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I already knew about Constance McMillen — the girl whose school decided to cancel the prom rather than let her show up in her tux with her girlfriend — but there’s tons of teenagers to be proud of in Gary Lapon’s article, Why can’t Constance leave her date?
I’m watching a CNN interview Lapon linked with a 10-year-old who wouldn’t say the pledge of allegiance (since gay people don’t have liberty and justice for all) and his dad and it is so awesome. I want to give that kid such a big hug. And his dad!
Filed under: Schools teachers and parents oh my, The Literary is Political
Those whose work was in the acute wards at the medical center knew at a glance what it meant. This was a man undergoing surgery without anesthetic — the slow, sawtoothed severing of himself from another human being somewhere inside the hospital.
– Richard K. Morgan, THIRTEEN
And since I’ve been so scandalously absent from blogging, here are two small bonus Wednesday Wordses that made me giggle. From the next page of THIRTEEN:
It’s Falwell. Nothing short of death stops that motherfucker.
(referring to an infectious disease spread by weapon, a very appropriate object for the Falwell signifier, I feel.) And:
It’s a metaphor for bad writing!
– My friend Aly during LOST last night. It was when we were enjoying the subtle shades of meaning behind Ben Linus digging his own grave. Don’t you like how they always include inconspicuous symbolism for the really sophisticated viewers to pick up?
Filed under: Page and Screen, Wednesday Words
I was going to post this on my Facebook wall… but two of my friends did it for me. Why does everyone know me so well? (Oh, right, the fact that my current Facebook profile pic is a Brian Krakow headshot may have something to do with it.)
The Guardian tried to fill in the blanks between then and now.
I, meanwhile, am 27 today. And (at last!!!!) defending my Master’s thesis tomorrow. The latter being one reason for my extended absence from the blog, despite the immense joy, and pain, and longing that accompanied my discovery of GRACELING and THE HUNGER GAMES within weeks of each other.
If I survive tomorrow, my many opinions about them may follow… let’s hope!
Filed under: Shades of My So-Called Life
What I think is interesting in this case of censoring school board mistaken identity is that at least this particular article seems to think it’s natural that, if the same Bill Martin who wrote BROWN BEAR… had also written a book for adults called ETHICAL MARXISM, then it would be just fine to keep his well-loved (I haven’t read it) kids’ book out of the curriculum.
Whereas historically, as we now know from Julia Mickenberg, during McCarthyism, children’s publishing (because it was so trivialized) was one of the few places that blacklisted authors could still find work. Which is one reason why it became a relatively progressive industry, with, for example, books about racism and slavery — albeit ones that might strike us as dated or inadequate now — in the early ’60s, while the Civil Rights Movement was still in a pretty early stage of its spread North.
When I say relatively progressive, of course, we know to take that with a grain of salt. (By the way, a post by Editorial Anonymous — which makes a great second point about how having ignorantly non-racist intentions does not constitute a Get Out of Accusations of Racism Free card — is sparking an interesting discussion about the obligations of authors, and when pragmatic professionalism becomes opportunist careerism.)
But back to that Dallas News article… the other thing I find hilarious about it is that the author mentions that one of the school board members orchestrating the censorship of BROWN BEAR… is just plain mad that there are so many books being approved for the curriculum. This is mentioned almost as though it partially excuses his idiocy — see, it wasn’t about this book; he doesn’t want teachers to be able to choose any book for their classrooms!
Posted in Censorship, Race and Racism
… at least, that’s what I felt when I finally read LOCK & KEY yesterday. I seriously wondered whether parts of the book were planned as replies to the criticisms (not made only here!) that everyone is white… in North Carolina or that mysteriously perfect boyfriends solve the girls’ problems while the girls often seem to have relatively little to offer.
Of course, if that is what Dessen’s doing, it was a funny strategy to reply to the criticism that not everyone in the world is a small business owner by having a central character this time around be a very large business owner.
(She also has a bazillion small cameos by her past characters, which I enjoyed until there were so many of them that I started to feel I was reading a fan-fiction.)
Seriously, I liked LOCK & KEY. It has many of the defining trademarks of the Dessen genre: metaphors without subtlety and chapter-ending platitudes, which I don’t mean in the insulting way it sounds, because I usually enjoy them very much; side characters who tend toward one-note demonstrations of a personality type we’re meant to learn from, and that one I do mean to be insulting because it annoys me; a girl whose sense of self is defined by her relationship with her mother and sister.
I liked that, once you could see by page 10 what the main character’s transformation was going to be, Dessen actually got the most obvious parts of it over early; she pulled off an ending that managed to complete the protagonist’s journey without every page in between feeling like we were treading water until a magical triumph — what The Intern calls a T-Bomb.
However. As we’ve discussed, while I can enjoy different aspects of a Dessen novel, there is one reason and one reason only that I continue to read them all, and reread several of them. Frequently.
That reason is really well-done scenes of high school romantic fantasy, and here? I wasn’t quite feeling it. It’s not that the male lead wasn’t a real catch, because in real life? Such a catch. It’s that there were maybe three scenes where the two’s relationship suddenly escalates and the excitement of reading is how strongly you can identify with the protagonist’s joy and hope and fear. Three such scenes in a book of over 400 pages.
This is why I read romance, people. It’s why I read Dessen. She is very talented in many, many ways, but great range is not among them. If I read something by Laurie Halse Anderson, it’s probably not going to be like anything else I’ve read by her; M.T. Anderson, even more so. Other writers, like Sarah Dessen and John Green, have defined a genre. They’re genres I enjoy, which is why I read everything they write. I think Dessen wrote a very good book in LOCK & KEY, but I don’t think she upheld her end of the genre bargain I’d thought we’d made. And that made me a little disappointed.
Posted in Dessen, Sarah, Lock and Key, On Genre
We at Underage Reading have sometimes expressed our consternation at the trendy headless girls (or partially headless girls) YA cover art. Now, Editorial Anonymous finally uncovers a method to the madness.
Posted in Judging by the Cover
I find it fitting that Scalia would hate something so obviously right and just.
Posted in Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The, Lockhart, E., Words
I don’t so much buy presents… except for the kids in my life. Once they’re seven or eight, I have no problems: so many books I know and love already, and of course I welcome any excuse to find more great ones. Best of all is when the child’s tastes run to slightly different genres than I usually read, so I’m forced to read up… I first read China Mieville’s UN LUN DUN and Nancy Farmer’s THE EAR, THE EYE AND THE ARM when testing them for my cousin Alex. (Both passed.)
But when it comes to littler kids, I’m at a loss. I don’t really know what’s age-appropriate, and I don’t know what’s so famous that they’re likely to have it already. Luckily, I now have a blog. And with a blog comes links. My savior this year? 100 Scope Notes’s Best New Books category. Holiday success.
The most gratifying gift-giving moment was undoubtedly due to my cousin Luke’s — Luke of Mean Elizabeth fame — preschool apparently having taught him appropriate responses to receiving a present. As soon as he ripped the paper off of JEREMY DRAWS A MONSTER, he yelled, “It’s JUST what I ALWAYS WANTED!”
As opposed to my niece Sylvia of the same age, whose perpetual response ran more to looking hopeful and asking, “Are there any more presents for me?”
Sylvia also took the time to read several of her favorite books to me. Since she doesn’t read in the traditional sense, this involves her telling me a story based on the pictures and what she remembers from past readings. In her telling, a common feature of stories seems to be their emphasis on YELLED NARRATION.
My other interaction with small children this holiday season was when Emily and I went sledding in Prospect Park. (I’ve recently learned to sled and have now become a sledding fiend. I wanted to take Sylvia out yesterday but the snow had dissipated.) We took it upon ourselves to teach them some valuable lessons about the importance of moving off the hill once your turn is done, lest two shrieking women lying on top of one another in an inflatable bialy run you down. I’m not sure whether all their parents were as grateful as they should have been for our didactic efforts.
Posted in Mieville, China, This--like so many things--is all about me, Un Lun Dun
And yet, in certain ways, the Institute did remind them of other schools: Rote memorization of lessons was discouraged but required; class participation was encouraged but rarely permitted; and although quizzes were given every day, in every class, there was always at least one student who groaned, another who acted surprised, and another who begged the teacher, in vain, not to give it.
– Trenton Lee Stewart, THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY
Posted in Mysterious Benedict Society, The, Schools teachers and parents oh my, Stewart, Trenton Lee, Wednesday Words
How old do you think this kid is???
I love the way he nods his head. And when he pauses and looks like he’s going to pick his nose, but he’s just scratching his face.
I feel like the stereotype of adults reading kids’ books is that they are somehow debasing themselves, but let’s face it: I will never, at any age, be as cool as this kid.
Oh, and yes, that is a ukulele he’s playing. I’d like to hook him up with Stephin Merritt, but it’s possible the world would explode.
Posted in Page and Screen
My roommate moved out today, taking Cooper on a long road trip back to Portland.
Sure, this is great for her life goals of finishing her degree and getting a job she likes and being near her family. But WTF, that’s my step-dog!
Who will chew the tassels off my slippers and sneak up behind me on the couch to remove the scrunchies from my ponytail, with his teeth?
Who will make off with any paper towel or Kleenex left anywhere in the vicinity? (Have I ever mentioned Cooper’s paper products fetish?) Who will leave meat unmolested on the counter, but leap up anytime there’s a shot at the butter?
Who will wriggle his butt while he backs away when I come home, chew-toy in mouth and looking for all the world like a haughty horse so that while I chase him down for tug-of-war I’m forced to inform him that he’s not as special as he thinks he is, are you, My Little Pony?
Who will put his paws on my arms as I rub his belly first thing every morning, reminding me yet again that, in fact, he is the alpha and I exist to do his bidding?
(My sad attempts at being an alpha dog worked about as well as Cooper’s efforts at chasing his tail… occasional success breeding overexcitement and subsequent flailing back into failure. I tried resigning myself to being the beta dog, but my roommate told me sadly that I’m more of a gamma.)
Luckily, to temper my pain, I have a very nice new roommate moving in. And she doesn’t come alone.
Everyone? This is Arthur.
Posted in Life with step-dog/step-cat
My grandma was in fine form this Thanksgiving.
My dad has a new mustache, and as soon as she saw him, she said, “Now, X*, do you want to look older or younger?”
My dad, who is 62, considered all the various sarcastic responses he might make, but eventually settled on the straightforward answer that he’d like to look younger. To which she immediately responded, “Well, I think your mustache makes you look ten years older!”
Oh, Grandma.
(She didn’t drop it all weekend, either.)
I shouldn’t laugh too hard — although, let me tell you, I did — because I am so unbelievably tactless myself. Like, when I met my boyfriend — who needs a Blog Name, by the way — he hated most vegetables, including delicious ones like spinach, because he grew up eating them boiled to shit. And so what do I do when we’re eating spinach one time with his lovely mother? I very innocently explain how I had to convince him to eat spinach, since he grew up eating it prepared in the most terrible ways!
Seriously, folks. It never crossed my mind that the person I was speaking to was the one who did that terrible preparing.
His mother was really amazingly nice about the whole thing.
* I’m leaving my dad’s name out of it because his first name is extremely unusual and should someone ever google him just with that — which would definitely work for finding him — I don’t think he’d want them turning up this story!
Posted in This--like so many things--is all about me
One of the high points of this Thanksgiving has been getting to see my oldest cousin’s children more. Nico, 6, and Luke, 3, are super cute. And Nico loves me. Luke? Well… he wasn’t so sure.
On Wednesday night he waddled up to me and said, “There’s a mean Elizabeth in my class.” Then he stared at me accusingly for a moment before picking up his dump truck and pushing it around, muttering, “Mean Elizabeth.”
Thanksgiving Day when I passed him in the hallway he said plaintively, “Why are there so many Elizabeths?”
I think I was eventually able to win him over with my willingness to pretend we were in a space boat, but man. What could this Elizabeth actually have done to him???
Posted in This--like so many things--is all about me
Excerpts from IraqiGirl: Diary of a Teenage Girl in Iraq. That’s the book I edited, y’all.
Posted in IraqiGirl: Diary of a Teenage Girl in Iraq
But while I’m castigating myself, here’s one thing I did write recently: a letter (stemming from a loooong debate about animal rights) about the disability rights movement in the U.S. This history is awesome, yo.
Posted in Uncategorized
I’d love to credit the photographers, but I only got these in an email forward from Michael Schwartz, abusing his own excellent Iraq analysis listserv.
Click for full sizes.
