Romeo & Juliet - Mountain Shakespeare Festival

Production is well underway up here for this summer's Mountain Shakespeare Festival!  As dramaturg, I collaborate with the festival organizers, help the actors understand some of the more difficult lines, and pen the synopses of the plays.  This week I finished the write-up for Romeo and Juliet.  The staging our director (Peter Kjeenas) has planned will emphasize the stark inevitability of the tragedy, so that's where I placed my focus.  For more information, visit the Mountain Shakespeare Festival Website.  Show dates and times can be found HERE.

Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is the quintessential tale of lovers valiantly fighting against the external forces trying to thwart their love.  Not only do their families feud, but time and space seems to conspire against them.  They are indeed star-crossed and no matter what they do or where they turn, their fates are sealed.  Part of the tragic tug these two young characters exert on our hearts stems from that inevitability.  We know from the first lines of the play that their fortunes, written in the stars, have been predetermined.  Still, we can’t help but wish, each time through, that Romeo could indeed “Defy the stars” and foil the destiny decreed by parents, society and the universe. 

Shakespeare here makes it clear that all of cosmology conspires against these two.  In a world of darkness, they see each other as light.  Juliet is Romeo’s “sun” and he to her is “day in night,” but together they are like the “lightening, which doth cease to be ere one can say it lightens.”  They give each other light and heat, but like supernovas, they implode and the darkness, inevitably returns.  Their struggle is like that of Sisyphus – and though at times it appears as though they can steer their own course, their struggle is mythical and they are ultimately unable to “shake the yoke of inauspicious stars.”  We watch as they push their rock of love up a mountain of obstacles, hoping each time that the outcome will be different.  But they’re trapped in their story and their story remains the same.  Much as we’d like to redirect the outcome of their “death-mark’d love,” they are indeed “fortune’s fools.”  Shakespeare here reminds us that perhaps we are too.

Book Review: Home - A Memoir of My Early Years (Julie Andrews)

I have been listening to Julie Andrews sing for as long as I can remember.  My father was a big fan and on long car trips, we’d all sing along to the soundtracks of My Fair Lady, Camelot and The Sound of Music.  With each song, I’d make believe I was her.  I’d be furious with Henry Higgins and irritated by Freddie Eynsford-Hill right along with her. I’d decry the unfairness of arranged marriages to St. Genevieve and then turn around and whistle with King Arthur as I fell reluctantly, but completely in love with Lancelot.  And though I never came close, always I would try to match her pure, exuberant sound.  So naturally, I was very eager to read her autobiography, Home: A Memoir of My Early Years, and discover more about what it was like to perform those fantastic roles on Broadway.


The autobiography was a bit slow to me at first.  She begins by explaining the various elder branches of her family tree in a bit more detail than I was really interested in.  Still, Julie Andrews is a wonderful storyteller (as evidenced by her many successful works of fiction) and I soon was caught up in the drama of her early life.  Her stories of growing up in a broken home were heartbreaking, but even more compelling were her memories of London during WWII.  She provides a firsthand account of hiding in underground bomb shelters and literally dodging enemy attacks.  Her life was quite thoroughly in discord from within and without.


Along the way, she provides the reader with fascinating tidbits about the vaudeville scene in England, while explaining her family’s history with musical performance.  It was her step-father, whose name (Ted Andrews) she was forced to adopt, who first gave her voice lessons and who quickly and wisely insisted she move on to a more experienced vocal instructor (Madame Lilian Stiles-Allen) once he realized the potential of her power and range.  But it’s clear that there’s no love lost between her and her stepfather.  She describes him as an alcoholic, violent jerk who came close, on more than one occasion, to molesting her.


Admittedly, I was eager to get on to her career on Broadway and was a bit impatient to get past all of her family background, but her descriptions of how she learned vocal technique were fascinating and I loved learning about her early vocal performances and how she used to wow the crowds with her high F (2 ½ octaves above middle C) when she sang the aria “Je Suis Titania” from Mignon (see Youtube clip below).  Looking back at the autobiography as a whole, I’m glad she included so much of her childhood.  She really was a child prodigy and performed extensively from the age of 12 on, so those early experiences certainly shed light on who she is both as an individual and as a performer.  Nevertheless, I was grateful when she finally turned her attention to her first big lead performance in The Boy Friend and those first days in rehearsal for My Fair Lady.


Her stories about working with Lerner & Lowe, and learning her craft at the direction of Moss Hart are really the heart of the book for me.  She describes meeting various celebrities who came to see the hit show and tells hilarious tales about working with Rex Harrison and Stanley Holloway.  Equally compelling is her personal story of living in New York with relatively little money, despite hobnobbing with Broadway’s elite.  She’s quite honest about her own inexperience and insecurities as she struggled over how to portray Eliza Doolittle and later Queen Guenevere.


I so wish there were film footage of her performances of My Fair Lady and Camelot.  All I’ve ever had to appreciate are the original Broadway soundtracks and I can’t help but curse the idiots in Hollywood who cast poor substitutes in what will always be quintessentially, her roles.  Reading her account of these shows in Home gave me an inkling of what they must have been like, but made me all the more sad to have never seen her.  I have of course, seen her television performance of Cinderella, filmed during this same basic time period.  It’s grainy, but still wonderful.


The autobiography concludes with her marriage to set designer Tony Walton, the birth of her daughter Emma and her call to Hollywood to film Mary Poppins.  I can’t wait for her to write Volume 2 of her fascinating story.  Even though I know the basic outline of her later life, I feel like I’ve been left with a cliffhanger and I’m eager for the sequel.    Until then, enjoy this clips from her early days as a performer:

Book Review: At Home: A Short History of Private Life - Bill Bryson

Most rating systems go from one to five stars, but even given those parameters, I feel compelled to give Bill Bryson’s At Home: A Short History of Private Life, six hearty, shooting stars! How's that for containing my enthusiasm?  Bryson accomplishes so much here that is rare and invaluable.  Both as a teacher hoping to instill a true LOVE of history in my students and just as a person with basic human curiosity, I’m so very grateful for this gem of a book.

After completing the ambitious, but equally enthralling A Short History of Nearly Everything, in which he assumed the daunting task of explaining scientific knowledge about the universe, Bryson decided to turn his attention toward the history of more ordinary things.  He describes his inspiration this way: “Looking around my house, I was startled and somewhat appalled to realize how little I knew about the domestic world around me.”

Living as he does in a home that was originally an English parsonage built in 1851, Bryson decided to take that year as his starting point. Conveniently, 1851 happens to coincide with London’s “Great Exhibition,” where people from nations all over the world gathered to display their newest inventions... many of which contributed greatly to the “comforts” enjoyed in most modern, western homes. 1851 though, is by no means a line drawn in the sand. Bryson frequently skips further back into history to explain the older origins of his various subjects. In fact, he begins his history of the HOME by exploring the question of “why people live in homes at all.” The answers allow him to take his readers on an intriguing archeological jaunt through ancient history.

Part of Bryson’s genius here is that he does not adopt the time worn structure of organizing his history chronologically. This book most definitely is not reminiscent of your old doorstop tome from the Western Civ., general ed. class you were required to take in college. Instead, with humor and his own keen interest, which is palpably alive to the reader, Bryson takes us on a tour of his house. As we proceed from room to room, he fills us in on the background traditions, historical innovations and quirky oddities pertaining to each.

For example, in the “Hall,” he traces the downward linguistic spiral of a word once used to donate the main gathering room in a castle, to the place where we “wipe feet and hang hats.” In doing so, he not only details the communal nature of ancient and medieval living situations, but also clarifies that the “board” in “room & board” literally originates from the board that served for most dining surfaces.

Upon entering “The Kitchen,” Bryson treats his hungry readers to a delicious, multi-course meal covering the history of food, its preparation and preservation. The information is fascinating, athough metaphors aside, you may wish to read this chapter on an empty stomach, as it details the many and sundry additives deceptive food sellers once used to bulk up their products. Eighteenth century tea, for example, might have included “anything from sawdust to powdered sheep’s dung.”

In his chapter on “The Fuse Box,” he provides a history of lighting, detailing our evolution from smoky, candle-lit rooms to gas lighting and electric fixtures, defusing (so to speak) the mistaken notion that our ancestors in “the pre-electric world went to bed at nightfall.” His chapter on the “Drawing Room,” provides a thorough history, and thankfully clarifies the origin for the title of this room, which has nothing in the slightest to do with artistic endeavors. In fact, he explains, “the term is a shortening of the much older Withdrawing Room, meaning a space where the family could withdraw from the rest of the household for greater privacy."

Bryson’s book is filled with fascinating nuggets like this, but it would be misleading to give anyone the impression that this is merely a book of interesting trivia. No indeed! This is a sweeping and absorbing historical account of why we live as we do and it will keep you up reading much later into the night than you’d planned. It’s that much of a page turner.

I fully plan to pass At Home along to my teen daughters as a far more palatable and exciting entré into history and I fervently hope Bryson will continue writing such fascinating books. Much as I love his travel odysseys (and I definitely do), I think it is in writing books like this one where he makes his most invaluable contributions.

Book Review: Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students

Many parents of “gifted” students opt to homeschool because it allows children to learn at what are, more often than not, asynchronous levels.  It’s rare to find a child who is “gifted” in all areas at the same rate.  Far more common is the 8 year old doing high school math, but 3rd grade writing or the 10 year old reading Dickens with ease, but struggling with science.  These are not students who will benefit from “skipping” a grade or two.  However, traditional schools will inevitably be tedious for a child who finds 3rd grade level “reading comprehension” questions difficult, but loves algebra.

Homeschooling makes it possible for parents to tailor curriculum to meet the specific needs of gifted children.  This though is not the only benefit of homeschooling the gifted child.  Most people don’t realize that gifted children are often also dealing with a number of issues that make traditional schooling difficult.  Too often people think of giftedness in its simplest form.  We all remember the over-achieving kid in school who became valedictorian and who seemingly glided through every difficult course with ease.  The stereotype of gifted kids is that they’re exceptionally smart and have an easy time with all things academic.  The reality though is that giftedness is often associated with sensitivities and explosive personalities.  These kids struggle in areas where others never have difficulties.  The intensities of gifted kids can create emotional and social issues that many parents find easier to address if they are homeschooling.

This is why I so appreciate the work of Christine Fonseca in her new book Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students: Helping Kids Cope with Explosive Feelings.  She addresses not just the cognitive abilities of gifted students, but also the problems created by their emotional intensity and asynchronicity.  Her book provides a detailed description of what she calls the “talents” and “troubles” of gifted kids and lays out the approaches that research has found to be most successful in helping kids and parents cope with both sides of the “gifted” coin.

No two kids experience exactly the same problems, but Fonseca creates a number of “example” kids she uses throughout the book to demonstrate how different approaches will elicit a variety of reactions.  She details real world situations any parent or teacher of a gifted child will recognize.  For example, many gifted students experience an unusually high level of perfectionism that will often make them “shut down” and stop trying when things don’t come easily the first time.  As a result, you get the frustrating problem of the extremely bright student failing classes.  This can happen because of perfectionism or boredom.  We’ve all heard the stories of Einstein’s abysmal school grades.  Fonseca provides clear guidelines for determining what may be at the root of the problem and effective strategies for helping that child.

Gifted children are also more likely to cope with a paralyzing existential angst that leaves them feeling hopeless and sometimes cripplingly anxious or depressed.  Too often this kind of “gifted” child turns to drugs or opts out in different ways.  Fonseca helps parents understand what’s going on with their child and explains different “coaching” techniques parents can use to help their child understand and effectively deal with this kind of anxiety.  She provides several “parent-child dialogue” samples and gives step by step advice for helping a child learn relaxation techniques that can really make a difference.  Fonseca explains that gifted kids are sometimes misdiagnosed with psychological illnesses (anxiety/panic disorder, OCD, manic depression, etc.) that in reality are better understood as part and parcel of being gifted.  Her practical approaches to helping these kids understand themselves and learn to cope with their environment are often far more effective in the long run than medications.

If you have a gifted child, this is definitely a book you’ll want to read.  Fonseca provides useful strategies to help both parents and teachers recognize issues related to giftedness and better guide these kids as they learn about themselves and their world.  I am particularly grateful for the practical advice she provides for helping kids deal with the internal and external stress that leads to extreme emotional intensity.  She reminds us that teaching should not and cannot be confined to academics.  Our job as parents, teachers and mentors is to help kids learn about all aspects of life.  The problems gifted students often experience can be bewildering, frustrating and heart-breaking.  Fonseca has made a great contribution to helping people understand the unique and too often unmet needs of gifted students.

Book Review Plus

I have created a website exclusively for Book Reviews called www.Bookreviewplus.com.  So, if you're missing the book reviews here, take a moment and go explore the new site.  I hope eventually to fill it with a large variety of book reviews:  Fiction, Non Fiction, Children's Literature and Classic Literature and include such features as book club discussion questions, lesson plans and writing assignments to complement the reviews. It will take awhile to grow, but it's on its way...  Hope to see you there! J

Book Review: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

Reading a strong and captivating work of non-fiction (like this one:  The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks) is my favorite way to learn.  It's one of the reasons I homeschool.  I never wanted my kids to think history or science was boring and dry simply because they were forced to learn it from some lame textbook, written by a committee of otherwise unemployable writers who are forced to cover every topic on a laundry list of state standards.  End rant.... and my apologies if you happen to be the author of a lame textbook -- but, admit it... I speak the truth.  This book is the antithesis of the typical lame textbook; it's a fascinating look at a part of science and medicine I knew very little about.  Considering how much the modern world has benefited from the cells of Ms. Lacks, its amazing more people don't know their history.


Henrietta Lacks was a poor, black woman struck down by cervical cancer at the age of 31.  The medical treatment she received at Johns Hopkins Hospital was appalling, though not unusual for that time.  What was unusual was that a doctor there happened to be collecting tissue samples in an attempt to grow cells in culture.  He'd had marginal success, but the samples always died out rather quickly.  Ms. Lacks' cancerous tissue cells were quite different -- they appeared to be immortal.  They could reproduce endlessly (doubling every 4 hours), making it possible for scientists to study and conduct tests on them.  These cells allowed scientists to develop treatments for diseases such as polio, cancer, AIDS, diabetes and innumerable others.  The field of virology began with the discovery of these cells, known as HeLa cells (named from the 1st letters of Ms. Lacks' first and last name).  Scientists infected HeLa cells with everything from mumps and measles to herpes and learned how cells react and change when exposed to disease.   In 1953 researchers discovered by accident that a certain staining agent could make cell chromosomes visible and genetic medicine was born.  Finally, doctors understood the chromosomal basis for Down's Syndrome and were able to develop genetic tests, such as amniocentesis.  Eventually, they were able to map the entire human genome thanks to HeLa cells and one can only guess the medical breakthroughs that are yet to be made as a result of that knowledge.  Gene therapies, cloning technology, in vitro fertilization, stem cells, all were reliant on HeLa cells.


It goes without saying that countless scientists and medical corporations have enjoyed immeasurable financial profit (easily billions if not trillions of dollars), from work that would have been impossible without the cells of Henrietta Lacks.  Many went into the business of simply distributing HeLa cells.  It's estimated that although you could fit 100 HeLa cells on the head of pin, over 50 million metric tons of her cells exist in labs all over the world.  Yet, her family has never seen any of that profit and were often so poor that they couldn't even afford the medical insurance necessary to utilize some of the medicines developed through their mother's cells.  This book delves into not only the history of how HeLa cells have impacted science and medicine, but also into the lives of her children after her death.  The author, Rebecca Skloot, humanizes these cells by providing the background information about Henrietta Lacks and how her 5 children were affected by what happened with their mother's cells.  It's a mostly sad and very unfortunate tale of a poverty stricken family and how they were manipulated and taken advantage of by those with greater power and education.


I was impressed by the vast amount of scientific and biographical material Skloot covers in this book (the info about HeLa as a contaminant was fascinating), but the ethical issues she discusses are equally gripping.  Medical ethics and patient privacy have come a long way since Henrietta Lacks died, but it's astonishing how much power doctors still have over our tissues.  There are billions of samples of human tissue stored in laboratories all over the world (and if you have ever had, say, a mole removed, one might be yours).  We all benefit from medical research and certainly nobody wants to halt that progress in any way, still there must be a way to improve consent laws and educate people in greater detail about these issues.  Medical ethics are often thorny and complicated and a balance between individual rights and the needs of medical progress will likely continue to be endlessly negotiated in both laboratories and the courts.


I really enjoyed Skloot's approach in this book.  It was a tremendous amount of information to organize, but she does an admirable job of keeping this story both informative and interesting.  The details could easily have been rendered dry and boring if they'd been placed in the hands of the textbook hacks mentioned above.  However, Skloot's skillful rendering had me up quite late several nights, unable to put it down even though I knew an early morning was waiting for me.  I definitely recommend it and will look for her next project.

Book Review: Franklin and Eleanor - An Extraordinary Marriage

I seem to be on a bit of WWII binge lately (1st Unbroken, then Hotel and now this).  Franklin and Eleanor: An Extraordinary Marriage, like Hillenbrand's book, is a biography, but unlike most biographies which center on a single person, this one takes as its main focus:  a marriage.  What a marriage it was, too!  Hazel Rowley takes the reader along on a realistic and startling look at how these two powerful figures negotiated their lives together.


Yes, Rowley covers all the old gossip topics -- the well known affairs, etc., but because she keeps her focus on the marriage, she never throws blame at one or the other.  Instead she helps us understand how this powerful couple moved beyond jealousy to support and cement their relationship.  They accomplished so much together and its difficult to imagine that either would have been nearly as successful without the other. Still, they had such different personalities and temperaments that its quite easy to understand why they also had to find a way to maintain their own independent identities.  By the end of the book, you certainly have an impression of a strong bond that was beneficial to so many.


Their marriage certainly makes you wonder about how society usually handles betrayal and divorce.  Dissolving a union is sometimes inevitable, but there are cases where its easy to see that there might be advantages to maintaining the partnership.  Two people who support and admire each other as these two did, might manage to carve a different sort of marriage that still benefits them and those around them.


The author does a good job of humanizing both figures too.  Using letters and first hand accounts we hear the insecurities of each and can't help but admire how they overcome the various hardships in their lives, emotional and physical.  You get a very clear sense of two people who grow stronger as they overcome their set backs.


As a political history, this book does a great job of documenting the various causes these two championed.  They were ahead of their time (especially Eleanor) in their views on human rights, civil rights, women's rights and labor rights.  They served their country very well and sincerely tried to better the world.  I came away from this book strongly admiring both Eleanor and Franklin.  I've always shared their political views, but the book gave me a greater sense of how far out on a limb they each were, fighting for things we take for granted today.

Book Review: Hotel on the Corner of Bitter & Sweet

I wanted to like Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet.  I really did.  I recently finished reading Laura Hillenbrand's unbelievable, but true account of Japanese POW survivor Louis Zamperini:  Unbroken. That book really gave me a whole new perspective on the U.S. "evacuations" of the Japanese in WWII to places like Manzanar, CA.  I had heard first hand accounts from survivors of Manzanar and had never understood how the U.S. (in the throes of fighting Germany and its horrific concentration camps) could ever possibly do such a thing to its own citizens.  Reading Unbroken certainly didn't convince me it was the right thing to do, but it did give me a clearer picture of the fear and rage people felt towards the Japanese at that time.


This book promised a look into the other side of the story.  The book details a young Chinese-American boy from Seattle who befriends and loves a young Japanese-American girl who is then shuttled off with her family and the other residents of Seattle's Japan Town to an internment camp.  The book focuses on the prejudice that surrounds the boy from all sides -- his father and his white schoolmates hate the Japanese and his schoolmates hate him for being an Asian of any stripe.  The other Chinese-American kids on his block tease him for going to an all white school and his best friend, a black jazz musician, is also subject to racism.


I liked the voice of the young boy and the jazz angle, but the plot was ridiculously predictable and too often it slipped into an almost sickly sweet, "romance novel" style.  I felt like the author was trying to drag an emotional reaction out of me.  There were also odd anachronisms that were irritating.  The book goes from the early 1940s to 1986, but apparently in Jamie Ford's 1986, the internet exists allowing the main character's now grown son to participate in "on-line counseling" sessions after his mother's death and find his father's long lost friend with a few minutes of internet searching.  The 1986 internet????  Ok.


I finished the book, which surprised me.  I usually can't force myself to follow these through to the end when they're so predictable.   I think I just kept hoping the author would prove me wrong and do something unusual with it all -- never happened.  Skip it -- reread Farewell to Manzanar instead :)

Book Review: Unbroken

Reading Unbroken was an EXPERIENCE!  Hillenbrand is an amazing writer and I see now why people made such a fuss about Seabiscuit, which I will now be sure to read.  This is the story of an Olympic Athlete, Louis Zamporini -- a runner from Torrance, CA.  He'd been a troublemaker in his youth and focusing on his running turned him around.  He was good and probably would have been great, had he been given the chance to compete in his 2nd Olympics, but the 1940 Olympic games were cancelled for WWII and Zamperini went to war.  When his plane goes down in the Pacific, leading to an extended (seriously extended) stay in a flimsy raft, you think this is about as awful a fate as anyone could imagine.  But wait, things are just getting started.  I found myself thinking, over and over again, that this situation couldn't possibly get any worse.  From sharks to Japanese gunfire attacks, starvation and dehydration, the situation does nothing but worsen and just when you think salvation and rescue are around the corner, the man is beaten down again.  To say this is a page turner is frankly an understatement.


If this were fiction, I would've complained that the author had seriously overdone the hardship plot.  This however, is a true story and Louie Zamperini, as of the writing of this post, is still alive and kicking -- he's the quintessential man with a mission.  "True Grit," as a description, doesn't begin to cover him.   I never want to give away too much in these reviews -- I've never been interested in reviews filled with plot summary that just end up as one big spoiler -- so, suffice it to say, what I've described here is the merest hint of all that this man endures.  That his story ends as it does is truly inspirational and I'm not one who usually goes in for inspirational story-lines.  There's nothing corny here though.


The book does such an exceptional job of making Zamperini's experiences real for the reader, that I found myself with a whole new understanding of WWII and a bit more empathy for an older generation that still displays quite a bit of animosity towards the Japanese.  As a homeschool Mom, when my kids are a bit older -- this is most definitely a book I will use to teach them about WWII.  My own education regarding that war focused primarily on the events in Germany and this book provided great insight into what was happening in the Pacific and what it meant to be a POW in that war.  I hate learning anything about history from textbooks as they usually render events dry and dull.  This book is definitely one that brings history to life in an unforgettable way.


Below is the television special on Zamperini's life mentioned at the end of the novel (Youtube has split it into 4 parts). It was amazing to see the real life incarnations of these people I'd read about with rapt fascination for nearly 500 pages.  Enjoy!


Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

Part Four:

Book Review: Cutting for Stone

Abraham Verghese is a surgeon and a writer, but most importantly for me, he's a teacher.  He does in fact work as a Professor at Stanford Medical School, but I'm referring to the teaching he does in his book.


On its surface, Cutting for Stone is a coming of age novel about a boy born in a mission hospital in Ethiopia to an Indian nun (who dies giving birth to him and his (briefly) conjoined twin) and a British surgeon (Dr. Stone -- the name providing one layer of meaning for the title which refers to part of the Hippocratic oath -- see addendum below).  The father abandons the brothers the moment their mother dies and they are raised by two married Indian surgeons who also work at the mission hospital and who teach the boys to love the medicine they practice and apprentice them at an early age.


It's a good yarn and I enjoyed the story being told, but the best part of the book is Verghese's ability to take you through incident after incident at the hospital and teach you about medicine as you go in a meaningful and captivating way.  He uses medicine as a metaphor for life at times and it usually works, but his greatest accomplishment is combining his skills as surgeon and writer to dissect and separate various aspects of the work at the hospital with a surgeon's precision and write about them with the compassion and poetry they deserve.


This book struck me as a combination of fiction and non-fiction, in the best possible way.  I believe Verghese has mentioned in interviews that some parts of the book are autobiographical and his intimacy with his subject matter shows.  He takes his skills as an author (he holds an MFA from the Iowa Writer's Workshop) and uses them to make the easily dry and tedious world of medical knowledge captivating.  His characters are very well drawn and the reader's fascination with the material grows along with theirs.


I love the combination of literature with any profession because poetry should infuse everything we do -- it humanizes our actions.  The best authors can make drying paint a fascinating subject.  Medicine is, of course, inherently captivating if handled by a skilled author and Verghese certainly is that.  This is definitely a book that entertains and informs in the best possible way.


There is also a deep spirituality that runs through the book -- almost a variation of magical realism -- that imbues meaning to the actions and events that occur.  It's not magical realism though -- the magic, I think stems from a literary resonance.

I read an interview with Verghese about his dual careers and found him fascinating.  Any medical professor who regularly assigns literature to his students (for example, to teach his students about end of life issues, he assigns Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Illych), is my kind of guy.


ADDENDUM:  Verghese, explaining his title in an interview...

"There is a line in the Hippocratic Oath that says: ‘I will not cut for stone, even for patients in whom the disease is manifest.’ It stems from the days when bladder stones were epidemic, a cause of great suffering, probably from bad water and who knows what else. […] There were itinerant stonecutters—lithologists—who could cut either into the bladder or the perineum and get the stone out, but because they cleaned the knife by wiping it on their blood-stiffened surgical aprons, patients usually died of infection the next day. Hence the proscription ‘Thou shall not cut for stone.’ […] It isn’t just that the main characters have the surname Stone; I was hoping the phrase would resonate for the reader just as it does for me, and that it would have several levels of meaning in the context of the narrative."

Book Review: Nurture Shock

I'm a book gal - no doubt about it.  Read all about it is a motto that has served me very well.  Want to learn to knit? Read, follow directions, voila - knit! Want to learn to cook?  Well, you get the idea.  So, when I was pregnant, I faithfully followed all instructions in What to Expect When You're Expecting and a host of other books I'm willing to bet we've all at least thumbed through. But once my kids were born, my tried and true method began to fail.  Parenting advice on any number of vital subjects (colic, sleep, picky eating,separation anxiety, time outs) not only failed me, but led me down disastrous paths I never would have chosen instinctually - sleep in particular, was a minefield I would handle entirely differently.  It took me an astonishingly long time to realize that children, unlike stitches and risottos, will not behave in predictable ways and that regardless of how well one "pattern/recipe" may have turned out for another parent:  results will definitely vary.


Now, having abandoned almost all bookish advice on child rearing, I will occasionally glance through the child rearing advice section at bookstores, but I generally regard them as biographies of parenting adventures having little or nothing to do with my particular adventure.  Coming across Bronson and Merryman's Nurture Shock:  New Thinking About Children, however, I have to put it in a new and far more interesting category.  This is one of the first books I've read that explains why most parenting ideas I read when my children were toddlers backfired so dramatically on me.


Nurture Shock doesn't offer any specific advice; it simply analyzes outcomes of various parenting strategies in light of the most recent research on the science of child development/behavior.  With that premise it can take on subjects like why and how praise backfires, why most strategies to encourage truthfulness in children end up making them better liars, what we actually lose when we lose an hour of sleep, how and if self-control can be taught and many other subjects I found fascinating.  One chapter onsibling rivalry was subtitled "Freud was wrong.  Shakespeare was right. Why siblings really fight." - Now you know that got my attention!  I was also particularly impressed with a chapter on children's television that focuses on specific programming techniques that are backfiring.  I happen to agree with McLuhan that the "medium is the message," but I found it fascinating to discover why children's programming aimed at teaching "conflict resolution" fails so dramatically.  Other chapters tackle such subjects as gifted programs, "The Science of Teen Rebellion," "Why White Parents Don't Talk About Race," and early language acquisition.  Overall, I found it a fascinating look at modern parenting and recommend it wholeheartedly.

Book Review: The Well Trained Mind

I began thinking about homeschooling when my first daughter Charlotte was just a few months old and by some lucky coincidence, one of the first books I found on the subject was W.W. Norton & Company’s The Well Trained Mind, by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise.   The classical approach had a natural appeal to me and having taught writing at USC for the previous 10 years, I easily related to Susan Wise’s experience in the college classroom.  In the book, she describes how stunned she was to find that many of her students at the College of William and Mary entered her classroom with mediocre to abysmal writing skills.   I too had been repeatedly surprised at the number of students who had managed to be accepted to a major university, but couldn’t recognize an incomplete sentence.   Maybe I was a snob or maybe public AND private high schools weren’t doing their job.  Either way, I knew I could do better.


Reading The Well Trained Mind, (literally cover to cover – I was entranced) really helped me to understand, on a practical level, the day to day aspects of classical homeschooling.  Suddenly I could envision homeschooling fitting in with our general family life and my fairly rigorous educational goals for my little daughter – who at that point hadn’t even mastered sitting up on her own.  Still, I was ambitious and plunged ahead.  I purchased some of the curriculum recommended in the book and over the next several years read widely on the topic of homeschooling.  I mean, REALLY WIDELY!  Having gone from the sort of crazy schedule necessary for graduate school and teaching, I was used to a fairly busy lifestyle.  Suddenly finding myself home all day with a newborn, I was literally flailing about for something to occupy my time.  Researching homeschooling methods became a bit of an obsession.  Yet, I really had already stumbled on the approach that would prove most valuable.  The Well Trained Mind begins with Jessie Wise (Susan’s mother) explaining her approach to homeschooling back in the 1970s and why she chose a classical approach.  Susan, the product of that approach, then describes how well served she and her siblings had been by her classical education and why she has continued it with her own children.


The classical approach places great focus on the written word, an important skill for most professionals and essential to everyone in the age of the internet.  That focus holds an obvious appeal for me, but there are two other important facets of the approach that I find make a great deal of sense.  The first of these is the way classical education blends with a child’s abilities at different stages of development.  Following ancient traditions, The Well Trained Mind categorizes what we think of as primary & secondary education into 3 different stages:  the Grammar Stage (roughly, 1st – 4th graders); The Logic Stage (5th – 8th graders) and the Rhetoric Stage (9th – 12th graders).  Little kids are sponges, so at this “grammar” stage the classical approach takes advantage of that ability and gives them lots of information (generally through a story-telling approach), so they establish little “hooks” on which they later can hang a more thorough understanding.  They also enjoy memorizing at this early age, so it makes sense that this is the time when they learn their multiplication tables, etc.  As they get older and become more interested in cause and effect the approach changes to one where logical relationships are explained and analyzed.   As Bauer puts it:


“A student is ready for the Logic Stage when the capacity for abstract thought begins to mature. During these years, the student begins algebra and the study of logic, and begins to apply logic to all academic subjects. The logic of writing, for example, includes paragraph construction and learning to support a thesis; the logic of reading involves the criticism and analysis of texts, not simple absorption of information; the logic of history demands that the student find out why the War of 1812 was fought, rather than simply reading its story; the logic of science requires that the child learn the scientific method.”


The final “Rhetorical” stage, building on an already strong foundation, allows students to begin to specialize and nurture their own unique abilities and interests:  “these are the years for art camps, college courses, foreign travel, apprenticeships, and other forms of specialized training.”


This 3-fold pattern is known as the classical “trivium,” and although it divides learning into different “stages” of ability, the 2nd thing I like most about classical education is the way it integrates the different “subjects” of learning.  History, literature, science, mathematics and art are inextricably linked and dividing them into isolated fragments to be studied separately from one another has always struck me as ridiculous.  Any work of literature is enriched by understanding the historical events surrounding its creation.   Similarly, we have a better grasp of biology, geometry, chemistry, calculus, physics, astronomy, etc., if we have a chronological understanding of how, when and why different scientific and mathematical discoveries were made.  Focusing on the chronology of events allows students to look for connections, see how knowledge builds on knowledge and understand/analyze cause and effect.


The classical curriculum accomplishes this by “taking history as its organizing outline.”  This can be better understood by looking at the divisions used in the various stages of the trivium.  As each division (grammar, logic and rhetoric) comprises three years, the course of study for those years is divided as follows:


Year 1:  Ancients - Biology


Year 2: Middle Ages – Astronomy/Earth Science


Year 3: Renaissance to 18th Century - Chemistry


Year 4: Modern Age - Physics


(During each year, the student studies the literature, art and music that correspond to that era – and the branch of science as indicated.)


One of the history classes taught at Huck for the younger students operates on this model.  The “Story of the World” classes are based on a series (also by Susan Bauer) of four books, which taken together provide a strong, chronological overview of history.  To me the chronology is key!  It provides an understanding of the resonance of events, how their aftershocks continue to affect the world.   Learning history this way changes the way one thinks about everyday things—whether in our personal life, in raising kids, or in political participation.  People make more informed political choices when they are able to understand, for example, the real economic impact of decisions being made today on our future. More than that, I’d argue that understanding history as a chronological “story” helps build comprehension and promotes a healthy skepticism.  These are things I want for my children’s education.


Beyond the philosophy of education advocated in The Well Trained Mind, it is also a fantastic source for curriculum review.  Ten years ago, without a clue how to approach the teaching of, say, handwriting, this book took me by the hand and showed me several options.  It does that for each subject and at each grade level.  I particularly appreciate how the authors lay out their reasoning for each of the curriculum choices they recommend.  When the 10th Anniversary Edition came out last summer, I happily invested another $25 to get their recommendations on more recent curriculum options and I imagine I’ll do it again in 5 years or so.  I think everyone’s homeschooling approach ends up being a bit of this and a bit of that and mine is no exception.  I, like most, have ended up doing whatever works best for each child.  Still, without a doubt, this is the book that’s had the greatest influence on how I approach my children’s education.

Book Review: Into The Wild

Into the Wild is a book my brother recommended to me and I'm really glad he did. This is more of a personal review than most I've put up on the blog, but this one struck me in a very personal way, so it's all I can do.  Reading Into the Wild was like taking a trip back in time to my 20s, before husband, kids and house, when I was obsessed with Edward Abbey, Thoreau, etc. and listening to excessive amounts of Joni Mitchell.  Looking back, it was the most formative time for me.  Al Gore's Earth in the Balance had just come out and I was excitedly assigning chapters of it to my freshman writing students at USC and having them write argumentative essays on the environment.  I was spending lots of time skiing and hiking and was never happier than when I was with my brother somewhere up in the mountains.  Years later when the opportunity to escape the smog and clog of Long Beach and actually live in the mountains arose -- I jumped on it.  No matter how stressed and depressed I become, walking outside (even just to breathe awhile) calms me.


Anyway, back then, I had a close friend from high school who was similarly obsessed with nature and the environment.  He was living in the forests near Humboldt in an old camper with no heat, not terribly unlike McCandless' abandoned bus.  We'd visit back and forth, but one visit, when I stayed for a week, definitely sticks out in my mind because of subsequent events.  That week we hiked a lot through the woods and then we'd go back to the camper to huddle in our sleeping bags and shiver through the nights. It's a trip I'll never forget, though the aftermath was a bit dramatic (fodder for some serious fiction, but not this blog - sorry).  These personal experiences influenced my experience of Into the Wild and were impossible to escape, so they color my review as well.


Much of the criticism of Christopher McCandless, the focus of this biography, comes from people who just can't wrap their heads around the way he thought about things.   He set off on a two year odyssey, eschewing (for the most part) money, friends, technology, etc.  He traveled around the U.S. and a bit of Mexico with nothing but his backpack, enjoying the solitude and his growing sense of self-sufficiency. He felt passionately about nature and about avoiding the trappings of modern life -- and because there was a time when my inclinations (& those of my closest friends) pointed the same way, I can't relate to the criticism detailed in the book.  I find him more of a kindred spirit than an oddity.


McCandless was born just a few months after I was, so when he was on this trek, we were basically the same age, reading the same things and sharing the same philosophical outlook... only he was walking the walk and I was mostly just talk.  His walk led him to the Alaskan wilderness where he lived in the wild for a few months before dying (likely from starvation induced by ingesting a poisonous potato seed).  He'd been hunting for his food and eating berries, seeds and herbs that grew wild, but happened on one that made him terribly sick and even after his initial recovery the poison inhibited nutrients from being metabolized properly in his body.


This author, Jon Krakauer (who also wrote Into Thin Air about a Mt. Everest trek), does a great job of researching every bit of information that could be discovered about the elusive McCandless who had severed ties with his family before setting off on his journey, likely out of a sense of disillusionment with what he saw as their hypocrisy (and hell, probably everyone can relate to feeling that way at that age -- that break would likely have been mended).  Krakauer has very little to go on:  a few letters, McCandless' notes/underlines in books found in the abandoned bus where McCandless died in Alaska, and testimony from a few people he met along the way.  He made a strong impression apparently on just about everyone he met.  He was quite smart and clearly his philosophy was rather unique.


Personally, McCandless struck me as so similar to my high school friend, toughing it out in the wilds of the Humboldt County forests during the same time period, that he just seemed like an old friend himself.  I can still relate to his philosophical outlook, which was fostered in me early on by reading and re-reading all the old Laura Ingalls Wilder books.  Much of what I read as a child, My Side of the Mountain, Where the Red Fern Grows, Robinson Crusoe, Island of the Blue Dolphins, and many others, fed this notion of self-sufficiency and living closer to the land.  I always felt mis-placed in this century -- clearly a mistake had been made.  Anyway, I thought Krakauer's book was fantastic and highly recommend it.

Book Review: Room

The subject matter of Room is generally one I stay away from.  Years ago, when my book club chose The Lovely Bones, I abstained.  I have two daughters and I knew that the story of a girl being brutally killed would haunt me regardless of how well written it was.  I don't see scary/horror type movies for the same reason.  Stories don't leave me.... I choose carefully.


So when I began to hear about Room (by Emma Donoghue) a book about a five year old boy, his mother and their life in the 11'x11' "room" where they're kept captive by a psychopath, I wasn't exactly running to the book store.  But, as I read more reviews, a few things about the book made me think twice.  First, it's told in the 1st person voice of the five year old boy.  Everything is filtered through his experience and it actually provides the sort of buffer I needed to approach such horrific subject matter.  Secondly, very little of the book is about the psychopath at all.  He makes a few appearances, but is really a fairly marginal character.  Had the book been told from the mother's point of view (a 26 year old girl, kidnapped from a college campus and held captive since the age 19), I would never have picked it up.  I needed the filter.


From the moment the book began I was fascinated, not so much by the circumstances, but by the parenting story involved.  This mother finds a way to create as secure a world as possible for her little boy under impossible circumstances.  The boy is remarkably well attended to and thoroughly loved by his poor mother.  The routines she creates for him provide a steadiness and predictability that he cherishes.  Because they are alone together during the day, they have an abundance of the "quality" time children need most to thrive.  She talks to him and plays with him all through the days and even though he's quite young, she's basically homeschooling him.  She's taught him to read and write.  Even though they only have a few books, she tells him every story she can remember from books she's read.  She teaches him all the songs she knows and they sing together often.  Even though they have a television, she allows only two shows a day and spends the rest of the time actively playing with him.  It's an interesting story of a parenting relationship where there's literally very little to distract the mother from parenting her child.  The circumstances are horrific, but the close relationship they create is wonderful.  The mother is human though and the reader sees her various breakdowns from the terrible pressure she is under.  How she protects her child though, is an amazing story.  She has to make due with the barest of minimums, but she does.


Oddly enough, one of the things other readers have found "disturbing" about the book is that the mother is still breastfeeding her boy, even though he has just turned five.  This reaction really surprised me.  It struck me as such an obvious thing that the mother would maintain this comforting/nourishing ritual for the boy who has so little.  It didn't strike me as anything that the mother intended to continue indefinitely, but having weaned a two year old, I can't imagine how hard it would be to do it with this child.  In a world where the mother literally doesn't know if her child will ever see the light of day or even live to see another year, why on earth would she take from him this source of comfort and security?  The breastfeeding to me was symbolic of the relationship between this mother and child.  She was his entire world because there was no other world available and he thrived despite his awful circumstances because she was nourishing his mind, his body and his soul.


I also admire the author for taking on such a daunting task.  To write a story as disturbing as this one from the perspective of a five year old, even an extremely precocious five year old, had to be challenging and it's  not something I've seen before.  It definitely plays with the concept of perspective in new and interesting ways.  I definitely recommend this book and will look for others by this author.

Book Review: Mudbound

I finished Mudbound by Hillary Jordan last week, but am only now organizing my thoughts about it enough to write a review.  The problem:  I'm conflicted about this book.  I really thought I'd like it and there were definitely aspects of it I enjoyed a lot, but overall it's not a book I'd ever re-read and it's not one I'd probably recommend to friends.


On the cover, Barbara Kingsolver calls it "storytelling at the height of its powers," and perhaps that should have been my first clue.  I loved Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, but have found her other novels to be very hit and miss.


Mudbound does have an interesting plot.  I was drawn in by the storyline of the main character, Laura, but not the character herself, who remains almost annoyingly static.  I guess I wanted her character to show more depth, demonstrate on even the smallest level that the circumstances she found herself faced with had caused some level of growth or change.


Not only that, the character of Laura is nearly the only one I didn't find to be basically a stock character.  Her husband, Henry, is a typical southern farmer; her father in law Pappy is nothing more than a stereotyped KKK racist; Florence, her black maid is a stereotypical strong, black, maternal figure -- in touch with nature and superstitious; and I could go on.  I did like the characters of Ronsel and Jamie, though I think their friendship could have been developed in far greater detail.  I particularly liked Ronsel's experiences in Germany during WWII.  His descriptions of seeing the emaciated and dying prisoners in the concentration camps reminded me of stories I've heard from older veterans.


The novel is told from the perspective of several characters, each getting a section to narrate in 1st person. I like that effect for some of the characters (Ronsel in particular), but for most I kept hoping it would give me more of a sense of the individual character and that just didn't really happen.   I will say this for the book -- I finished it.  And in its own way, that says something for it.  These days, my time is so tight, that I'll just put down a book that doesn't hold my attention well.  Mudbound was a mixed bag.  The plot was interesting and I kept reading till the end, but I was frustrated along the way and wanted more than just a driving plot.


On a funny note, it probably also says something that I kept calling the book "Mudblood" (the magical world's most racist comment in the Harry Potter series).  In the long run, J.K. Rowling's wizarding insult will likely stick with me longer than this novel.

Book Review: The Art of Racing in the Rain

Just finished The Art of Racing in the Rain last night, and considering all I have on my plate at the moment, the fact that I couldn't put it down all week (I actually sacrificed sleep in order to read it) ought to say something!  Loved, loved, loved this book!  Order a copy -- seriously.  Whoever you are, this book will appeal to you.  I'm not a huge race car driving fan and although I adore my two pups, dogs aren't exactly a major preoccupation for me... and yet, this book captured me from the first page.

It's a tale told by a dog, signifying everything!  Loveable Enzo (the dog) has observed life from his lowly station and has a remarkable number of insights into how and why we behave as we do.  Using race car driving as an extended metaphor, Enzo points out how the vagaries of speed, conditions and foresight help or hinder us and how patience and focus help us through even the hardest twists and turns of fate.  I really enjoyed this book and hated to see it come to an end... It's been awhile since I've experienced that.

The premise is simple, Enzo believes that dogs who are "ready," those who have the ability to understand and appreciate nuance and philosophy, can be reincarnated into humans.  He strives to learn and grow through first hand observations of the humans that surround him and a cable TV addiction that expands his horizons beyond hearth and home.  I don't want to give too much away, but early on we find out that "Enzo the dog" knows things his master, Denny, does not.  It frustrates him that, without the ability to speak, he can't warn Denny and give him the information and advice that might prevent catastrophe.  I won't go far into the plot because I really don't want to make this into a spoiler, but know that the story itself will break your heart.  Framing things through Enzo's eyes provides a marvelously unique perspective.  The situations and details were very well-drawn and I found myself feeling very connected to the main character.  His determination to fight for his rights in the face of extremely tragic circumstances was inspiring and I'm not usually big on "inspiring."

When I fed my own dogs (Curly & Spicy) this morning, I couldn't help wondering what they were thinking J.  I can pretty much guarantee that after reading this novel, you'll never look at your own pups in quite the same way either.

This would make a fantastic book club pick -- sheesh, I miss my old book club!  Below is a clip of the author describing how he got the idea for the novel:  definitely worth a look!

Bryson for my Birthday!

My 43rd Birthday came and went this week and it was rather a subdued affair in and of itself.  Just a regular day homeschooling the girls, cleaning house and working on my Nanowrimo noveling project.  I did have a Shakespeare Festival Board Meeting in the evening, so I wasn't a hermit the whole day and I was cheered at regular intervals during the day by numerous Facebook well wishers and that made the day sweet too.  Of course, I did have to start the day by pumping my septic tank (yes, a truly crappy way to start a birthday), so the day had to get better from there.  I do harken back to my 20s though, when birthdays meant travel and revelry with friends.  This year ended up with more Ravelry than revelry though because, despite being bogged down in tons of Christmas knitting, by the end of the day, I'd decided I could at least commemorate another year with a birthday sock.

My favorite colors are the colors outside my window right now:  fall in all its glorious green, orange, red, brown and purple glory.  I somehow lost the tag from this gorgeous ball of sock yarn, having set out to knit these eons ago.  Things got in the way, so although I'd prepared the skein in a ball, the knitting never happened and origins of this beauty are lost forever.  Still, this little colorway was calling to me when I went through my sock yarn stash in search of the perfect yarn to knit a pattern called "Embossed Leaves" by Mona Schmidt.  The Ravelry pattern is here and I've included a picture of the finished product from her book below.  This will give you at least a vague notion of what the project will eventually look like.

If I could only ever knit one type of project, socks would definitely be my choice.  They're cozy, extremely portable and utilitarian to boot.  They can be lovely and delicate or hardy and protective.  What's not to like?

So, the birthday ended up being a pretty big yawn, but socks got on the needles and noveling was accomplished.  The big highlight of the day though was that Bill Bryson's new book Seeing Further:  The Story of Science, Discovery and the Genius of the Royal Society was released that day.  Sure, Mr. Bryson likely didn't intend the his publication date of Nov. 2nd as any sort of tribute to me, but it thrilled me nonetheless.  I could never be accused of being any sort of rock band groupie, but if authors could have groupies (do they?) I'd have Bill Bryson at the top of my list.  I've even begun planning his next writing project, as detailed in this previous post.  Could that be considered literary stalking?

Bill Bryson can take the driest, most moldering bit of old trivia and make it astonishingly interesting and exciting, so even though a book about the Royal Society may not be in your top ten list of topics to learn more about, rely on good old Bill to make it worth your while.  If you haven't read A Short History of Nearly Everything you must run, (yes, RUN, don't walk) to your nearest book store or library to do so.  Go on, I'll wait.....   Back?  Trust me it was worth the trip; he's that good.  You'll find yourself fascinated by the very science and history that used to put you to sleep in your general ed classes.  His scientific and historical inquiries of late are a change of pace from his original travel writings, though I adore those too (especially In a Sunburned Country, I'm A Stranger Here Myself and Neither Here Nor There).  But, he can bring his charm to any topic, even his own house.  If you never thought you could read over 500 pages about somebody's house, take a look at his other recent release here.  If you just want to laugh yourself silly, spend an evening with A Walk in the Woods, but I'll warn you (and I'm serious here) go to the bathroom first.

Bryson's versatility awes me.  He's as good with fiction as he is with Shakespeare.  And at this point, if you're wondering... NO I haven't been hired by his publicist to write this post.  I just really, really like his stuff.  So, having Seeing Further to hunker down with on my birthday was fabulous (yes, I'd preordered it from Amazon so that it would arrive on my door the day of publication, just like a crazed Harry Potter addict).  So, give me some time -- it's quite the tome -- and I'll be back with an official review.