Book #63: A Christmas Carol

Book #63: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

December 22, 2013


I'd downloaded A Christmas Carol from Amazon months ago, along with many other public domain classics. I figured this would be the perfect time to squeeze it in. It's a short work, much shorter than Great Expectations. And it is Dickens' best known work, having been remade and parodied countless times. In fact, this book is what brought celebrating Christmas to the mainstream in England; while the traditions and decorations described in the story are familiar to today's readers, back then these were pretty new traditions. Certainly, this is Dickens' most important and influential work.

Because I was so familiar with the story, and it really didn't have any surprises in it (there are some very faithful adaptations out there), I considered a couple of different things as I read it. First, I thought of what I'd learned about Dickens' life last year, that one day that I watched a video with a class that I was subbing (I'm just going to make a quick note here about how very, very grateful I am to not be substitute teaching anymore). Dickens' family was very poor; his father had a lot of debt, and spent time in debtor's prison. So clearly, Dickens' ideas about charity, and his distain toward the wealthy (clearly expressed in this work, and also in Great Expectations), all stem from his experiences as a poor street kid. I could easily imagine him being the child left alone on Christmas, comforted by his fictional friends in his beloved books; the love that Scrooge had for his younger sister echoes the love that Dickens had for his own siblings, I well imagine.

Look, I'm not anti-Christmas. I think it's nice that it is the one time of year that people are more willing to give to charities, that people in general are a little bit friendlier. I'm happy that I can provide my family members with quality gifts, and that I'll be spending a relaxing day with them on Christmas. But as critical as I was of Atlas Shrugged, I found myself thinking, what would Ayn Rand have to say about A Christmas Carol? The answer would be pretty obvious: she would call it communist propaganda. I think it's fair to say that Dickens used this Christmas story as a platform for his political views. They're views that, in general, I agree with; I mean, what good is having money if you don't use it to help others, or to have a good time? Yet the insistence that it is Scrooge's social responsibility to use his money for the greater good...I don't necessarily agree with that. If the old man wants to be a miser, what of it? But his nephew Fred does point out that Scrooge isn't hurting anyone with his ways but himself; well, exactly.

Scrooge softens very easily, which did kind of surprise me. By the second ghost, he's eager about what lessons these spirits have to impart on him. I think he kind of gets the idea by the time the Ghost of Christmases to Come points to his grave. I feel like other adaptations have had a more reluctant Scrooge character, one who isn't so willing to give up his (or her) selfish or miserly ways. But Scrooge realizes very quickly that his life is shit; he believes readily in these ghosts, and is very willing to change. Well, good for him, I guess.

I hope to read at least one more book before the year is out. 50-some-odd books in a year isn't too bad; I plan to keep up that pace. As busy as I am, I never feel bad about spending some time with a good book. Merry Christmas.

An imagine of Bob Cratchit and his ailing son, Tiny Tim.  My version of the book (on my Kindle) had the captions for the images, but not the pictures themselves.

Muppets Christmas Carol.

Book #62: Caramelo

Book #62: Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros

December 20, 2013


I wouldn't be a lie to say that I've been very busy this month. Work, and the end of the semester shit with my graduate classes...on top of that, trying to get ready for Christmas (I have most of the gifts purchased for my family, though none have been wrapped, and two haven't arrived in the mail)...I've been very busy. But to be perfectly honest, in my free time, I've been lounging out on the couch watching Netflix on my phone. I watched both seasons of Lilyhammer, and am a few episodes into Orange is the New Black...with these original shows, and the fourth season of Arrested Development, Netflix is making the membership fee worth the price. Not that I'm trying to promote anything, I'm just saying...

But I'm determined to get some reading done during my break. It even started a day early, since there was an ice storm last night (more like a light, misty rain that froze over), and my district called it off. No complaints here! So I finished up a book that I've been slacking on for a few weeks, and am determined to knock off a couple more that I have laying around while I'm on break from work and school. Just a few hours to work at my side job...otherwise, I've got plenty of free time.

I've read a couple of works by Cisneros before. I still have a copy of Woman Hollering Creek, a short story collection, from a course from my undergrad days, and I've read The House on Mango Street a couple of times. The latter has become almost a staple in public schools; I even used it myself in my last teaching assignment. Caramelo, a more recent work (I think it was published in 2002?), has some similarities to Mango Street, but it's not told in short vignettes (although some sections are). The narrative is often poetic, which I would expect.

From the footnotes (featured at the end the sections on my borrowed electronic copy), it would seem that some of the story is based on Cisnero's own experiences. As would be expected, the main character, Lala, and her family, are Mexican, and they live in Chicago. Lala (Celaya) is the youngest of seven Reyes children, and the only girl (though she later finds out that a poor Mexican girl, a childhood friend of hers, is her older half-sister). The story that she tells is split into three parts. The first recalls that summer in Mexico City, when she knew her half-sister Candelaria. The girl, the very poor and dirty daughter of a cleaning woman (and, as it is later revealed, Lala's father's secret child), is described as having skin that is dark and smooth like caramel. Young Lala is fascinated by her, but is later forbidden to play with her after she catches lice. It is never revealed what happens to Candelaria after she abruptly leaves the Reyes family while accompanying them on a vacation. On that same trip, Lala's mother, Zoila, gets into a fight with her husband. The reason is Candelaria, but this isn't revealed to Lala until years later, in the third part of the book. Lala's grandmother, Soledad (known as the Awful  Grandmother to Lala and the other Reyes grandchildren), is the one who tells Zoila; the two don't get along.

In the second part, Lala is telling the story of Soledad's life. At times, she (as the narrator) converses with her grandmother's ghost; it is later revealed that Soledad has been haunting her granddaughter since the girl was a young teenager. Soledad had a difficult life; when her mother, a weaver of rebozas (very fine shawls), dies, her depressed father and his new wife send Soledad to live with relatives. It is not an ideal environment for the young woman; her uncle is a pervert, and there are so many neglected cousins running around that she is nothing more than a babysitter and servant. Her cousin Narcisso meets her and pities her, and she eventually ends up as a servant in his parent's home. A bit of an improvement, but she is still a second-class citizen in her own family. But when she and Narcisso begin a sexual relationship, Narcisso's ailing father shames his son into doing the honorable thing, and marrying the poor girl.

Narcisso is a spoiled son, and he cheats on his pregnant wife with a gypsy woman who wears iguanas on her head. He loves that woman for the rest of his life, while his neglected wife must seek love elsewhere...namely, from her eldest son Inocencio, Zoila's husband and Lala's father. Soledad and Lala are the two loves of Inocencio's life, and Soledad is jealous of the love that her son has for both his wife and all his children. In the third part of the story, after her husband's death, she goes to live with her son and his family in Chicago, convincing them to go with her to San Antonio. The bulk of the remainder of the story takes place there, as Lala enters her teen years, fights with her mother (who is pretty bitchy to her in particular), struggles to fit in at her new school, and chaffs under her father's expectations of her as a good Mexican-American girl. She runs away with her boyfriend, but he feels guilty and leaves her, and she goes home, heartbroken and ashamed. She begins to hear her grandmother's voice, and even sees her after her father has a heart attack and nearly dies in the hospital. Soledad's ghost regrets being cruel to Zoila, and to others, in her life, but she had it so hard. Lala, though she never liked her grandmother, pities her.

The melodramatic aspects of Lala's family's story are compared to the telenovelas that are so much a huge part of Mexican popular culture. In fact, Cisneros includes some information about Mexican (and Mexican-American) entertainers from the early 20th century through the 1960's. There still aren't many representations of Hispanic life and culture in the mainstream media (or of other minority races, really), but some have broken through, and Cisneros acknowledges some of them, weaving them into the story. There are, of course, other references to Mexican culture, as Lala, who was born in and has spent much of her life in the Midwest, views it with appreciation because she knows that it's a part of herself. While the concept of being trapped between two cultures (which is a popular theme in works by authors whose families come from other countries) is somewhat a part of this story, it's only a small part of it. This is a family story, and it is a story about women. Lala's mother and aunt don't get as much focus, but their stories are interesting, if incomplete. I don't understand how Zoila became so volatile. She was snappish and rude even before the truth came out about Candelaria.

When I made myself sit down and read this book, I got into it. I don't know why I dragged my feet with it. I appreciate Cisneros' works, and this one had what I would expect one of her books to have. This book had some mystical elements, but it also had so much of the author in it. I enjoy Cisneros use of details; I always appreciate minute but significant details. As I've noted before, I love reading stories that have details about other cultures, and this work had some information about Mexico's tumultuous history, as seen through Soledad's eyes. Cisneros' other works don't seem to have gotten as much attention as Mango Street, but I'm glad that she's still writing and publishing today.

According to the caption that accompanied this picture, this is  a handmade Mexican rebozo, the same kind that Soledad took so much pride in. She herself never learned the craft, since her mother died when she was so young, but she could judge the quality of one. Her most prized possession was her caramel rebozo, one her mother had made, which eventually comes into Lala's hands.

Tongolele, the actress and dancer who is a minor character in "Aunty Light Skin's" story. She, among other famous Hispanic entertainers, is acknowledged in the story.

Book #61: Dog Sees God

Book #61: Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead by Bert V. Royal

December 1, 2013


It was a certainty that I was going to read this play. A woman presented on it in my YA literature course, and I was fascinated. I ordered a copy off Amazon last week, and was thrilled to see it in my mailbox a couple of days ago. I was uncertain, however, as to whether or not I would add it to the list (meaning, this list). But I figured: I'd count it if I read a Shakespeare play (I have at least a couple on my list, though I've read my share of Shakespeare), or Tennessee Williams, and I'd count a volume of poetry, so why not this one? Now, certainly I advocate going and actually seeing a play, rather than reading one, but reading a play script can give you some further insight into the way it was written, can show you things that you might miss if you were watching it performed. Plus, any person with an appreciation for reading can create a visual of what's being read, and stage directions help in this genre. Now that I'm finished with the reading for that course, I'm going to focus on adding as much variety to my reading experiences as possible, plays and poetry included.

So this particular play is interesting (as I said, I got pulled in by a description). It is an unofficial play about the Peanuts gang, in their teenage years. Since it is unofficial, the real names for the characters aren't actually used. CB is Charlie Brown, Sally is "CB's sister," Linus is "Van," Patty is "Tricia," etc. Beethoven is still Beethoven, because that name wouldn't be licensed, and Pigpen has become Matt, a germaphobe. It's easy to tell who's who. What's really fascinating is how Royal has interpreted them as troubled teens. Tricia and Marcy (apparently it was okay for him to use that name, too) mix alcohol into their milk cartons at lunch; Matt bullies Beethoven for being a perceived homosexual (though the taunting may have more to do with the fact that Beethoven's father was arrested...it's implied that it had something to do with the sexual abuse of a child or something, but not to Beethoven himself), while dealing with his own issues with OCD, his own sexuality, and being an overall jerk; CB himself is confused about his sexuality, and pursues a sexual relationship with Beethoven; "Van's sister" is being treated in a psychiatric ward after setting "the little red haired girl's" hair on fire at school. Whoa! Some pretty heavy stuff. Over-dramatic, to be sure, and the play ends with Beethoven's suicide (after being confronted about his relationship with CB by Matt, who proceeds to break his hands). Oh, and it starts with Snoopy (not called by name, of course) getting rabies and killing Woodstock (also not called by name), and CB having to bury his beloved dog.

As dramatic as the play is, I feel that it would be fascinating to watch on stage. It's interesting that Royal chose to write about the beloved Peanuts gang; after all, they live in a world of perpetual childhood, innocent adventures, blankets and the Great Pumpkin and Christmas plays and silly pranks. Good old Charlie Brown always had problems, but he lives in a charming world, and his problems are all so silly, so entertaining. CB, on the other hand, lives in a very real world. Okay, so I would hope that the overly homophobic views expressed by the kids in the play are an exaggeration, and that you wouldn't find such views in an 'average' high school, but that may be naive on my part. But the drinking in the cafeteria, the bullying, the issues with identity...I'm not dumb enough to think that these things aren't going on. I'm tempted to hate the dialogue, but good grief, unfortunately, that's the way kids talk these days.

I found myself thinking, if I were to ever direct a school play again (oh, God forbid it), if I would do this one. My answer is an overwhelming no; this play is definitely not appropriate for high schools. The language is very coarse ('fuck' can be seen on nearly every page!), and most schools would be floored by the references to CB's sexual encounter with Beethoven, and with the violence of "Van's sister's" actions. I would love, absolutely love, to see this performed somewhere, like at a college or a local theater. But I feel like this is another obscure play, like the many that I read about in the play catalogues and websites when I did have the arduous task of directing (and producing) a school play completely on my own. I was limited in my choices; I needed plays that were "safe," and that had a vast majority of female parts (my first year at directing, I had two male actors; my second, I had one), but I also wanted to find plays that were a little out of the ordinary, that were, perhaps, a little 'smarter' than previous play selections. Basically, plays of decent quality, and I felt like I was successful in that both years (and I had a good group of kids for both of those, thank God). No, I have an appreciation for theater, but I will never be involved with it again. I would like to go and see more plays in my area, and I recently saw that there are more opportunities to see live theater in my hometown than I had realized. Even obscure plays (like this one) have something to them, so I think that I will go and see a show (even if it's, gulp, alone) the next time I have a chance.

A playbill for a production of Dog Sees God. From a search, it seemed that most places putting it on were smaller theaters and colleges...as I expected. Apparently, Eliza Dushku was in a production as "Van's Sister". Interesting!

The original, beloved Peanuts gang, by Charles M. Schulz. It's crazy to think what a pop culture phenomena this continues to be, after so many decades.

Book #60: Patricide

Book #60: Patricide by Joyce Carol Oates

November 24, 2013


This is the first full-length (though it is a novella) work that I've read by Oates. I am familiar, of course, with what has been cited as her most famous work, the short story "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?". In fact, I believe that it was assigned to me in not one, but two college literature courses. It's essentially about a teenage girl who is home alone on a Sunday afternoon, who is talked into going along with a smooth-talking guy who, it is assumed, is going to rape and probably kill her. The girl seems to know this, too, yet she doesn't put up too much of a resistance. I've never been completely sure what to make of that story.

Patricide is interesting, even if none of the characters are too likable. The story is told from the perspective of Lou-Lou, the dean of faculty at a small college in New York. She is middle-aged, and may be a virgin (that seemed to be stated, though I wasn't sure if it meant that she was technically a virgin, or if she had never had passionate sex before). This is in contrast to her father, who is essentially the center of her life. Roland Marks is a Nobel Prize-winning writer, a grouch who doesn't treat his grown daughter with much respect. He is infamous for disrespecting women in general; he's been married and divorced five times, has many children, and is known for many sexual affairs on the side.

Lou-Lou has basically dedicated her life to taking care of her father, and when Cameron, a young Ph.D. student, comes into the picture (she's almost half Lou-Lou's age, and she becomes Roland's lover), the dutiful daughter becomes so distracted that it hurts her performance at work. When her father and Cameron are away, she visits his house and imagines him dying, the old stairs leading down to the Hudson River collapsing under his weight. She even cancels an order to have the steps repaired.

It happens the way that Lou-Lou imagines it. Her father does fall, and he does die. And, unexpectedly, Cameron becomes Lou-Lou's business partner, as they dedicate themselves to...what? Preserving Roland's works? Exploiting his legacy for their own profit? Well, Lou-Lou is pretty convinced that Cameron, the young woman, actually loved her father, admired him in the same way that she did herself, and it's implied that the two may begin a sexual relationship.

In some ways, I can understand Lou-Lou's feelings about her father. I mean, I love my dad. I admire him, too. He's not famous, but he's dedicated to his career. He works with kids, as I do, and I think that's very important. He and my mother divorced when I was young, around the same age that Lou-Lou was when her own parents divorced. I have always, mostly, believed that it was for the best, while Lou-Lou expresses some regret, even years later, that her father had abandoned her mother (as she felt much of that abandonment herself). Like Lou-Lou, I am confident that I am my father's favorite child, and that it is a deserved spot. But at the same time, my father treats me with respect. He and I have been on almost equal footing since my parents split; when I was in high school, it was just me and him for a time at home, and the only rules I had to follow were to come home by curfew, and to keep up my grades (though working for him at the Y probably helped him to keep me in line as well). He was always the more supportive of my two parents, and has always been reliable. Like Lou-Lou, there are times when I've been disappointed by him, and times when I've disappointed him, but that's normal for any family.

What I can't understand is Lou-Lou's inability to separate her life from her father's in some way. She never married, never had kids. That's not such a bad thing in itself, but she justifies not taking on more responsibilities in her life, or taking a position at a smaller college rather than advancing her career in academia in order to be closer to him, or to spend more time seeing to his needs. She frequently observes his "helplessness," that she must see to the basic necessities in running the home...as a wife would. It's bad enough that she does all of this, but worse that he's so unappreciative. Roland Marks is a self-important dick, and Lou-Lou basically acknowledges this.

In actual fact, Lou-Lou did not technically commit patricide. She did not act to avoid his death, but really, he knew that the stairs were rotten at his home. He was perfectly capable of acting to have them fixed himself, but he didn't. Lou-Lou even publicly acknowledges her guilt as she mourns with her family, but they reassure her that it wasn't her fault. Still, she had obsessed over it happening that way...it wasn't really a careless accident. She had wished for it, she had kind of planned for it. It wasn't quite murder, but it kind of was. And what was so weird, Lou-Lou didn't feel guilty about it at all, it seems.

An interesting little book. I do appreciate when writers write about the habits of writers in their works. This is something that Stephen King does a lot, and the way that he describes these writers, and the way that they think and create, gives some insight into his own genius. I found Oates's descriptions of Roland Marks to be most fascinating when it described his writing, the controversy that his work generated. Now, Roland was pretty famous; not to the average everyday person, but in certain circles (such as academic ones, as Lou-Lou rolled with), he was well-known, and mostly admired, in spite of the criticism of his anti-feminist themes. It's hard to understand how it would feel to be the child of a famous person, if you haven't really gone through it yourself. Still, I find myself dismissing Lou-Lou as being a whiny Daddy's girl. Hell, her life still revolved around him, even after he was dead. There's only one time she can recall in her life when her father gave her the same kind of admiration that she'd always felt for him, when she'd had a tooth knocked out in a vicious field hockey game in high school. Lou-Lou is a sad woman; family is important, to be sure, but to make anyone (be it a father or mother, or a spouse or lover, or one's own child) the complete center of one's life just isn't right.

George Washington Bridge. Lou-Lou had to cross this to get to her father in Upper Nyack. At the beginning of the story, she is stuck in traffic after an accident. Her father acts like her being late, as a result of this, is her fault somehow. He's a dick.

A Victorian-style house in Upper Nyack. I imagine that Roland Marks's house is much like this one.

Book #59: Forge

Book #59: Forge by Laurie Halse Anderson

November 23, 2013


Today is the first day of my nine day break from work and classes! I really needed this time off. I'll have to be productive with this time, unfortunately, as I'd like to knock out all of my assignments left for the semester, and get a leg-up on planning for my classes at work, in addition to doing some housekeeping that I've been neglecting. I was able to knock out another book today, an enjoyable read, plus my last book for my YA course. I've already downloaded two books from the public library, since I'll have some extra time to read this week.

This is the fourth book by Anderson that I've read. Of course, I've read Speak, what I would consider to be her breakout novel. I've also read a couple of other historical fiction works, including Chains, the predecessor to this novel. I used that one with my former 8th grade class, but not many of them took to it. I wonder if they would have appreciated this sequel better; I don't necessarily think they would have needed to have read the former in order to get this one. It has the same main characters, Isabel and Curzon, but this time the story is told from his perspective. After running off with Isabel at the end of the last book, they were together for several months as runaway slaves, then separated after a fight. We don't learn the details of this argument until later on, when they are unwittingly reunited after they are both enslaved by Curzon's former master, Bellingham, who is a dick.

It took me a little bit to get into this particular book, but it definitely picks up as Curzon, recruited into the Continental army, is camped out at Valley Forge for the winter with thousands of poorly supplied troops. What I love about this book is how it gives the human side of the Revolutionary War. Since I'm reading this book for my class, I'll note that if I were to teach this book, I would use it alongside history studies of the Revolutionary War. As I've been teaching a U.S. history course at my teaching assignment, I have wanted to find supplementary materials that would do just that for the topics we've been studying. It would be great to find a good quality novel about a time period that we'll be studying; unfortunately, it seems that Anderson's YA works mostly center on very early American life.

The characters in this work are what drive the story, and Curzon is a likable narrator. In this book, the origins of his interesting name are revealed (his mother had been a slave from Brazil, and having died in childbirth, his father named him after the Portuguese word for 'heart'); he and Isabel also kiss, finally. Duh, kiddos, you love each other. I would say that Curzon and Isabel are my favorite couple in YA literature; screw those fucking vampires and werewolves, what's-their-faces. But most important were the descriptions of slaves' living conditions, and those of the poor soldiers in Valley Forge. The descriptions of standing in the snow with inadequate shoes, going for days with nothing to eat but burned flour-paste; men dying in their sleep, or eating inedible objects out of desperation. And the treatment of the slaves is horrifying; the description of Isabel being 'collared' by Bellingham for her frequent escape attempts is backed up by a quote from one of Anderson's resources, describing the similar treatment of a young girl in slavery.

Understanding the real stories of history (even through fiction), seeing the ugly facts and the raw details, can help us to better understand human nature. The way things really are in the world. To be able to trace back where we've come from, even if that past is shameful. I love good quality historical fiction if it teaches me something real about history. I know that Anderson writes in a variety of YA genres, but I hope that she puts out some more historical fiction. I know there will be a follow-up to Forge, but I think the date is still up in the air. I hope that we learn what happened to Isabel's sister Ruth, a young girl who suffered from seizures who was abused, then sold, but Isabel's cruel, former mistress in the first book. If the books are switching perspectives, I might wonder if this third one would be told from hers?

Damn, it would have sucked to be at Valley Forge that winter.

This would have sucked even worse. I imagine that the collar on Isabel wasn't so dissimilar to the iron collar in this drawing.

Book #58: Grimm's Fairy Stories

Book #58: Grimm's Fairy Stories by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm

November 21, 2013


This is not the YA book that I referred to in my last post. I've been overlapping books lately; that other one will be my next entry. This book, a public domain classic that I downloaded on my Kindle, has been my, uh, "bathroom book" for about the last month. Of course, I don't just read it while in the bathroom. I have it on my phone, too, so when I've had a few free minutes, I've taken it out and gotten one of the stories at least partially read. Okay, that was probably more information than anyone needed to know...

Anyway, it should be pointed out that Grimm's Fairy Stories should not be confused with the full-volume editions of Grimm's Fairy Tales. The book that I read was probably more of a "greatest hits" sort of collection. A couple of things that I know about the Grimm brothers stories are this: first off, many of these stories are the basis of the well-known Disney princess and fairy tale stories that are so well loved; secondly, that the original stories were often controversial, viewed as not necessarily being appropriate for children, though that was the intended audience. I didn't find a whole lot in this collection that was what you would call disturbing, but some of the characters did meet gruesome (if not graphically described) fates.

I can understand how these stories have captured the imaginations of people around the world for generations. The stories are whimsical, and feature characters who are in the happiest or lowliest of circumstances. Characters who are snotty or evil meet their deserved ends, and characters who are kind and virtuous win the day. A happy ending for many lovely but poor girls is to marry a prince or a king. These are some of the original stories that set the standard.

And yet, there is some darkness about them, as magical stories in today's popular culture always seem to have at least a hint (or more) of darkness. Jealousy is often a motivating factor behind wicked actions. Stepmothers (often actually mothers in the original editions, but I read that the brothers changed it in later additions) abusing and starving and abandoning and killing their children. Call me cynical, but wouldn't it make the stories more real to keep the originals? After all, mothers are not always sweet and good. I've seen the evidence that there are terrible mothers out there, so why pretend that it isn't the case? But I digress...

I don't really feel like there's much to say about this collection of stories. They were sometimes delightful, sometimes boring, never too shocking or gruesome. The stories in this book continue to have a profound impact on popular culture today, so it's interesting to get a real feel for the source. I've never been a huge fan of Disney, or fairy tales, or anything of that sort. When I took a course on feminism during my undergraduate days, I bought in to the idea of fairy tales being sexist. I mean, I definitely believe that the brothers Grimm were biased against women. I can't think of many evil male characters in the book (at worst, foolish or vain or greedy), but almost every other story had a female character. The most evil male was the Evil One, the devil, who showed up in a story or two. Beauty in these stories is synonymous with virtue, and ugly girls were also evil, of course. Christ.

So, quite frankly, I would recommend reading this book with a frame for culture, but these are not stories that I would expose to my own children. Nor would I buy into much of that Disney commercialism crap, either. I would be a really awful mother in the 21st century, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't run my children into the woods to die or throw them out of windows into rivers. Then again, I often wonder if it's possible to raise children in the world that we live in today.

This is old, but I thought it rather appropriate, considering that three of the six princesses shown here were in the Grimm brother's stories that I read: Sleeping Beauty (Briar Rose in the original work), Snow White (not to be confused with the Snow White in the "Snow White and Rose Red" story), and Cinderella.

This is not a book that I have read, but it was one of the "lit circle" options for my YA lit class. The group that read it, on the whole, did not seem enamored of it, to say the least. It seems to me to be a graphic retelling of "Snow White and Rose Red"...I don't remember anyone in their group bringing that up.

Book #57: American Born Chinese

Book #57: American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang

November 18, 2013


This is the last assigned book that I'll be reading for my YA course. I am actually in the middle of the last actual book that I'll have to read for it at all, my fourth "choice" text, but I've been busy and haven't been able to proceed. I don't have to have it finished for another two weeks or so yet, and fortunately, this book, which I need to be ready to discuss tomorrow, probably took me about one non-consecutive hour to finish. My second graphic novel this year, and I found that this one also, though brief, contained a complex and interesting story.

The book is actually three stories in one, and they all combine all the end in a way that is fantastically symbolic. The first story is about a boy whose parents were Chinese immigrants who met as American students, marrying and settling in San Francisco. When Jin's family moved away, he was the only Chinese student at his new school (there was another girl, Japanese). He always stood out for being Chinese, even though he was American through and through. Still, his only good friend in junior high was a kid from Taiwan. Jin has a crush on a girl named Amelia, who is popular but seems to like him back. Though his date with her is typically awkward for junior high kids on a date, Jin is mortified when one of Amelia's popular guy friends, a supposed "nice guy," asks him not to date Amelia anymore, basically because he is unpopular (somewhat because he's a bit of a dork, but mostly because he's not white). The "nice guy" turns out to be an even bigger prick than his racist friends. Jin can't muster up the courage to ask Amelia out again, or to tell the guy off, so instead he awkwardly kisses his best friend's girl friend, alienating his friend in the process.

A sad but seemingly ordinary story. Another part of the story revolves around the legend of the Monkey King. The Monkey King is a very well-known story in China. I learned quite a bit about it when I visited there and attended a university lecture (in English for us, of course), so I could remember back to some of the references, like his mastery of the disciplines or his journey to the west. Yang, whose color graphics are nothing short of delightful, includes some jokes with the Monkey King story, which is appropriate, because the Monkey King story is known for being light-hearted. There's also a message in there about being true to yourself (accepting the fact, for example, that you are a monkey, though that does not mean that you don't have a special destiny), and accepting help when you need it, and not being overly prideful. These lessons seem to relate well to Jin, who, after the fight with Wei-Chen, "turns white" (meant to represent the fact that as he enters high school, he works diligently to shed his Asian identity and assimilate to his peer as much as possible)...in the story, he literally turns into "Danny," the third main character of the book.

In Danny's story, he's an ordinary white guy in high school. For some inexplicable reason, he has a Chinese cousin who comes to visit him every year. This cousin is the personification of every bad stereotype about Chinese people that has every existed in American popular culture: the buck teeth, the replacement of "l's" with "r's" and vice-versa, actually going pee-pee in somebody's Coke. The cousin's name is Chin-Kee (chinky, get it?...awful). Danny's story is written as a sort of sitcom, which a "laugh-track" below the panels. The audience loves Chin-Kee, he's a real hoot, and it's true that terrible Asian stereotypes are still depicted in popular culture today. Urg...America is still extremely racist. This is basically something that the students that I work with have come to a consensus on, after we've already had so many discussions about our country's shamefully racist history. Obviously, for Jin, Chin-Kee represents how people have always viewed him, just for the fact that his parents are from China.

So the three stories collide when it's revealed that "Danny" is Jin. Chin-Kee turns into the Monkey King, who teaches Jin some important lessons about his identity. He encourages Jin to make up with Wei-Chen, who has become another Chinese-American stereotype (think: flashy fast car, neon lights, spiked hair, shades at night). There's also this legend of how Wei-Chen is the Monkey King's own son (the Monkey King being a deity, of course)...again, fantastic and symbolic. The story ends on a positive note as the two boys rekindle their friendship, and bond over their common heritage as they assess the quality of the pearl tea that they are drinking.

The more I reflect on this brief read, the more I appreciate it. If I have the chance to get my hands on enough copies, I would definitely use this book in my own, current classroom. I have to be careful about the sort of books that I use with my students, and there are some limits in availability, but this is a book that I feel any student could appreciate, and the messages are important. This sort of book could open up a real discussion about race among kids, since the characters themselves are kids and teens (and monkey kings). I'd heard good things about this book, as it's been out for several years now, but I am absolutely enamored. That's score two for graphic novels, so I'm definitely going to be on the look out for some more to add to my list. I'm looking forward to having a whole week off for Thanksgiving, so I plan to get in as much reading time as possible!

This is Chin-Kee.

An image of a Beijing opera actor playing the legendary Monkey King. I saw a show about the Monkey King when I was in Beijing, actually...it was pretty cool, very acrobatic, and much more enjoyable with the knowledge that I'd gained of the actual story.

Book #56: The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks

Book #56: The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart

November 2, 2013


Yet another book for my YA course, I've actually finished this one quite a bit ahead of schedule. It's the book I've been assigned for a literature circle group in the class, consisting of myself and several other intelligent women, and I'm looking forward to the discussions that we'll have. I kind of feel like a huge geek now that I've finished it, since we have two weeks to complete it. In my own defense, I happen to not be as busy this weekend as I have been, and undoubtedly will be in the next few weeks, until I get an entire week off for Thanksgiving break (I love teaching, haha). So I figured, hell, I'm not doing anything on a Saturday night, so why not get this one out of the way and open up my schedule a bit? I have a much better time reading a book than going out and drinking. Not entirely sure what that says about me...

Anyway, in that respect, I saw a little of myself in Frankie as she, as a sophomore attending a party with popular seniors, observes that the gathering was boring. I respected this character in how much she trusted her own gut, in how well she reasoned things out. Like most quality YA heroines, she's intelligent. She attends an exclusive (and very expensive) boarding school called Alabaster, located in Massachusetts. Her parents aren't super wealthy, at least not compared to many of her classmates' families, but they're certainly well-off. Though Alabaster is, of course, co-ed, it was an all-male prep school for a very long time, and there's still a patriarchy, an 'Old-Boys' clubby mentality, that runs the whole thing. Frankie, with her intelligence and her feminist role models (though her mother and sister only view her as being an innocent child), doesn't like this. She wants to shake things up.

This book is pretty light-hearted compared to some of the books I've been reading for this course. No one dies; there aren't even really any serious consequences for the events that occur in the book, though Frankie is a constantly evolving character. On the one hand, she's a cute, small girl...that's how the world, and especially her boyfriend, view her. When she "fills out" during the summer before her sophomore year, she finally gets the attention of Matthew, a popular senior with whom she is enamored. It's clear that Matthew is a prep school elitist dickhead, but Frankie is a teenage girl, after all. Smart and witty though she may be, she is not completely immune to her hormonal urges. She even thinks that she "loves" Matthew, though she knows that he doesn't really understand, or try to understand, her.

Matthew is part of a "secret" society called the Loyal Order of the Basset Hound. The upper class really like their secret little clubs, don't they? This is a theme that has been covered in many works of literature and popular culture, these societies that have all these secrets, there's this sort of aura of mystic or romance around them. Frankie's sister Zada (that's a pretty cool name, I must admit) dismisses it as being stupid guy stuff. Their father, a proud Alabaster alum, was a Basset Hound himself, so Frankie has a little inside information. But when she realizes that her boyfriend is a member, she wants to know more.

It becomes something more than knowing her boyfriend better, though. Frankie wants to be a part...even if all the guys do is get together to drink or play lame pranks, she likes that kind of power that being part of a secret society (much like attending a prestigious prep school) can bring her. She also, as I pointed out, wants to shake up the system. And she wants to belong somewhere. Her motives for what she does are not always clear, but they are numerous. It boils down to this: adopting the identity of "Alpha" (another douchebag who runs with Matthew's crowd...Frankie may or may not be attracted to him), Frankie begins emailing all of the boys in the society (she knows who they are, having spied on their meetings) and giving orders for them to carry out elaborate pranks. Her plans are always meant to send a message, such as decorating the portraits of past headmasters and prominent alumni (all male) with bras in protest of the lack of feminine representation at the school. Alpha, rather than admit that he's not the mastermind, takes credit, while demanding that Frankie (whom he emails, not knowing her true identity) to give up the long-lost book written by former society members, called The Disreputable History of the Order of the Basset Hound. After several pranks, Frankie is only found out after Alpha is almost forced to take the fall for the whole thing and get expelled. Matthew is disgusted that his sweet, harmless girlfriend would do this, while he had admired Alpha when he though he was the one coming up with all the brilliant pranks.

While I can sympathize with Frankie's struggles, and feel her frustration when she's not taken seriously (and she clearly deserves to be), it's hard to take the themes of this book too seriously in themselves. As I said, this is a lighter text. The setting and situations are alien to the experiences of most teenagers. Boarding schools seem to be a popular setting for teen pop culture, as they allow the characters almost the same amount of freedom as a college student would have, while still having characters who are at an accessible age. Yet most teens go to public school; if they have college prospects, it's community college (at least to start), or a public university, or perhaps a small private college (Iowa has an endless supply of those, it seems), while Frankie and her classmates dream of Ivy League acceptance letters. They're going to be okay. They won't have to worry about much, because they have money and connections (the narration, through Frankie's eyes, acknowledges this). This wasn't much more than a fun read, though I can always appreciate a strong female character. Perhaps some girls who read this book will be inspired to shake things up in their own worlds, in meaningful and unexpected ways.

Basset hounds are darling! Awwwww!

In a scene from Gilmore Girls, Rory (the character played by Alexis Bledel; I named my little dog after that character) and a group of girls are caught in the headmaster's office of her prestigious private school after an initiation ceremony gone wrong. Rory didn't really want to join the "secret society" anyway; she was only doing it because school administration had expressed concerns about her "anti-social" behavior. She's another example of a strong female character who is confident in her own choices and feelings...most of the time.

Book #55: Unwind

Book #55: Unwind by Neal Shusterman

November 1, 2013


This is the YA book that I will be writing a paper on, and giving a presentation about on Tuesday. For our four "choice" books, we are to pick YA books of different genres, so this one would be one that I would classify as science fiction, dystopian literature. I enjoyed this book about as much as I enjoy any YA dystopian-themed book that I've read (and it happens to be my favorite of all YA genres). Since I'm to devote part of my presentation to the themes in the novel, I will lay them out here to kind of sort out my thoughts.

The book takes place in the somewhat-distant future, when iPods and HD-TVs are considered to be antiques. Decades before, the debate over abortion had turned to all-out war and violence. To end things, it was decided that abortions themselves would be outlawed. Instead, any conceived fetus would be given a chance at life...for 13 years. From the age of 13-18, parents could then choose to retroactively "abort" their children through a process called "unwinding." At first, it seems like "unwinding" is simply killing the kid and taking him or her apart, distributing the organs (by law, all parts of an "unwind" are to be used) to those in need of transplants. However, as the story goes on, it becomes clear that there's more to it than that. The "logic" behind unwinding is that the child doesn't technically die, because all of him or her will live on in other bodies. It seems that this is true; there are examples in the book of people who have a part of an unwind's brain, and has the kid's memories; there's a truck driver who has an unwind's hand, who is able to perform magic tricks without really understanding how.

As you might imagine, parents would choose to "unwind" a troublesome child, allowing the "good" and more talented children to live. This is true to some extent. Connor is signed over for unwinding by his parents. He's always had some anger problems, has gotten into trouble. Many kids become Unwinds for that reason. The world that they live in is pretty messed up, though. As you might imagine, unwinding as gotten out of control. People demand upgrades to what they have; the organ transplants don't just go to people who need them to live, but take the place of cosmetic surgeries. Hair transplants are common, as are eye transplants. In fact, surgery and transplants of all kinds of body parts have become more commonplace than more tradition medicine. For example, a person who breaks an arm would have a choice of having it replaced, or putting a cast on it. Kids who are sent to 'harvest camps,' in preparation for their unwinding, are required to do a lot of physical activity, so that they are in the best shape possible...and that they have top-notch body parts to be sold.

Troubled kids aren't the only ones to be unwound. Because of abortions being illegal (it seems that birth control is also outlawed, or not readily available?), teen pregnancy is common. Another common practice is the technically-legal "storking." A newborn baby can be left on a doorstep of a home; if the mother can get away quick enough without getting caught, she doesn't have to have responsibility for the baby anymore. Whoever finds the baby, must keep it and care for it. Some people do so willingly, even happily; others attempt to "stork" the baby again in secret (which is technically illegal). Connor remembers when his parents did this; they'd been "storked," and passed off the baby to a neighbor. Two weeks later, the same baby was back on their own doorstep. It had been passed, in stealth, from neighbor to neighbor. Very sick from all the passing, exposure to the outdoors, and probably a lack of care, it died. Connor was disturbed by this; it's no wonder that so many kids are disturbed, when the adults in their lives all act like such monsters.

Kids who are abandoned can also end up in a state home (called StaHo for short). This is the life that Risa lives; she bears the common last name 'Ward,' and lives in a highly-competitive environment. A StaHo kid who can't prove his or her worth (Risa is a talented pianist, but apparently not good enough to have her life spared), or is in danger of being unwound after hitting the age of 13. This is especially true when StaHos are overcrowded and lack funding. Kids who make it to 18 in a StaHo don't necessarily have it easy once they're free from the threat of being unwound, though.

There are also kids known as 'tithes,' who, for religious reasons mostly, are born and raised to be unwound. This is so with Lev, a 13-year-old who has been raised to believe that he is special, chosen by God to help others with his own body. There are others like him; they, unlike the other kinds of Unwinds, are not viewed negatively, but are always treated with preference. Even in the harvest camps, they have more privileges than the others, known as the 'terribles.'

Lev, Connor, and Risa all meet when they're all on their way to being unwound. Connor, learning of his fate after seeing some papers in his dad's office, runs for it, only to be caught in the back of a sympathetic truck driver's cab. Pulled over on a highway, Connor runs from the 'Juvy cops' (whose sole responsibility seems to be catching runaway Unwinds), just as the bus that Risa rides (on her way to a harvest camp herself) and the car in which Lev rides (also going to his unwinding) come along. In the commotion, accidents occur, and Risa manages to get off the bus and make her way into the woods. Connor follows, but only after forcing Lev to go with him, recognizing him as a tithe. Their adventures begin from there. Lev is treacherous at first, but after almost getting Connor and Risa caught, he begins to realize the horrors of unwinding and he runs for it himself, also aiding in the escape of the others. While those two are helped by a teacher into a underground network that smuggles Unwinds to a safe haven in the Arizona desert, Lev meets up with a young black kid (called 'umber' in their time, while white people are referred to as some other fancy word for 'white' that I can't remember...supposed to do away with racial prejudice or something, but that didn't seem to be the case) named Cy.

Cy is an interesting character. He has two gay dads. He was 'storked' and they were happy to have him. He's not an Unwind; he does, however, have part of the brain of an Unwind, after having some of his brain replaced due to some serious illness. While Cy is a brilliant, quirky young man, the part of his brain belonging to Tyler (the Unwind) is troubled. He forces Cy to embark on a journey (on foot, so as to avoid suspicion from Juvy cops) to Joplin, Missouri, to pay a visit to the boy's parents. As Lev witnesses Cy's mental anguish, and Tyler's desperation and fear as he, through Cy, begs his parents not to unwind him, he becomes very angry. This anger leads Lev to take desperate action later in the book, though he redeems himself in the end. He starts out as the most obnoxious character, and ends up being my favorite.

Another interesting character is Zachary (called 'Emby,' or MB, short for 'mouth breather'...kids are mean). He is an orphan who is sent to be unwound by a greedy aunt, who will get hold of his inheritance. Sick and wrong! Emby's fate is ultimately a happy one, as he ends up in the home of a couple who had their son unwound, but went on to sorely regret it. The father, the same Admiral who ran the safe haven for Unwinds in Arizona, had also had a part in starting the whole unwinding thing in the first place. He explains, to Connor (who, after a crazy chain of events, becomes the Admiral's successor in running the safe haven, called 'the graveyard' because it's the home of hundreds or thousands of out-of-commission airplanes), that it was originally proposed as an exasperated joke, and that they'd all been shocked when the public went for it. After his son repeated got into trouble with the law, he felt political pressure to have him unwound. In his regret, he has dedicated his life to helping Unwinds make it to 18 safely. Also, he and his wife have been trying to find all of the people who received parts of their son Harlan; Emby is one of them, with one of his lungs. When all of those people finally come together, it's almost as though all of Harlan is put together again...because the parts of him, his memories and all, are still alive.

Unwind is about as good as, say, Scott Westerfeld's Uglies. It's easy to compare a book like this to other, perhaps better known dystopian-themed YA novels (such as The Hunger Games), but I think it stacks up. A student of mine at my former teaching job had recommended it, and I'm glad that this is the one I'll be discussing with my class next week. So here's a breakdown of the important themes:

-Abortion, obviously. Along with this, I would include the value of life. The lives of Unwinds are not valued; they are valued as commodities, body parts. It begs the question (unanswered by the text, appropriately), too, of whether or not a fetus is more valuable than a teenager. Is unwinding more tragic than abortion? Unwinding is certainly murder, to be sure...
-Organ transplants. This is a controversial issue at times, and often, for people who need certain organs, they're not always available. There's also a black market, and dark tales of people waking up in tubs full of ice, missing a kidney or lung. Along this same lines, I would also point out elective surgeries as being another important topic. Because unwinding is so common (dare I say popular?), there is such an abundance of parts that a lack of available organs is no longer an issue, and people, kids, are used for desirable parts (like pretty eyes, or swift and capable hands).
-Parenting and family relationships. How do all of these 'Unwinds' become such troubled kids? I'm around troubled kids all the time, and I know that their behavior stems directly from the behavior of their parents. What about the kids who are born to very young mothers? Teen pregnancy would be another theme to explore, as it becomes very, very common in Connor's world.
-Foster kids. These children typically live very difficult lives, and it's an issue that isn't focused on often enough. Do foster kids today have it much easier than the kids in the StaHos? I mean, the threat of death isn't a reality for most of them, but what about the struggle just to get by? And the uncertainly about the future?
-Religious beliefs. In the book, most of the mainstream religions preach the value of 'tithing' children for unwinding. It shows how religious preaching and scripture can be manipulated to suit the desires of those in power. This has always been done, since religion even became a thing. In the middle ages, people were taught that heaven would be their reward for a life of drudgery. Religious manipulation is very much a reality today as well.

I'll angle my presentation toward using this book to examine critical issues in our world today. I think this will go well. I would want to go on to read the sequel sometime; I understand that a third one will be out soon as well. But I haven't gotten around to reading any of the other Uglies books yet, and I still want to finish The Hunger Games and Harry Potter (I have one book left for each of those). Damn these addictive YA series! I'll probably take a bit of a break from YA when my semester is up, but I'll still keep some on my list.

This is what most Americans imagine when they imagine suicide bombers. In the book, Lev actually becomes a terrorist himself, and through a process that alters the chemistry of his blood, he becomes a human bomb. He can be set off by clapping his hands...hence, the term "clappers" being used for such bombers. This is apparently a common practice in the world depicted in this book.

By these statistics, it would seem that organ transplants are pretty rare (though kidney transplants have become more and more commonplace). I have no issue with transplants that are needed; in fact, I am an organ donor. I don't need my stuff after I die, and if I go brain dead, all the better that I should help others if I'm done for, anyway. High demand in the book turns to greed...though the story itself is science fiction, it's pretty disgusting and startling how accurately Shusterman depicts society. For the most part, I pretty much distrust the world and think it really could go bad, in some way, unless people wise up...and I don't see any sign of that happening.

Book #54: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Book #54: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

October 25, 2013


I have my entire weekend packed full of things that I need to do for my job or for my classes. Tonight, my plan was to check out this book from the library right after work, read it all this evening, and get my blog post and the little bit that I would need to do for my YA lit class completed, so I could go on to my other tasks tomorrow and Sunday. Well, mission accomplished, obviously, though I was dismayed to see that this book had over 350 pages when I picked it up today. However, it was a relatively quick read. I'll admit that I'd actually started another book (another one for the course, but that one will be an "independent choice" book that I will give a presentation on in, like, two or three weeks?), but found so little time to read this week that I had to go with a new plan. I'm hoping that, if I'm efficient enough this weekend, I'll be able to read a bit of that other book. Anyway...

Okay, so when I read up a little bit about this book on my local library's website, I didn't get that it would be a love story between the two main characters. I thought that Ari and Dante were sweet, and even though Ari (the narrator) comes off as being really confused about everything (hell, he's a teenager, what teenager isn't confused?...or what person, for that matter?), I had no doubt that he was really a good kid, a good person, really, and that he would make the right choices. Ari and Dante's feelings for each other were obvious from the day that they met, and I found myself rooting for them. Dante wasn't so afraid of his feelings...Ari was.

Let me put this situation into context. The story is set in El Paso, from June of 1987 (the year I was born!) to late summer 1988. That's from the first day that Ari met Dante at the local pool, to the evening that they finally admitted their feelings for each other (or rather, that Ari admitted his feelings for Dante, as Dante had been pretty open about it for like a year at that point). I found it really interesting that the story was set in the late '80's. I don't think that it would be all that much different if it'd been set today, except that maybe Ari and Dante would email or talk on Facebook rather than write letters. It makes me sad to think that a kid would get jumped and beaten just for being gay, but in Texas today...I wouldn't doubt it. I would also like to think that any parents today would be as understanding and supportive as the Mendozas and Quintanas were of their sons, but of course, that's not the case...those parents seem too good to be true. Even though Ari describes his father as being disturbed by his experiences in Vietnam, and emotionally distant, Jaime seems like a very kind, wise man. Ari and Dante are both very lucky to have parents who work hard, and who care about them. Though Dante's parents are a bit more educated and a bit more wealthy than the Mendozas (Dante's dad is a professor, mom's a therapist, while Ari's dad is a mailman, mom's a high school teacher), they all get along well with each other, and have quite a bit in common.

Look, it was never a question that Dante and Ari would get together. What drove the story was Ari himself, and his personal growth. He's 15 at the start of the book, approaching 17 at the end. The summer that he meets Dante, they become best friends. Ari doesn't have many friends; being young and sexually confused, he doesn't really feel comfortable around guys, and thinks most of the kids his age are idiots. He has some friends at school, but isn't very popular, though he does get invited to parties and stuff...he would just rather be alone. God, do I ever get that. I really connected with Ari for that reason. He felt weird about not fitting in, but by the end of the book, he'd come to realize that it was okay for him to want to be alone. He was like his father...and I had a very good impression of Jaime's character. I liked Ari because he reminded me of myself, in some ways.

Ari does a really brave thing that changes his life forever. One afternoon, on a rainy summer day when he and Dante are just hanging out, Dante spots a bird with a broken wing in the middle of the rainy street. Being an animal lover, with an especial soft spot for birds, he decides to mend it, and goes to pick it up. As a car comes speeding around the corner on the slick road, Ari runs into the road and pushes Dante out of the way. Dante ends up with an arm cast; Ari breaks both legs and fractures some part of his arm, too. While Ari is lauded by Dante and all of the adults as a hero, he doesn't want to talk about it. He is uncomfortable with the fact that he did it out of love for Dante. To make matters worse, Dante's family moves to Chicago (temporarily; his father gets some guest professor spot), so Ari is left alone to deal with some very confusing feelings.

Ari begins to grow up that school year. He's attracted to girls, to some extent. He falls for a pretty older girl named Ileana, but she's caught up in some messed up things, has a boyfriend in a gang, and he ends up hurt. He'd only kissed her one time, flirted with her a few times, but he was still hurt...and his recurring dreams seemed to reveal that he feels guilty about liking her, when he knows how Dante feels about him. Ari also seems to have a love-hate relationship with one of his girl friends, Gina, but nothing really comes of that. He later decides that she and Susie, who have been annoying him for years but have also kept him somewhat connected with the social scene, can be his friends, wondering why it's not okay for guys and girls to just be friends. 

Anyway, Dante moves back to El Paso, and though his feelings for Ari are all out in the open (they even kiss, though Ari pretends not to like it), they decide to just be best friends, like they were before. Still, the tension between them is real...again, though, there isn't really a doubt that Ari will eventually come to his senses and see how he really feels. It's just a matter of him deciding. It's actually his parents who help him to admit his real feelings for Dante. I was really surprised by how accepting they were. They're Catholic, and they're Mexican-Americans...the same is true to Dante's parents, and he even attends a private, all boy's Catholic school. You would think there would be more controversy. Then again (and I don't mean this to be condescending, I'm just basing these ideas on my own experiences), the parents are all pretty well-educated, and of the middle class, and more educated people tend to have more...liberal?...views. After all, Jaime is not a fan of Ronald Reagan, and he and Ari jokingly refer to his mother Lilly as being a "fascist" because of her strict rules. So even though the idea of all of the parents accepting and supporting...hell, even helping to bring about...the relationship between the two young men is surprising in itself, the parents are all such nice and level-headed people that it's not at all out-of-character for them. I do wish that all parents could be that way, though it seems that Lilly and Jaime have had some bad experiences with their other son in the past that might lead them to being that much more understanding of Ari.

See, one other issue in this book involves Ari's mysterious older brother Bernardo. Lilly and Jaime had married young; Lilly had their twin daughters when she was 18, her son Bernardo only a year later. Ari came along 12 years after that, after Jaime had been to Vietnam (I almost thought, for a while, that it would be revealed that Ari wasn't actually Jaime's son, but the way it was explained later on, that clearly wasn't the case). When Ari was four, he was sent to stay with his Aunt Ophelia, a lesbian living in Tucson who had been disowned by everyone in her family except for the Mendozas. At that time, Bernardo was on trial...for punching a transvestite hooker to death. When he was fifteen. Which would explain why Lilly was so strict with Ari...he had a temper himself, which showed up when he broke the nose of one of the guys who jumped Dante. But Bernardo sounds bat-shit crazy...he killed someone else while in juvie. How did the kid get so angry? Was it from when his father was in Vietnam? It's unclear whether or not Ari will ever be able to have contact with his brother, who is in prison, of course. Ari spent much of the book feeling angry that Bernardo was a taboo topic at home, that it was like the family had forgotten about him. I'm sure that Ari would see him if he could, even after learning the horrible truth, but Bernardo won't see any of his family. Ari thinks that Bernardo should "get over" his shame, and you know, as horrible as it was what he did, I can't agree with Ari more. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the most important thing I've learned from the books I've been reading is to not let the mistakes of the past bog you down. If you can make things right, try to, but if you can't, you have to let it go at some point and just live. Or die. It seems that to die would be better than to live with shame.

So the secret of the universe, according to this book, would be to not be ashamed. Ari starts to not feel ashamed of his feelings for Dante, and they share a passionate kiss in the desert at the end of the book. I had to go awwwww because I wanted it to happen. This wasn't an earth-shattering work of literature, but it's good to see strong stories with themes about homosexual teens. I don't think any kid should feel bad about being gay in this day and age. I want to believe that as a society, we've become more understanding. Bans on gay marriage are officially unconstitutional, and more and more states are making it officially legal for everyone to marry. Still, as if the teenage years weren't confusing enough, being a gay teen certainly can't be easy. I have a gay parent, so I know a little bit about it. And I can certainly understand being confused and not fitting in. I can understand Ari's loneliness and his pessimistic viewpoints. He also really was a sweet kid, as the adults in his life kept telling him. 

Now, sexual identity was definitely the biggest issue in the book, but racial identity had a place as well. As I noted, the characters are Mexican-Americans. I believe most of the parents, if not all of them, are first-generation Americans, all of whom have broken away from their families' traditions or beliefs in some way or another. For instance, Dante's mother worked her way through school and got a fellowship for her advanced degree to Berkeley, despite her father's belief that girls should not be formally educated. Lilly, as noted, was the only one in her family to keep in contact with Ophelia, and she and her husband and children were the only ones to attend her funeral (Ari inherited her house!). Sam Quintana, an English professor, has parents who don't even speak English at all. Now, in spite of all this, Ari identifies himself as being Mexican. He's darker, and he takes on the tough-guy persona. He can fight, and he's even tossed around the idea of joining a gang (though he knows his mother would never allow it, strict as she is, and his interest doesn't seem serious). Dante, on the other hand, doesn't identify with his Mexican heritage in the least. He comments, several times, that he doesn't feel Mexican, that he doesn't fit in with his poorer cousins. Ari doesn't really get Dante's lack of racial identity. This issue isn't ever really resolved, though they do joke about it a little bit.

This was a nice book. Not one that I would teach to a whole class...not because any of the material is objectionable (it's all rather tame), I just don't think enough students would connect with it to make it worth teaching to a whole group. I could see this book being banned in irrational communities (there are still too many of those) by homophobic, backwards people. I like to think our society is becoming better than that. Progress is slow, to be sure, and gay teens are still attacked and bullied all too often. But I think it's getting better, and I hope to see more quality books centered around gay teens in YA literature.

Part of Raphael's famous painting, The School of Athens. Philosopher Aristotle is the guy in blue; Plato is the older guy in purple. Ari was actually named for his grandfather, Aristotiles. But the connection was always made back to the famous Greek philosopher. Ari hated that; he felt like it made people have high expectations of it. Personally, I think it's kind of cool.

A famous image of Dante Alighieri. Dante's father, being an English professor, came up with the name, of course (though Dante was Italian). I've meant to read a translation of The Divine Comedy...perhaps I'll get to it when this semester is over, and I'm in the mood for some classics again.

Book #53: Mexican WhiteBoy

Book #53: Mexican WhiteBoy by Matt de la Peña

October 20, 2013


This was yet another text assigned for my YA literature course. And so far, it's probably the best book that I've read for this class, and perhaps among one of the best I've read this year. I'd heard of the book previously, but didn't know too much about it. My course instructor told me last week that this book was controversial in Arizona, the state where I earned my undergraduate degree. Arizona (particularly Maricopa County) has become infamous for its racist policies. This book was banned in schools (I know for sure in  Tucson), and according to my instructor, inspired state legislation to ban courses dedicated to Mexican-American literature, because of the popularity of this book. Can't say I was too surprised to hear it, but after reading this book, I am flabbergasted at how asinine such policies are. Did any of those fools even read this book?

In some ways, this book could be considered this generation's version of The Outsiders. No, it's not really about class warfare, per se, but there is a lot of reference to the haves and the have-nots of our society. There's also the activities of the characters (mostly teens), drinking and engaging in sexual activities (but seriously, not at all graphic is described in this book as far as that goes). And as for the drinking, well, let's not be naive here, people. Kids drink. Banning this book and others like it won't stop that. Even the violence in this book isn't too much...there's just enough of it to depict reality.

The main character, Danny, is fascinating in himself, and this book is full of likable, interesting characters. Danny is the "Mexican WhiteBoy" of the title, but he seems to be the only one who really, truly views it as being a bad thing. Though he has a point when he reflects, at one point, that he feels between two worlds, and not fully part of either. I've read other works by mixed-race authors, about such characters, and that seems to be a common feeling between them. Danny felt out of place at his mostly-white private school (I don't know if it's ever fully explained, but I think he got in there on a scholarship for his grades?), and he feels out of place with his father's Mexican family, though they're all friendly and welcoming to him. I am drawn to stories of close families, and the relationship between Danny and his cousin Sofia is especially nice to read about. She looks out for him, because she lives in a tough, mostly-Mexican neighborhood. I guess their neighborhood is called National City, and it's a suburb or subdivision of San Diego. It took me a while to figure it out, and it was driving me nuts...I'm like, I know the major cities of California, where the hell is National City?

Well, it's a beat-up place, and while Danny feels closer to his Mexican roots while he's there, his cousin and his eventual best friend are both looking for a way out. Uno, like Danny, is mixed race, but half-black instead of half-white. He's an amazing athlete, but Danny's talent at hitting and pitching blows him away. He is jealous at first, but grows to respect Danny, and then they become as close as brothers. Uno sees that Danny has a real future ahead of him; in spite of Danny's issues, he has a lot going for him with his natural baseball talent (honed throughout the summer with Uno's help) and his intelligence. Uno has had a tough past, and is looking to leave his mother's house (he is resentful of his drunk, bullying Mexican stepfather, especially of the fact that he sent his stepbrother, who is mentally handicapped, to a home) and get a fresh start in Oxnard, living with his black father and his stepmother and baby half-brother. Uno is a fierce fighter with a temper, but his good heart is clear from the beginning of the book, as his relationship with his stepbrother Manny is described.

The characters in the book look out for family and friends, and are fiercely close. It's confusing, the fact that Danny doesn't speak Spanish. This is examined throughout the book, as Danny wonders why his father (who he believes to be in Mexico, but is actually in prison on an assault conviction, a fact that was kept from him even though he was 13 at the time) never taught him any Spanish. He feels shut out form his family; plus, the girl he likes, Liberty, can only speak Spanish, having recently moved to San Diego from Mexico. Her situation is particularly interesting; I assume that her mother, a Mexican woman, had a one-night stand with a wealthy white businessman or lawyer. Liberty gets her father to sponsor her to the U.S., but she hardly has any contact with him, it seems, as he has a white family in the suburbs. She and Danny are the cutest couple ever by the end of the book, and even though Danny moves back in with his mother at the end of the book, he knows that he has deep enough roots now in his family's neighborhood that he'll be seeing plenty of her.

Sofia aspires to leave National City and attend college, being the first one in her family to do so. She comes across as being proud of being from the 'ghetto,' but she is smart and compassionate and wants more. I wish there had been some more focus on her during the book, but she is very important to Danny's story, being the first one to pull him out of his self-imposed silence. Poor Danny. Since his father left, he hasn't been dealing with it very well. He eventually clams up completely, believing that it does him no good to talk, anyway. He even self-mutilates, digging his fingernails into the insides of his arm when he's in a stressful situation. The people who care about him in National City eventually become wise to this habit, and while they don't really say anything, they show their disapproval and concern with their gestures, slapping his hands or giving him a look. After a particularly stressful scene, Danny uses a pair of tweezers to cut his arm, and Sofia discovers him in the bathroom bleeding. Though there isn't really any explicit resolution to this particular issue, it seems that by the end of the book, as Danny comes to some important realizations about his father and his relationship with him, he seems to have lost the urge to hurt himself.

It took Danny going to a seemingly unsavory neighborhood for the summer to 'save' him. His coming to himself seemed natural in these surroundings; he had friends, and family who were actually concerned for him (unlike his mother, who seemed only concerned for herself, though Danny comes to terms with some of this by summer's end as well). He has gotten control of his pitching, and is primed for a spot on his school's state-winning baseball team. There is hope for Uno, too, as he goes to live with his father, a former drug addict turned Christian philosopher. It's difficult to tell if Senior is another kook, or if he really is wise (I was leaning more towards the latter by the end of the book); Danny has the same feeling when he meets him. But it's easy to see that Uno's life, under his father's influence, will be better than it is with his emotional mother and asshole stepfather. And Sofia, going to stay with Danny, will go to a new public school in a nicer part of San Diego, and will be setting herself up to attend community college the following year. There is hope for the major characters in this book.

Since the discussion in our class always gets around to whether or not we would ever teach this book in our classrooms, I would say, absolutely yes. Perhaps not in my current teaching assignment, but if I ever found myself back in a regular public school, I would totally fit this book into my curriculum. The 'controversial' behaviors in the book are really no more shocking than what's in The Outsiders, a book typical to any 8th grade language arts curriculum. The messages of the book are positive, even if the situations are sometimes a little gritty. Arizona, on the whole, is a backwards-ass state, and I'm definitely glad that I did not end up becoming an educator there. 

An apartment complex adjacent to Las Palmas in National City, CA. I imagine that Carmen's apartment complex is much like this one.

Matt de la Peña. In the book, Danny is often admired for being "cute" by the girls in the neighborhood. I also saw that some of this book is based on the author's own experiences...obviously, part of that would be his looks. He's hot! And look at that dimple!