The people of Oelwein still talk about the day Roland Jarvis blew himself up; although, technically, he was involved in an implosion. No one was surprised, mind you. In a town known for its “century old” railroad roundhouse and abundance of “meth labs,” he cooked a product of fine quality that many of his fellow Iowans craved.
Jarvis, well known amongst the authorities in Oelwein, pronounced OL-wine, spent two separate stints incarcerated for the production and distribution of methamphetamine. In both instances, he immediately went back into business following his first day free. His crave was too much.
It started when he was 16 and needed to work double shifts to support his growing family. By taking a little meth, he could stay up for hours and bring home a nice paycheck. Unfortunately, his meat-packing company was bought-out and Jarvis suffered a huge pay cut. This forced him into working more double shifts and needing even more meth.
By the winter of 2001, Jarvis was in no shape to be cooking. He could see the disembodied heads in the trees over looking his house and knew they were spying on him. With nods to the black helicopter overhead, the heads signaled to the cops he was indeed cooking. He ran down to the basement and began to throw all of his ingredients into the overflow drain.
He started dumping these items first: anhydrous ammonia followed by Coleman lantern fluid, denatured alcohol, and kerosene which made an awful stink. His last effort consisted of two gallons of hydrochloric acid for which he sat back and enjoy a cigarette.
The following vacuum sucked out the windows before igniting the boxes in the corner of the room. The air, created by the new gaping holes in the windows, fueled the flames and Jarvis watched as the joists began to flicker bright blue. He looked down and noticed his white tube socks were no longer anchoring his feet and his Vikings tank top was on fire.
He rushed up the stairs and out onto the porch for safety, but then the meth-induced thoughts began to nag. He wanted to save his mother’s furniture and spent 45 minutes in and out of the house until he looked down at his skin and noticed white eggs. He began to knock the eggs off his arms, his legs and his torso, but in reality he was sloughing off his melted skin.
This true horror story is one of many in Nick Reding’s new book, Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Methland (copy)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The Sanctuary of Outcasts (copy)
South of Baton Rouge sat an obscure little plantation called Indian Camp. Robert Camp ran a highly successful sugar plantation until the Civil War took all his fortunes and left the home and acreage back to the wild. The land was so isolated by the Mississippi River the only inhabitants maintained they had to fight for fishing rights with the mosquitoes who staked their claim in blood.
In 1894 the State of Louisiana took ownership of the property and designated it the Louisiana Leper Home. All Louisiana inhabitants that were diagnosed with the disease were sent to live the rest of their lives in the colony.
“The geography was perfect for outcasts. The plantation was virtually impossible to reach by land: a washed-out road with no outlet, leading to a tiny drop of land that looked like gravity had pulled it into the river’s path. It was known primarily to boat captains who navigated the sharp 180-degree turn in the Mississippi River just south of Baton Rouge.”
At first the residents had to fight with bats and snakes to live within the dilapidated house and slave quarters. They dealt daily with no running water and the very basic in sanitation as they waited for improvements from the state. A doctor from Tulane took notice and requested an order of nuns who arrived in 1896.
By 1914, the site was designated a national leprosarium and President Woodrow Wilson assigned $250,000 for the “care and treatment of people affected with leprosy.”
Today the facility is called Carville and it still houses those unfortunate enough to have contracted Hansen’s disease. On a positive note, the residents are dwindling in number since the disease is lessening and approximately 130 patients now walk the halls.
Because the facility had more beds than occupants, in 1990 the Bureau of Prisons decided to transfer federal inmates to the Federal Medical Center in Carville. On May 3, 1993, Neil White became the newest inmate.
Upon arrival, an inmate cornered him and told him he would be living with lepers now. Oh, and since he was a convict that makes him a lepercon!
Do pick up this fascinating book by Oxford resident Neil White titled In the Sanctuary of Outcasts.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Eat, Drink, and Be from Mississippi (copy)
Brother and sister growing up in Mississippi is only part of the story associated with Nanci Kincaid’s latest book titled Eat, Drink, and Be from Mississippi. The book explores how racism not only occurs in the South – like we cornered the market on the ugliness – but it happens just as easily in a state as liberal and progressive as California.
Truely and Courtney Noonan are products of a southern conservative home outside the city limits of Jackson in Hines County. They grow up in the nineties with little controversy. True is doing his part as a lineman on the high school football team to impress Truely, Sr. and make him proud. Courtney is attending Millsaps with a full scholarship, but things are about to change dramatically for both siblings.
It begins when Courtney asks her roommate to drive her home from college mid-semester. Courtney has the crazy idea to blow off the slow life of Jackson and move to the ever-sunny San Jose, California, to attend the university. True is concerned his sister is disrespecting their parents and making a mistake. This causes a slight ripple in the otherwise smooth relationship between brother and sister, but all is made well again by Truely, Sr. allowing Courtney to leave.
Soon Courtney settles into classes and meets Hastings Littleton, a successful realtor who has a passion for southern cooking. Before readers have a clue, 21-year-old Courtney is shacking up with 31-year-old Hastings. The moral decline California is known for has gotten a hold of Courtney and the parents hang their heads in shame.
After spending a Christmas at the Littleton household, Courtney having succumbed to parental pressure and married, True is now bitten by the westward bug and enrolls at San Jose State himself. As this unbelievable story unfolds, we see Truely marrying Jesse and becoming a programming millionaire joining the ranks of his real estate millionaire sister.
This book is so soap-opry; I still have suds behind my ears. The protagonist, Arnold, appears after page 140, and I am surprised by my patience in reading. It is the relationship between the street thug, Arnold, and the siblings that awakens the sleeping racism within this trifling trichotomy.
Nanci Kincaid has written a readable book; although, it is not my cup of tea. Admittedly, I found it hard to swallow.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
The Air between Us (copy)
Like most readers, I have a stack of books ready for reading in my home. This allows me a chance to read something for which my mood dictates. I go for the book on top, but then shuffle if it does not grab my attention. Sometimes a book finds itself on the bottom and I end up taking it back to the library.
One such book, The Air between Us by Deborah Johnson, has been in the pile numerous times. Not only have I renewed then returned two separate copies – a new hardback and also the paperback – but I went out and purchased a copy for the pile. This was a book I wanted to read; furthermore, I needed to read.
Set in the fictional 1960’s town of Revere, Mississippi, Critter Tate is having trouble. He is having trouble steering his father’s pick-up truck and stepping on the pedals at the same time. So far he has managed to drive 30 miles into town without a wreck, but the town curbs are giving him a time. With a little extra gas he launches over the curb at Doctors Hospital and comes to an abrupt stop at the black only entrance.
All of 10-years-old, Critter thinks he has done right, but the trouble continues. His passenger, Billy Ray Puckett, lays strewn across the seat with blood oozing from his white self. Critter’s dad is gonna be mad when he sees all the blood. Then the attendants flat out refuse to allow Billy Ray in the black only entrance.
It didn’t look good for Billy Ray as Critter notices his blood turning dark. Critter has seen death enough times to recognize the signs. Back in the truck, he hauls it around to the other side of Doctors and sits paralyzed at the door. Seeing no one through the screen, Critter cringes as he knows he faces a sure whipping if he goes through the white only entrance.
Billy Ray lets out a moan that sets Critter through the door and to the first nurse he can find. None-too-happy the nurse scowls down at him as he burst out, “I told him he was doing it all wrong!” Billy Ray had fallen out of his rickety deer stand and gone and shot himself.
The Air between Us is well worth the read. Deborah Johnson, currently living in Columbus, displays a mastery of storytelling in her first novel. What I thought would be a depressing story blooms into a funny, quirky mystery that holds a reader’s attention for hours. The characters are so alive the story might be set in Anywhere, Mississippi.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Library Card Sign-Up (copy)
The beginning of the school year is one of my favorite times. Amongst all the new student confusion – where do I go for this, what do I need for that – appears the readers for the year. Without help from the staff, they search the online catalog and begin to read book spines to find a certain book. The reader then strolls confidently to the circulation desk with a couple of fictions in hand and a shy smile on her face.
I like imagining why the little smile accompanies the patron. I pretend I am them, seeing the library for the first time, and finding that great book to read. It is common for the latest in a series or current bestsellers to sit on our shelves waiting for readers while at the public library one has to wait in line for the same books. Naturally, all books are due at the end of the semester and sit ready to read by the beginning of the next.
I like to think the students have found favorite authors that afford the library some sort of cool points. Yes, it is my pipe dream to see them smiling because they are happy with our collection.
Unfortunately, there are only a handful of students who come to the library as recreational readers. More often I stand in front of a group of students during orientation who are just realizing our college has a library. I want desperately to place a book in the hands of these students that they will enjoy. How do you make the average student fall in love with books?
This is the question facing more and more librarians in the state of Mississippi. In an article in The Commercial Appeal by Dorothy Johnson, executive director of Shelby County Books from Birth, titled “Reading is powerful fuel for child's growth” she cites facts that make me excited. One such fact I now use during orientations. “Children exposed to books and reading during preschool years enters kindergarten with a listening vocabulary of 20,000 words, versus 3,000 words for those who don't have this exposure.”
Imagine the change our great state of Mississippi would undergo if we placed books in the hands of our kids before they ever hit kindergarten. Imagine my joy if I got 20 more readers at the beginning of a semester then 20 more the following semester.
Okay citizens of Mississippi. Gather your young ones in the car and head for the nearest public library. Go, get out there and celebrate Library Card Sign-Up Month in September. We need more readers!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tattoo Machine (copy)
Not just for drunken sailors anymore, tattoos are appearing on more skin then birthmarks. What is the fascination with decorating ones’ skin? If you ran away from the doctor ready to inoculate you as a child, why sit still for multiple pricks as an adult? I get the argument that it makes one unique, but if everyone is doing it who is unique?I picked up Jeff Johnson’s new book Tattoo Machine looking for the answer. What I got was a whole lot of fun akin to sitting around a campfire listening to horror stories.
Johnson owns a century run tattoo shop in Portland, Oregon called the Sea Tramp Tattoo Company. In his many years of customer service he has seen a variety of clientele. No two people are alike but as the sticking time approaches a couple of categories begin to emerge.
The shop has its own vocabulary for these stereotypes. The person who comes armed with pain pills is a bunny. One who loses his lunch is a chudder and an appointment that greedily downs fast food before the session is a taco valve. Customers are encouraged to eat before the needling, but isn’t the taco valve looking to chudder?!?
Among the many stories Johnson relates, one made me chuckle in agreement. In his location he has the opportunity to work on many a homesick GI. State flags are popular amongst this group as a quick display of pride. One such GI asked for the Texas state flag. Johnson explained that he did not own a book of flags and the young man should visit the library for an example. The GI shook his head and said he knew the flag by heart and began to draw it on a napkin. The following week the GI stomped into the store and yelled, “I’m Texan not Portuguese!”
In Johnson’s 18 years of artistry, he has gathered some strong opinions on fellow artist. He looks down on those who call their machine a gun. He dislikes sloppy and lazy workers who draw on their customers with a pen or toothpick dipped in ink. It is accepted if one is emulating smoke or wind; otherwise, these are “Night Hogs” in his opinion and not true artist. “Direct-to-skin drawing, at its worst, is a pressure sales tactic.”
As for the psychology of decorating ones skin, the book gives no answer, but it is packed with pure unadulterated fun. I must warn you. The author is very much in the style of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain. He throws out the off-color jokes and slings the slang like no one’s business.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Your Own Sylvia (copy)
I love this book! Last night I picked up Your Own, Sylvia by Stephanie Hemphill and read through it like a runaway train. Why? What propelled me? Is it that good?
Yes! It is the biography of Sylvia Plath written in verse chronologically from birth to tragic suicide. Marketed for teenagers, it enjoys a plethora of awards including the 2008 American Library Association Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults and 2008 Michael L. Printz Honor Book.
What a great way to introduce Sylvia Plath to a whole new reading audience. In my education she was sorely missed. I lacked exposure to her poems or books during high school and college although my friends were reading The Bell Jar as a word-of-mouth choice. I guess the educators thought it best not to study a woman who wrote with suicidal tendencies, but from Your Own, Sylvia readers will realize there is more to Plath’s writing.
The poems are written as if the person in Sylvia’s life at the time is speaking. For example, the poem titled “First Publication” is written as if the editor of the Boston Herald is speaking to the reader about Sylvia’s first published poem at the age of eight. Footnotes are included for each poem that explains the history behind the event or person featured. At the bottom of “First Publication” the footnote reads, “‘Poem,’ a sweet rhyming verse about crickets and fireflies, appeared in the Sunday Boston Herald on August 11, 1941, on the ‘Good Sport Page’ of the children’s section.”
I like the fact that this book leads readers to other books. It is natural to have the desire to read The Bell Jar after one finds out the real people who populate the fictional pseudo autobiography. For example, Janet Wagner who vocalizes the poem “Stigmata” appears in The Bell Jar as the “sweet, farm-fresh Betsy from Kansas.” In real life, the two were friends while guest editors for Mademoiselle magazine.
Need more convincing? Here are the first lines of “Owning Sylvia Plath” as vocalized through a reader of her poems.
Who are you, Sylvia Plath?
A cold comet locked in place by gravity?
A glint in the cracked ceiling above my bed?
Something shimmers out of your chasm.
Your language feels like words
trapped under my tongue.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Magazines Anyone? (copy)
I picked up an old habit over the summer. I am now running two miles without stopping. Along with my new obsession comes a healthy curiosity. Do I run to the library and check out books on running to fulfill my need to know more? Well no, I take the easy approach. I subscribed to Runner’s World magazine.
Without prompting from me, two of my carpool buddies (new to the running thing) are also subscribing to the magazine. They look forward to their first month’s issue having read articles from hand-me-down copies. This example is proof others want to learn everything they can about a hobby. It is a shared human experience.
Do you have a son or daughter with a hobby such as gymnastics, football, basketball, knitting, drawing or sewing? Do they also balk at reading? Here is your chance to shine.
Subscribe to a magazine that follows a favorite hobby such as Sports Illustrated or VIBE. When the issue arrives place it in the teenager’s room and then casually walk away. Say nothing about reading it or how much it cost or “I was thinking…” merely walk away.
Reading magazines counts as reading. Who cares if the quality is questionable? It is the fact kids are reading and exposing themselves to different vocabularies and sentence structures without the pressure of test taking afterwards that has huge appeal. One can learn from fun, senseless reading, too.
I see you shaking your head at me. Your child’s hobbies are video games or talking/texting on their cell phone while in the home. Well, gamers will be thrilled with GamePro magazine. This monthly rag rates the latest games from every system and every genre. Packed with secret codes to advance players and thought provoking articles like “Versus Mode” where they pit game hero against game hero such as Inspector Tequila against Max Payne, will enthrall young readers.
Cell phone chatterers can find amusement in entertainment magazines. We at the library like to thumb through the pages of PEOPLE magazine. We look at the pictures and read the captions, but rarely do we actually read an article. Again, it may not be quality reading but it is active reading not before seen from that texting teenager. Sorry, I was unable to find a magazine for texting.
Consider magazines for those in your home who do not read. They could be the stepping stones to a reading future.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Books to Movies (copy)
There is nothing like the refreshing sensation of watching a movie in a cool dark cinema on a hot summer day. During this summer’s season, many books-to-movies have graced the screen such as Angels and Demons, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and My Sister’s Keeper. Well people, don’t put the popcorn away just yet!
August promises two bestsellers on movie screens ready to divert your attention from the heat. First is Julie & Julia based on the book Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by Julie Powell. Meryl Streep plays the role of Julia Childs. Will she be able to master the trembling vibrato of Childs’ voice?
The second movie is The Time’s Traveler’s Wife based on Audrey Niffenegger’s book by the same title. Back in 2004, I remember spending nights dreaming about the characters. In my sleep, I would compose all sorts of dialog for when Henry and Claire would see each other again. The story has them apart for years and only together for brief periods in time.
Unfortunately, I will sit and analysis the movie to pieces. Because I love the book, I will descend the cinema aisle determined not to allow the movie to surpass my reading experience. I am doomed to compare and contrast everything such as the characters, settings, plot, and theme. Will nothing escape my memory’s eye?
It is my hope the actors chosen to portray Henry and Clare, Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams, will meet my high standards. Bana, being unknown, will help preserve my vision of Henry, but I contain less promise for McAdams.
Before the year ends, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road is set for release. The wife’s brief appearance is played by Charlize Theron and the father by Viggo Mortensen. This post-apocalyptic story which won a Pulitzer may not appeal to all viewers just as the book. I cringe thinking the producers might place a feel-good ending on a book that left the future in the reader’s hands.
Last but not least, is my all-time favorite children’s picture-book Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. I use the book often in story times where I gather children tightly on an imaginary island while I encircle them reading. They become the “Wild Things” as I play the part of King Max. What a thrill it will be to see this and other books mentioned on the big screen.
Note: Julie & Julia was a delight! I almost wanted to come home and cook, but let's not get carried away!
Sunday, August 02, 2009
It's a Bust!
Sorry Guys! I really let the Southern Reading Challenge die this year. I ran one contest and sent out one thing of pecans; although, I drew for two more peeps. My heart just wasn't into it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
In the Woods (copy)
Two different types of readers can tell librarians a thing-or-two about mystery and romance. These readers know their authors, titles, series, and the order in which the books are to be read. I never squabble with a mystery or romance reader. It equates to betting with my brother. He smiles; I lose.
As a librarian, it is hard to read mystery and romance without letting other genres suffer. Even within the two, one will need to choose sides. I am familiar with both but I prefer mysteries.
I began with romance, as so many young readers, in my tweens. My mother handed me Danielle Steel but after eight books I began to wonder, “Where’s the sex?” Next, the librarian suggested Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place and my romance reading languished.
To keep mystery readers happy, I like to keep a couple of Edgar winners in mind. The Edgar is a mystery award named after Edgar Allan Poe. It is decided by Mystery Writers of America and not the American Library Association. This year’s president is Lee Child.
Here’s a little trade secret for those looking for that next book. (Sorry, romancers, I got nothing for you.) Google Edgar winners or go to http://www.theedgars.com/ and find a wealth of titles from which to read. This is a proven method to keep 98% of mystery readers happy. I use it on my unsuspecting husband all the time. Through the website, I have introduced him to new authors and got him reading new series he would not have heard about otherwise.
This week’s book is one such winner in the Best First Novel by an American Author category for 2008. We travel to Ireland in Tana French’s In the Woods, which fits nicely in the subgenre of body-in-the-bog mystery.
All day the three children played in their Dublin estate neighborhood. They were seen by many neighbors traipsing over rocks, running around corners and hiding under bushes. It was after supper and none appeared to eat, that the parents began to worry. Their last known whereabouts were near the woods entry.
Later that night, one is found gripping a tree with his fingernails stuck in the bark and his shoes a flood with blood. Nancy Pearl says, “French’s plot twists and turns will bamboozle even the most astute reader.”
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Olive Kitteridge (copy)
This week our travels take us to a small coastal village in Maine named Crosby. Here we explore the 2009 Pulitzer Prize winning book by Elizabeth Strout titled Olive Kitteridge. Does the author sound familiar? Her previous novels include Amy and Isabelle and Abide with Me.
I hesitate to call it a novel. To me, a novel has a distinct timeline or timelines and plot. Olive Kitteridge is a collection of 13 short stories that all take place in Crosby and have one person, the title character, in common. One story does not flow into another, the characters change often, and plots are subtle if at all present in this book.
What makes this a delight to read is the character study. We begin to interact with the main character of each vignette with sympathy. We want them not to hurt but hope. We want them to shine and not be scared. We want those alone to find someone. Then, lo and behold, Olive shows up and says forget that. What we want as readers is nice and all, but not the way the world works.
Each vignette also builds on Olive’s character. There are times when Olive is merely mentioned such as the story titled “The Piano Player.” Angela O’Meara plays the piano at the Warehouse Bar and Grill four times a week. Never been married, has no children and has sustained a 20 year relationship with a married man, she is now in her fifties.
On a particular night before Christmas, Angela is playing carols as an ex-boyfriend walks through the door. He takes a seat in the corner to watch her play as the Kitteridges’ pass through to the restaurant. Angela notices both but acknowledges Henry, Olive’s husband, whom she likes with his favorite tune, “Good Night, Irene.”
Here we see Olive do a trademark move. She waves over the back of her head to Angela as she quickly moves on to the backroom. From this we imagine Olive cannot be bothered with small talk. She has an agenda we are not privy to but we feel it important; although, Angela admits feeling rather uncomfortable on those nights Olive does stop to chat.
It is easy to see why the Pulitzer committee chose this book. We know Olive. Along with that thought, we know an Olive or Olives amongst us. Heck, Olive exists within our own selves, too. The book falls flat as one big story but knitted togetherness shows its humanistic appeal is universal.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A Couple of Boys have the Best Week Ever (copy)
This week we are off to day camp. Yippee! So, run off and grab your backpacks with lunch and wet wipes, and let’s see if we can drive those counselors crazy. Okay, I’ll start and you guys join in, “Three little angels all dressed in white, trying to get to heaven on an end of a kite…” Camp, the word still fills me with all kinds of excitement. Whether it 4-H or Vacation Bible School, I was usually the first one on the bus ready to get on with it. I sang the loudest, talked the most, devised the late night raids, led the hikes, and became the counselor(s) best friend or it seemed since they all called me by name. Naturally, I collapsed in my bed at the end of the day.
In A Couple of Boys have the Best Week Ever by Marla Frazee, young readers experience camp through first timers, James and Eamon. The opening illustration depicts James in the back of a car on his way to Eamon’s grandparents’ house at the beach. He sits happily thumbing through the Nature Day Camp brochure.
On the next page, Eamon sits anxiously on the end of the cushions between his grandparents, Bill and Pam. Bill is credited for the idea of camp and getting the boys together. He loves nature and especially penguins. Throughout the book, Bill tries unsuccessfully to get the boys to join him on a trip to the zoo to see his favorite creatures. Quick note to the adult readers, be sure to notice Bill’s ever changing tee-shirts as the subtle humor will be lost on younger readers.
Ding-Dong! Finally, the boys are united and become one as Bill quickly coins them Jamon. Next morning and they are off to camp where they learn new vocabulary words from Bill which have nothing to do with penguins. On the return trip they tell Bill about their day. It was a day full of standing around, looking at flowers; although, snapshots, lining the book’s jacket, tell a whole other story.
At the end of the week, the boys praise the camp with, “I think it should be called Sit-Around Camp.” “Yeah, or Sweat-a-Lot Camp.” But, to look at the illustration, one sees them surrounded by four different crafts they made that Friday alone. Just when you think the book is winding down, the boys surprise readers with an impromptu display. I will not give it away, but I never saw it coming!
There is a multi-generational appeal to this picture book and I believe adults sans children will have a great afternoon reading this one, too.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
The Tortilla Curtain (copy)
The scene plays over and over in my head. I cannot stop it. When I make coffee the black tar on his teeth seems to gnaw at me. When I fold the laundry his crumpled up leg appears in the basket. When I bend down to feed the cat his row of ribs void of fat thrust out towards my hand. Even the day the coyote took our precious dog, Sacheverell, I saw the red in his watery blood-shot eyes penetrating me from that mangy beast.
I hit a man in my car the other day as I drove up the canyon to our home in Arroyo Blanco Estates. The damage minimum as a headlight and dent in the bumper were easily replaced and hammer out. It was the thought of his body flying in front of the car then doing some aerobatic maneuver that has me stunned and reliving the event.
Where did he come from? There are no houses on this stretch of highway. There are no businesses. It was like he appeared, did his act for my entertainment, and then magically disappeared all in the blink of an eye; unfortunately, it is my blinking eye or eyes. This scene plays as a rerun in slow-motion video for a dazed crowd who cannot accept the foul.
Foul is a light smell in comparison to the man I found ten minutes later. Had I not heard his moaning under the brush along the path to Topanga State Park, I believe I could have sniffed him out. His homeless look of tattered rags and oily hair now authenticated with his blood and sweat from the accident. He must be camping by the creek as I caught a glint of shinny shopping cart further down the path.
Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor? Can you walk? Do you want me to call you an ambulance? Didn’t you see my car? Why did you run into the road? All my questions were met with moans but no answer. Finally, the man grinned at me with his jagged blood stained teeth and said, “Monee?”
I handed him a twenty, got back in the car, drove to my soon-to-be gated community and cried.
This story turns and twists like the canyon road setting in California northwest of Los Angeles. Adding nicely to our summer travel theme, we also go south of the border in flashbacks. ¡Lectura recomendada, si!
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Lucky Jim (copy)
I booked a trip across the pond this week during arm-chair travel. A delightful three days were spent in early 1950’s Leicester, England, at a university one mile south of London. My tour guide for the event was none other than James Dixon, the bumbling hero of Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis.
In this neo-classic, Dixon is a WWII veteran who lucks into a career as Instructor of History at an unnamed university south of London. He is profusely unqualified to teach and hopes others will not notice. It is bad when students use words he recognizes, but remains unaware of definitions. For instance, the word scholasticism, he thinks it might be a good idea to “look up” since he drops it into many conversations with students and faculty alike.
One of the things he is expected to accomplish in his first year is a published article. His, The Economic Effect of the Developments in Shipbuilding Techniques, 1450 to 1485 is a complete bore and editors revel in writing his rejection letters.
Since, this avenue is looking bleak he decides to run plan B where he charms Professor Welsh, head of the history department, into becoming great friends. At the beginning of the book we find Dixon, tripping over his words to please Welsh. He listens actively as Welsh orates, but internally he makes faces at the pompous wind-bag.
It is this stroll from one building to another, when Welsh ask him a favor. Would he speak on behalf of the history department at College Open Week possibly along the lines of his favorite subject Medieval History? Dixon is quick to say, “Yes, Professor.” Unfortunately, Welsh assigns the subject; something on “Merrie England” will be perfect since it is academic, but then again, not.
Dixon is at a loss. He wrote the article but now finds he has become the college’s expert on the Middle Ages. A subject he finds just as boring as his article, leads to another problem. How long can he pretend to be even remotely interested in history, too?
Lucky Jim is a comedy of errors as Dixon stumbles again-and-again socially and professionally only to come out on top in the end. Readers are left bemused as he squeaks through unbelievable situations to emerge smelling like a rose.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Heretic's Daughter (copy)
Not only do I travel to Salem, Massachusetts, but back in time to the year of our Lord, 1690, in this week’s book The Heretic’s Daughter by Kathleen Kent.
The story opens with this foretelling paragraph:
“In 1630 Governor Winthrop of the Massachusetts Bay Colony took a small group of men and women from the old England to the new. These Puritans, so they were named, would make a place in the colonies by surviving war, plague, and the work of the Devil in a small village called Salem. One woman and her family would stand against religious tyranny, suffering imprisonment, torture, and death. Her outraged and defiant words were recorded by Cotton Mather, who called her, The Queen of Hell. Her name was Martha Carrier.”Kent is a direct descendant of Martha Carrier on her mother’s side. She grew up hearing the stories passed from generation to generation and includes most in this slow-paced historical fiction. The Carriers were known to feed their cow pumpkins to make golden milk, and the children made bows and arrows shooting them above each other’s heads ala William Tell.
When I say slow-paced, I do not mean in the negative sense. She sets the stage for the atrocities by framing meanness and petty jealousies within the Carrier family and their surrounding neighbors. Rumors and innuendoes fill the first half of the book then the story rolls faster as accusations begin the ultimate downhill spiral.
It was said John Carrier brought plague to his chosen settlement, Billerica. Many years prior to establishing his family, he lived with this bitterness associated with the name Carrier. Now, after learning their neighbor has died of the pox, John’s wife, Martha, packs the families’ things for her grandmother’s in Andover. It was their son, Andrew, who carried the contagion to the new community. Like father like son, they would say.
The story is narrated by nine-year-old Sarah Carrier. Looking back on the story she retells, it is in the wagon to Andover she leaves the carefree life of a toddler and becomes aware of the surrounding world. Author Kent picked one so young to explain happenings as she sees them without mucking the waters with her own theories. Through Sarah, readers are not privy to the parent’s conversations and make do with the child’s point of view. Sarah soon turns 10 and has a keen eye for the wicked.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Greasy Rider (copy)
Continuing this summer’s armchair travel theme, it is time for a road trip. This week I hopped in the car with Greg Melville and his college buddy, Iggy, for a cross country from Vermont to California as reported in Melville’s book Greasy Rider. As one may guess, this is not a typical vacation. We are traveling in a 1985 Mercedes 300TD wagon converted to burn vegetable oil, and we are proving to be the first “Greasecar” to traverse America.
Did you know that diesel engines were designed to run on vegetable oil instead of fossil fuels? When Rudolf Diesel designed his first engine he powered it with peanut oil. His idea was to maintain a farmer’s self-sufficient nature by allowing him to produce fuel from his own crop to run a flywheel engine. In the 1900s this might have been practical, but in the age of relatively cheap diesel fuel it is slightly easier to pump from a gas station than plant, fertilize, irrigate, spray insecticide, etc. a crop, for example cotton for the cottonseed oil.
Yes, today’s diesel engines can burn vegetable oil after installing a conversion kit. Unfortunately, Melville’s kit cost $8,000 and to most owners who already have a car note this added expense is too pricey. It is easy to justify the onetime expense when fuel is free though. With an additional $25, one can purchase a filter system and then pull to the back of any fast food restaurant and ask for the used deep-fry oil.
As you can guess, we got a little on the Kentucky Fried Chicken side of funky. At the first toll booth we were waved through as a possible gesture of support, or the fact that we reminded him it was time for lunch. Whatever the case, we made ourselves hungry, too as the smell permeated our clothes and hair after one day on the road.
There are two bad scenarios associated with free fry oil. One, we have to ask for permission to take the used oil. Two, filtering is a nasty project. We quickly got over the embarrassment of asking since many times the need outweighed the humiliation. Most often we gained permission only to find the oil dumpster empty or the oil full of chunks such as taco chips. Filtering can be a fast process if the oil is clean; otherwise, we purchased in bulk fuses that blew with the chunks. Out of frustration one night, Iggy ran to the nearby Wal-Mart and purchased Wesson.
Off route, readers will also visit attractions such as Al Gore’s not so green home in Tennessee, a geothermal heated and cooled Fort Knox in Kentucky, a “green” Wal-Mart in Texas, and a solar-powered Google in California. Sit back and enjoy the scenery in this eco-friendly read.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Summer Reading Program 2009
My plan was to read Kid Tea by Elizabeth Ficocelli (2007), but when I arrived Veneda was setting them up with garbage sack smocks and they had exactly 30 minutes to be done with the craft and back at the elementary school!
The book has a great sing-song verse, for example "elbows-green-with-grass day, knees-and-toes-to-match day." On the next page young footballer is in the tub with the lines, "Dunk me in the tub, please, for green kid tea!" The idea that goes along with the book, is have the children make tea with the different colored paints as they rinse between hand prints. Both tubs were pink when we finished! :D
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
2nd Book Report Due July 15!
Mary's ready! How 'bout you!!!The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam (copy)
Note: This is written for North Mississippi newspaper audiences. I do not want to start another challenge!
Is money tight and options for travel this summer limited? Why don’t we wander all over the world through books? For the next two months, let us globe trot on the cheap. Pull out a world map and push-pin the many places visited without burning gas or running up huge room service bills. Do not forget the starting point (Somewhere, Mississippi) and then join them with string.
I gain a huge head start with Ann Marie Fleming’s graphic memoir of her great-grandfather in The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam. This story took me to China, Europe, North America, Japan, and Australia.
Long Tack Sam is virtually unknown to American audiences today, but in the 20’s and 30’s his vaudeville and magic act were world renown. Fleming puzzled how someone so famous could be completely forgotten in history. She, even as a close relative, did not know the extent of his fame, fortune and the exploits of his troupe. The book unfolds as she discovers the Long story.
Born in 1885, Long Tack Sam ran away from his home in the Shangdung Province of China to join the circus. This area of China is known for providing many schools in acrobat training. He became an apprentice to a magician and expanded his act with magic. Along the way he perfected the Goldfish Bowl Trick that consist of a little dance, forward tumble into a standing position then raising arms to reveal a bowl full of goldfish. He last performed this trick at age 73.
Long Tack Sam began to accumulate money and fame at a young age. While still traveling with the circus he met his future wife in Austria. He needed soap and toothpaste and behind the counter stood Leopoldine Roesler. Love at first sight? Well, this is how genealogy works. We can assume they liked each other enough to marry, have three children and live together until Long died. To add romance without fact would be misleading, but it was Poldi who became his financial manager and the force behind his touring as leader of his own troupe.
Fleming is a director and The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam first appeared as a documentary in 2003. The graphic memoir was produced in 2007 after the successful movie. It is apparent, Fleming has an inherent humor for the arts like her great-grandfather who became an acrobat, magician, comic, business owner (restaurants and theatres), impresario, teacher, and according to the comic George Burns, “the greatest act in the history of vaudeville!”
