Little Brother

Doctorow, C. (2008). Little Brother. New York, NY: Tom Doherty Associates.

I found this novel to be a wonderfully subversive work that is not only greatly entertaining but at times even enlightening. The character of Marcus, the protagonist, is highly developed and nuanced and drives the story. And the tale, largely the story of Marcus, is eminently credible. It could easily happen and in many ways it has already happened. Some people just don’t realize it or appear to care.

It is refreshing to find a work with well-crafted characters that authentically portrays young people in the world today, and the pressures they face in their daily lives – the trials and the triumphs. It is equally refreshing to discover a work for young people that tackles the fundamental question of security and safety in the current political climate. I suspect that many people, including Americans themselves, do not realize just how much power the Department of Homeland Security exercises. (The legislation that created the agency allows the DHS to incarcerate anyone without first showing cause. In other words, the legislation, enacted in the aftermath of the attack on the World Trade Center, suspends habeas corpus, a key cornerstone of the judiciary specifically and democracy, in general. To put it in perspective, during the American Civil War Abraham Lincoln and his cabinet debated long and hard before reluctantly adopting the same measure. But few people debated the legislation that created the DHS in the uncertain, and somewhat paranoid period that followed the tragic attack. New York intellectual and writer Susan Sontag, one of the few to publicly oppose the legislation, saw her career virtually flame out overnight as a result. It never recovered either.)

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the novel. It is entertaining, poignant at times, provocative and subversive, in the twisted sense that it embraces the notion, to paraphrase Benjamin Franklin, that a people willing to give up their rights for a modicum of personal safety deserve neither.

The Empire of Illusion

Last week Paul Kennedy interviewed long-time former New York Times journalist Chris Hedges about his new book The Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle. It is quite fascinating, particularly in terms of what he defines as corporate totalitarianism and the pervading power of image. Here’s the link.  http://www.cbc.ca/ideas/episodes/2011/11/30/empire-of-illusion/

It’s Kind of a Funny Story

Vizzini, N. (2006). It’s Kind of a Funny Story. New York, NY: Hyperion Paperbacks.

 This novel is not that funny of a story (although I do like ironic titles). But for a book about depression, a serious illness that afflicts many teenagers, it is not that depressing. At times it is even strangely compelling. The character of Craig Gilmer is authentic and possesses a plausible voice. In another sense, the character also serves as a metaphor for the inherent risks people face when they strive to succeed at all costs, without pausing to consider that the cost might outweigh the prize at the end of the road.

While I read this novel, I found my mind occasionally straying to other novels and characters. It evokes One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – I believe this is even alluded to in the story if my memory serves me well – and Catcher in the Rye, of course. It’s apparent the protagonist certainly reflects certain traits of Holden Caulfield, the voice being the most obvious at times. That’s not much of an issue, although it did slightly affect my reading experience.

The other element of the story that I found to be a stretch is the denouement. I’m not sure if I buy it completely. I realize the author spent five days in adult psychiatric care earlier in his life. and this infuses the work with a level of authenticity and lends credibility to the veracity of the psychiatric ward setting. But the resolution of the problem just seems a little too easy, a little too pat, for my taste. I just need to see a tiny beam of light shining, not the glaring light of a full sun. In this case, I believe less is more.

In summary, I found he reading experience fairly enjoyable. But I also felt that I had read the story more than once before and the denouement, at least for me, did not ring true.

The Religion

Willocks, Tim. The Religion. New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, c2006.

Don’t let the title fool you. The Religion is a dazzling epic tale of rampant violence on a monumental scale, political skullduggery and sultry romance set against the spectacular backdrop of the 1565 Turkish invasion of Malta, one of the most savage conflicts in history waged in the name of religion. And Mattias Tannhauser, former Janissary, arms and opium dealer and Saxon adventurer, plunges into the thick of the assault when Carla La Penautier, an alluring French aristocrat, begs him to find and rescue the teenage son her father forced her to abandon at birth. When Mattias and Carla disembark at Malta, he reluctantly agrees to serve as a military adviser to the besieged Knights of Saint John the Baptist, more commonly known as The Religion, and begins to search for the boy amidst the chaos of a horrific and bloody war and the machinations of a mysterious inquisitor and devout monk named Ludovicon who seeks to sabotage him and Carla. In The Religion, the author spins a thrilling, lush yarn that features a gripping plot and adroit dialogue and weaves the unbridled violence of the siege with a complex cast of heroic but flawed characters. This is the first historical novel by Willocks – the acclaimed writer of Green River Rising and Bloodstained Kings – and it is one of the best historical adventures of the year. But fortunately, for older young adult readers, it will not be his last. The Religion is the first work of a trilogy and Mattias Tannhauser will return in the future. Highly recommended. Peter Critchley, University of Western Ontario.

Worth a thousand words…at least

 

It’s a cliche but cliche’s are true. That’s how they become cliches in the first place. And in this case, particularly in terms of nonfiction, a picture is worth at least a thousand words, if not many thousands more. (In terms of production values alone, a photograph or illustration can be critical in drawing the eye to a page, providing additional information and detail and breaking up the lines of the gray type to create a much more appealing page. A page that can breathe. Unfortunately, more than a few narrative nonfiction works I’ve read group the photographs together, often in adjoining signatures in the work in order to keep press costs down.)

The power of pictures is undeniable. It can and has changed the world. (The Viet Nam War is just one of many examples that springs to mind. Nothing probably did more to sway public opinion in the United States, and erode support for the conflict, than the graphic footage of wounded young men on stretchers, or in black bags, broadcast on the news virtually every night in the living room of the nation.)

I certainly agree with Peter Kindersley’s explanation of the new approach to the use of visual content cited in the Michael Cart article. He states that “through the picture I see reality and through the word I understand it.” But I also believe that people are capable of both seeing reality in a picture or photograph and understanding it, sometimes to a far greater degree that text can ever provide, particularly as it applies to photojournalism.

What surprises me about this article is that the the discussion of the importance of visual content in nonfiction appears to just occurred a few scant years ago. Newspapers have done it since shortly after the advent of the invention of photography. And Life magazine is probably the most perfect example of all. It revolutionized the art of the photo essay during the Depression and the Second World War more than six decades ago.

Forever…sometimes in more ways than one.

 

Blume, J. (1975). Forever. New York, NY: Bradbury Press.

 Forever is certainly a book of its time. And I can certainly see the appeal almost four decades ago for middle class teenage girls…and for boys for that matter if they had any idea such a book even existed at that time. They probably didn’t have the first clue or many of them would have read it just for the sex alone. In retrospect, it could also have served as a guide to the mind of a female teenager, a realm as mysterious as the ocean for teenage boys. But most boys would have read it just for the fairly graphic sex scenes – at the time simply unheard of in YA novels and not that common in mainstream novels for adults, for that matter. At the time it probably did live up to the billing of the publisher that it “promises to be a revelation” and I can understand the place it holds in the YA can    on despite the almost pedestrian tone and dialogue at times.

Ironically, the book jacket of the copy I obtained from the London Public Library (the only one of the primary readings I could get my hands on) states this is Blume’s first book for adults. This copy, and it appears to be the original 1975 edition, also shades the story. The book jacket further states that Blume’s work is a “blithe and telling novel about men and women loving”. There is not any indication at all from the cover, book jacket or publisher annotation that the work is or young adults. This probably reflects the times and the understandable hesitance of a publisher at that time to openly promote a novel with such honest and authentic sex scenes for a YA audience. But there is no he day.question in my mind the novel is aimed directly at a YA audience, even almost four decades later. The protagonist Katherine is a seventeen-year-old girl for much of the book, the setting of the work is typical of YA work and the story focuses on the sexual awakening and emotional growth of the protagonist.

In terms of plot and style, it is a tough read at times. It seems to go on forever. The dialogue is sometimes used for exposition or simply as device to advance a scene. Fair enough. But it does lag at times. On the other hand, the point of view of the protagonist, particularly the internal monologues, add another dimension and help develop her character. In the end, she is transformed. It is not difficult by any means to see the reason it caused such a stir at the time for the reading audience of young adult females – it addresses issues and questions of pressing importance to young people that simply did not exist in the conversation of the day. Adults seldom ever discussed sex in such a straightforward, frank way with their children, if they even discussed it all.

Multiple literacies and graffiti – decoding post-modern art

 I found Dr. Rothbauer’s comments about graffiti, in relation to the theme of multiple literacies, quite intriguing. Occasionally, over the last couple of months I’ve photographed a few of the works – and they are artistic works in their own right – and a specific and sophisticated kind of literacy certainly appears necessary to decode the language. I barely have the first clue about what any of them may mean. A good example is the photograph of the piece I’ve downloaded. This is on the brick wall of my apartment facing the alley and it is representative of some of the most striking and thought-provoking work that can be found throughout downtown London. It’s like walking through an outdoor post-modern art gallery.

What the piece I’ve downloaded even says, in terms of language, is tough to fathom. I don’t even know if some of the shapes are even letters. But I’m fairly sure someone conversant in this language could easily explain it. I just photograph the pieces that initially catch my eye and keep it tracking for a minute or two. For me that’s enough although I’m starting to see them in a little different light.