THE PERFECT MICROCOSM

ONE MORE JAUNT THROUGH THIS WILD DECADE

When my cousin Jake and I get together, we like to play baseball and watch baseball. Doesn't matter the format - video games, board games, pickup games, wiffle ball in Gramps's backyard until one of us zings a liner off a window and he yells at us to go down to the park if we want to play baseball. I think we bond over baseball because it's a constant. For us it's always been there, and though it changes with time, it's still baseball, and it is tied to the social history of the United States. For a more in-depth discussion, lock yourself in your house for a week and watch the endless Ken Burns documentary, then don't be surprised when you emerge from it with no friends and half-eaten bags of pork rinds all over your living room.

As this is 1970's month, that's my focus. Jake and I like to poke fun at Joe Morgan, a key member of the Big Red Machine in Cincinnati that won a couple World Series titles in '75 and '76. When he did commentary for baseball games on ESPN, old Joe would invariably compare the game in the present day to the 1970's, and he always ended his argument with, "things were tougher in the 1970's." So, that became our rationale for not complaining about hardships. My students are baffled when I say it out of habit. I wasn't alive in the that decade, so what do I know? Thanks to deep insights from the likes of Joe Morgan, I don't need to have lived it. I already know it was tough. Sure, Joe. Whatever you say.

.819 OPS, 689 steals, 2 MVPs, 1 scrambled brain

BUT WAIT, HE MAY BE RIGHT

Lest you think he's full of it, Joe has a point. Aside from the brutal Astroturf, suffocating polyester jerseys, and slap fights in the clubhouse, Morgan did play baseball during turbulent times, and as we all know, those social conditions are usually reflected in the literature. I Am The Cheese is a crime novel, but it centers on a socially awkward youth who is institutionalized and being used by the government; My Brother Sam Is Dead reflects the unrest and political upheaval of the 1970's through the lens of the American Revolution; even the timelessness of The Princess Bride ends on a question: do they live happily ever after? I don't dare read any Judy Blume books from this decade; it's been a long time since I was a 13-year old girl, and I'd rather not spontaneously turn into one after reading Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

Add to this litany of realistic (read: sad) endings the YA novel Hey, Dummy, which is a hot mess from start to finish. In a scant 168 pages, author Kin Platt confronts: mental retardation (his term, not mine), autism, bullying, abusive parents, poverty, racism, the Chicano movement, societal prejudice, failure of the public school system, and a toy drum. There's a dead brother who figures in for about nine seconds, too. WHAT. THE. I colored these red because every time I think about this book, blood shoots out of my nose. 

My first reaction to this book: What did I just read? THIS IS TERRIBLE. It's preachy, jumbled, over-dramatized, simplistic, yet completely out of control. That's the review I wanted to write before I realized I had a brain and a nuanced understanding of history, guaranteeing that I will never land a job on a cable news network.

More like, Hey, Drummy.

So, let's consider the contemporary context of this book, which was published in 1971: the black rights movement continues after MLK is assassinated in '68, the Chicano movement is unionizing farm workers and organizing in cities where their neighborhoods had been ripped apart for interstate highways (and infamously, Dodger Stadium), women's rights, Indigenous Americans occupying Alcatraz, the "war" in Vietnam is going poorly and public opinion is turning against it, police brutality at the Democratic Convention in '68 still fresh in the public mind, compounded by the Kent State shooting in 1970. And this was a time when people couldn't escape with pictures of cute cats on the internet. JOE MORGAN WAS RIGHT. 

This time period itself was a mess, and I think this book reflects that. Neil Comstock is a fairly normal 12-year old boy who bullies a new kids in town, and afterwards realizes the boy (Dummy) is mentally retarded. That's the language used in the book; I realize that the stigmatization of this term has led schools to use other terminology in recent years. Neil writes a short paper in class about his experience with the Dummy, and is lectured by his teacher, Mr. Alvarado. Neil feels remorse for his actions and later defends Dummy against bullies in his school, which soon costs him his own friends. Slowly, Neil begins to examine the world as the Dummy does, and at this point I'm thinking this is an after-school special with warm fuzzies and everyone loving and understanding one another. WRONG. Read on. 

A typical sight in 1970. Supposedly, the English/Philosophy building where I went to college was built of solid concrete to be "riot-proof" - it was also air-conditioning proof. On 80-degree days the EPB was a balmy 130. We were too sleepy to riot. I've never seen a riot-proof engineering building. Conformist nerds!

Alvarado is the voice of wisdom in this book, but also the hackneyed preacher. Comstock visits Alvarado for advice on the Dummy, and gets the speech about how people fear what they do not know, which creates hatred and blahblahblah we've heard this all before. Thanks for stuffing the moral of the story in my eye sockets. Strangely, this is preceded by Alvarado telling Neil EVERY PRIVATE DETAIL about the Dummy. FERPA may not have become law until 1974, but Alvarado, who is supposed to be this moral compass, just violated the privacy of the Dummy and could easily lose his job by breezily telling Neil all about this troubled boy's background and his sister's autism, which is explained away as her needing drugs and treatment or she'll always be that way. [PAUSE] This is all there is to the autism discussion. No more. Nothing from the perspective of the person with autism, or say, anyone who thinks that drugs and treatment are not the answer. Boom. Drugs. The short shrift to these issues is not exclusive to autism, but is the most glaring example. For a much more thorough discussion of autism spectrum in YA literature, read the excellent Al Capone Does My Shirts. [RESUME]

THEN, Alvarado explains how the state of California (in 1971) categorizes mental retardation (author's words, not mine) and that many schools do not have appropriate programs for these students, and let them rot in classrooms with younger students. WHY AM I READING AN EDITORIAL IN THE MIDDLE OF A NOVEL. Probably because this is how the time period went: propaganda everywhere; rhetoric all over the place, and the push to bring social injustice to light. What's most fascinating is how Alvarado guides Neil to understand the Dummy and get involved. Then, when the Dummy is accused of murder and a bunch of villagers with pitchforks and torches come after him (don't ask) Neil takes him to Alvarado for safe keeping, and Alvarado screams about how harboring a suspected murderer will cost him his job (oh, but sharing private information won't) and set back the Chicano movement in Los Angeles. YES! COMPETING VALUE SYSTEMS. He goes from "we must understand this person and his unique situation," to "get him the bleep out of here, only the authorities will know if he is capable of killing someone. I have to protect the Mexicanos and our tenuous hold on anything resembling rights." NIMBYism in action.

All this time, Neil is dealing with lousy parents who seemingly hate him and his kid sister; they verbally abuse him and slap both kids on a couple occasions. They're flat characters, but this kind of domestic situation is hardly rare, so I'll reserve any complaints about the parents; their hollering against Neil suggesting that he bring the Dummy over for a visit because he's a "misfit," and "moron," and could harm Neil's sister serves the story and probably represents the views of many who, as Alvarado says, just don't understand. HOWEVER, the dead brother part seems tossed in to exacerbate Neil's issues with his parents. The dead brother is mentioned in passing at the beginning of the novel, and then returns when Neil weights his relationship with his parents in a soliloquy to the Dummy; he somehow has a memory from his infancy in which his father states that he preferred Neil had died. THAT is the point I almost chucked this book. All of this commentary on the state of society and your turning point is the realization that his dad wanted him dead based on what is probably an invented memory. Kin Platt, you just threw away what could have been a brilliant book, and then had an elephant crap on it by having Neil take on the persona of the Dummy because it's "easier." Even for a 12-year old, that kind of thinking is dangerous and off-putting. This book was about the plight of the mentally handicapped, until it drove Neil bonkers. Why is the protagonist going insane? WHY DOES EVERY BOOK FROM THE 1970s END WITH A KID GOING TO THE NUT HOUSE. 

AAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

Okay. I'm better. There is a decent, but manufactured reason, that Neil ends up institutionalized, but it is out of left field and not seemingly related to the thousands of themes presented in the narrative. Which, I suppose demonstrates the random acts of senseless violence that plagued the era of this book. The social issues discussed firmly plant the book in 1971 and the surrounding years, but the story, which I believe to be portrayed as realism, becomes so wild and increasingly irrelevant that it loses me.

FINAL VERDICT: Not much literary value, but stands as a view of a complicated era, and might be used in some historical context. Very much a novel of its time, when things were tougher. Just ask my pal Joe. 

That is all for the 1970's. I can't take it anymore. I need to read something not so depressing. Why not an alien-human love story?  

NEXT TIME, I YELL ABOUT

A free e-book that I sort of promised the author I'd review. Let's just say that this story is inspired by the show Ancient Aliens, which means it'll probably be a HAIR-RAISING EXPERIENCE!

^ that's the joke.

BORING STUFF

Hey, Dummy

Kin Platt

1971 Chilton

AS YOU WISH

INCONCEIVABLE

Are you kidding me? Why haven't I read this until now? This should be a staple book for 7th-9th grade. When I finally become king of America, I'll require it in every classroom. Sword fights! Pirates! Thieves! Monsters! Adventure! Action! And, I suppose, love. 

It's the third installment of 1970's month. Although it was published in that decade, it's a timeless classic, and a shoe-in for inclusion in the vaunted SHELF OF FAME. 

And these guys! Inconceivable! You killed my father, prepare to die! Anybody want a peanut?

This is an all-timer, and not just because of the movie, which continues to captivate; but it is part of the equation of success. If I ever trick someone into having a kid with me, this will be the first movie s/he views, and probably the only one until s/he is old enough to appreciate Godard and Eisenstein and pretend s/he is smarter and deeper than me. 

Where to begin praising this book? Probably the beginning. William Goldman is a clever fellow, and his vitae is long and storied, but this The Princess Bride (TPB) is his best, by far. Part of what makes this book so great is that Goldman himself wrote the screenplay for the movie, with most of the scenes inserted verbatim, which makes imagining these scenes unfolding all the better as I read; the faces and voices were there. Some might say that seeing the movie first, then reading the book is going to taint the experience of the book, but I argue that in this case, it's enhanced. For one, THE SAME GUY wrote both. Second, it's his vision of the book in film form. Third, by virtue of 1 and 2, the story is not butchered for popular consumption, nor are key details changed that enrage the people who like to bemoan how movies ruin books, like this lady.

If you clicked the link, you'll notice that the author leads off with The Scarlet Letter. As I started TPB, the first comparison that came to mind was The Custom House, the horribly dull introduction to Hawthorne's work. It's what, 43 pages? All he had to write was, "Hey, I found this story of Puritan scandal in a trunk in a stuffy old attic. It's pretty good. Let's read it together." UUUUGGGHHHH I remember having to read that turgid glacier of an introduction in high school. What a drag. Conversely, Goldman sets up the story of TPB with actual fanfare and meaningful context. This exposition of how the story came about is long and slow-paced, but is much more engaging than The Custom House. However, there is some material about staring at some actress in a swimsuit that made me uncomfortable. (Here, the italics indicate that I am one whose comfort zone is expansive, and that usually it takes something extreme to, as they say, get my goat.) Probably because I want kids to read this book. Now I'll get angry emails and calls from parents who think I am promoting perversion. Goldman saves the introduction with the discussion of his father reading the (fictional) S. Morgenstern classic book to him as a child, and Goldman's lifelong desire to publish an abridged version. There's some satire here that will fly over a kid's head, but I got it. Yay me. This part of the introduction, and the periodic interjections by Goldman throughout the story, are transferred to the film in the grand-dad / grandson moments with Peter Falk and Fred Savage. 

After the introduction, the story begins in earnest. For the sake of pacing in the movie, the personal histories of the main characters are jettisoned, and in the book they provide much-needed new information that gives us a deeper understanding of Prince Humperdinck, Inigo, Fezzik, and Buttercup. And my goodness, how fascinating these histories are! I'm thankful for them, as they provide excellent fodder for discussions of character motivations and developing rounded, full personalities within a book. 

Then, there is the narrative. It's like watching the movie again, with some slight, but not debilitating, differences. It moves right along, as Goldman promises, and his interjections and certain parts of the abridgments are entertaining. I worried that he would get too cute with them and bring the story to a screeching halt over and over, but it's tastefully done, and he wisely chooses the right spots. 

I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU

I wanted my room to look like this when I was a kid.
And I wanted Peter Falk to read bedtime stories to me.
I never got what I wanted. 

So many themes emerge as one reads. Allow me to cover them in convenient list form:

1. Father-son relationship
2. The importance of stories in our culture/childhoods
3. Standard tropes of fairy tales
4. The role of true love in stories
5. Loneliness and friendship
6. Solidarity and betrayal
7. Finding one's place in society
8. Passing the torch (in lots of ways)
9. Nagging wives (introduction only) 
10. Death and Life
11. Life isn't fair
12. The eternal presence of pain

There are more one could tease out and analyze, I'm sure, but I don't work for Spark Notes, so forget about it. With the wealth of themes, motifs, and symbols within this story, one could run the 8/9 gamut of literature standards in this one book. If I could go back in time and hypnotize my English teacher into scuttling The Scarlet Letter and replacing it with TPB, I would. I'd also kick myself for using time travel so frivolously. I want to use this in a literature class to deconstruct fairy tales and fantasy books, so that the kiddos and I can examine and make fun of them, and by doing so, understand them. It's like bullying, but with a purpose.  

There is not much more I can add to the extant literature about this book and film combination. That many people appreciate it and hand it down through their generations demonstrates that some of us still have taste and decency, but also that we're proving Goldman's point of the importance of stories that are shared across families and generations as a way to connect, to bond, and to establish common mythology, but also common values. 

What's most impressive to me about Goldman is the ease and brevity with which he creates a fictional world. They're the Cliffs of Insanity because...they're the cliffs of insanity! We can fill in the rest. The rodents of unusual size? Sure, they're real. When reading fantasy, we do suspend disbelief, and Goldman plays with that, but everything seems so logical, especially in the way that he categorizes and ranks things throughout the book - most people will probably remember the most powerful kisses narration by Peter Falk near the end of the film. Goldman throws in similar silliness with timing the invention of certain things and ideas, which, in the world of The Princess Bride, makes sense, but in our boring old world, would be highly illogical, Captain. 

It's the perfect mix of comedy, wit, drama, intrigue, and adventure within a timeless setting, without resorting to the scope and length of the 1000-page epics. I suppose that's why he's a celebrated author for a living and I post this drivel for free. 

Mawidge.

The frenzied ending might be my favorite part of the book. Here, Goldman gives us exact times for every single encounter and action and the story hurtles toward its inevitable conclusion. I remember thinking at one point, there are only 25 pages left in this book; how will Goldman pull this off? I'm irritated, but extremely curious. Now, the very end, in which Goldman gives his final commentary, leaves a cliffhanger, but is mirrored well in the movie, leaving us to question what happens after the story ends. Obviously, that is up to the reader, which is the power of literature and imagination. Do we want a happy ending? Should there be extended conflict? Will *shudder* there be a sequel? So, there's some satire around happy endings, which is fine. How would you expect something like this to end other than how it started - with a laugh. 

Okay, I'll stop fawning now.

NEXT TIME, I YELL ABOUT

The fourth, and probably last, book in 1970's month. Let's just say that I hear this one A LOT!

BORING STUFF

The Princess Bride

William Goldman

1973 Del Rey

SAM'S DEAD, BABY, SAM'S DEAD

This is Part Two of 1970's week and/or month, to celebrate finding some worn books in a dusty old box and discovering utility in them for the YA crowd, whether for simply reading or as antiquated cultural artifacts, like bell-bottoms and falling in love at summer camp. They didn't call it The Me Decade for nothing.

SAM DIES AT THE END

Authors and publishers have to do provocative things to gain readers. Some go with racy cover art, some engage is guerilla marketing tactics, and others simply give away the ending in the title. Such is the case with My Brother Sam is Dead, a brilliant YA fictional recounting of the social climate of the Revolutionary War, or as the Brits call it, Whoops.

Sorry for your loss. Have a children's book award.

I read this book during SSR time at school, and gave periodic updates to the students, who wanted to know if/when Sam would actually die. Being a brilliant teacher, I used their interest in the title and my reading of it to solicit predictions about Sam and impromptu discussion of the role of a title in selling a book and generating interest in the book. This book is clever in that it continually keeps the reader asking when Sam will die, if at all. In my case, it had me screaming, "DIE ALREADY, YOU REBEL SCOUNDREL!" 

The Brothers Collier brilliantly present an historical fiction that is set around actual events in an actual colonial locale. The main characters in the Meeker family are invented, but their tavern is not, nor are many of the supporting characters. They combed through crusty old documentation to create a realistic portrayal of daily life in the colonies, as well as the exceptional burden the rebellion put on towns, families, and individuals. I just happened to be finishing a term on the American Revolution when I picked up this book, and bow howdy, I wish I'd been able to read portions of it at the appropriate intervals to bring to life some of these debates and issues. 

As it is, I referenced the book after the fact quite a bit, and we did have a stirring debate in which students portrayed patriots, loyalists, moderates, and representatives of King George. One girl who argued the Crown's perspective compared the patriots to spoiled children who needed to go to their rooms. The boy portraying James Otis yelled, "I will, soon as you get your soldier out of it!" Oh, how we laughed. Quartering Act humor, people. IT'S FUNNY. And the basis for the Third Amendment, which seems just as outdated as everything else in the grand decade of 1970-79, with the possible lone exception OF THE VERY BOOK I DISCUSS HERE. 

Of course, this is historical fiction, and not necessarily indicative of anything about the decade, other than the book's publication, and that it happened to be written near the time of the US Bicentennial and its patriotic (some would argue nationalist) fervor. My Brother Sam Is Dead serves as a stark reminder of the divided loyalties in the colonies and that the movement to become independent and self-governing did not enjoy the support of the majority in its own time. And before you go calling me some pinko fascist, look! I'm now typing in RED, WHITE, and BLUE. 

Back to the book: It's brilliant. they cover so much territory of the Revolution that one could teach it with this novel as its basis. There is a website full of primary source material for educational purposes, and (FREE STUFF FOR TEACHERS ALERT!) packaged curriculum that is open-ended and makes for fairly easy instructional planning. Bless the internet, and its clunky predecessor that ruled the 1970's, ARPANET. 

Use this book for teaching. Read it to gain some historical understanding. Read it for pleasure if you're a historical fiction person. If you're not, this might be an appropriate starting place. 

WHAT ABOUT THE BOOK'S LITERARY QUALITIES?

They're fine.

Okay, I'll comment on one thing: Tim Meeker's internal struggle to pick a side in the war, which amounts to choosing between his father and his brother. That's taut realism, and central to the story, which the authors execute with great aplomb. The symbolism of the father's gun, Brown Bess, and Sam's decision to steal it, further the split that conflicts Tim. 

Okay, one more thing: word choice. Not so fine. Exhibit A:

You're writing a book for kids, not a letter to Penthouse. 

I might just skip that part, or build in ten minutes for students to giggle and snicker and take pictures of that line for the making of memes. Why not. 

NEXT TIME, I YELL ABOUT

Stagflation! Just kidding. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone but Jimmy Carter. Instead, it's time to evaluate the original novel that spawned one of the greatest movies ever to grace celluloid. Let's just say I'm preparing an R.O.U.S. - a REVIEW OF UNUSUAL SIZE!

BORING STUFF

My Brother Sam Is Dead

James Lincoln Collier & Christopher Collier 

1974 Scholastic

HEY! TEACHER! LEAVE MY CHEESE ALONE!

Looks like I picked the wrong decade to start reading

Unintentionally, it's 1970's week and/or month. I've been reading novels from that decade and I don't know why. Some are YA and will be reviewed here, while others are destined for my new blog entitled, Dear 1970's, You're Weird & Gross (Don't Ever Change)."

So, I finally read I Am The Cheese, which sounds like a malapropism you'd hear in some lousy romantic comedy of errors when the desperate man is trying to communicate with his Latina lover after a misunderstanding (For some reason I'm picturing Adam Sandler doing this and it makes me want to punch a wall) or a kid in 9th grade Spanish class who just doesn't get it.

[Cue flashback sequence]

1996: I'm in Spanish I with Señor Patterson. First of all, his name is Señor Patterson, so how can I take him seriously? Second, he looks and acts like the Dean on Community, a TV show which does not exist in 1996, so I've just committed an act of anachronism. Pardon me for not being able to think of something more period-appropriate, as I spent most of my teenage years in the basement. 

Sr. Patterson: Let's review our infinitives. Responde en íngles. Antonio, enseñar.

Antonio: To be insane?

Sr. Patterson: Paco, correr.

Paco: The thing you slice apples with?

Sr. Patterson: Samuel, ir.

Samuel: I thought we were doing verbs, not anatomy.

Sr. Patterson: Samuel, I'll see you in detention today. 

Samuel: Merde. 

[End flashback] 

Surprise! I was Samuel. Spanish class was torture to me, yet I went on to minor in the language in college, then promptly lose most of it because I had no one to practicar with me, and it made me muy triste. 

GET ON WITH IT

It's a metaphor. 

I suppose this book is a classic; if it receives a 30th Anniversary edition, it's not a hunk of stale mozzarella. In fact, it's a gouda one, and probably made Robert Cormier lots of cheddar. Dairy I continue with these puns? No. 

Cormier has three simultaneous narratives going, which breaks up monotony and ought to intrigue the reader as to how they will come together. And they do! What's most impressive is the presentation: One is a first-person narrative of the protagonist, Adam Farmer, on a desperate bike ride* to see his father, the second is his life told in flashback, and the third is a transcript of Adam talking to what we believe to be a psychologist. What I thought would be an obtuse teen drama turned out to be a crime thriller of sorts. Not my normal reading material, but worth the time. In an interview with the author published in the 30th anniversary edition, Cormier states that he was worried that the fractured narratives would alienate his audience, but the presentation is so vivid and compelling that he achieves the desired effect. Cormier gradually introduces hidden elements of the story, as a practiced writer does, rather than throwing everything at you in the last five pages (every story ever written by a 7th grader). 

Adam himself is complex, aloof, and somewhat strange, but he resonates. Who hasn't eavesdropped on their parents' phone calls, thinking that they were up to something, or pressed themselves against the wall around the corner to listen in on their quiet conversations. I did, and that's how I learned that the goldfish hadn't actually gone on vacation, and what really happened to the dog. [I had told my little sister that the dog ran away to join the circus; she still hasn't forgiven me.] Because each of the three narratives centers on Adam in a different context and condition, we know there is something underneath that he/we want to discover, and that makes for great anticipation of what will happen next. Even after the big reveal, there's more to the story; Cormier doesn't know the definition of falling action. He breaks the rules! 

The true face of literary rebellion.

Here are some of the questions I generated while reading and trying to get to the bottom of the mystery:

1. Why does Adam so badly need to see his father?
2. What's the "present" he's bringing along?
3. Why does this psychologist keep asking the same questions over and over?
4. What's the deal with the title and - oh, I get it now.

And so on. It's difficult to explain much of the book without giving away details, but the above questions will get you started. If you like your stories spoon-fed to you, 1) what are you doing here? and 2) please view the 1983 film of the novel, which completely changes/destroys the ending, on the magic of the You Tubes, starring a young Cynthia Nixon, who would later be in a show many girlfriends have forced me to suffer through. At least it's not in Spanish. 

*Another bike ride story, another mystery, another set of interrogations, and another reason for me to be irritated with Jennifer Bradbury. 

NEXT TIME, I YELL ABOUT

the second installment of 1970's week and/or month. This time, it's historical fiction, and it so moved someone to create an entire website built around the story. I'm far too lazy to do such a thing, as are the authors of the book; let's just say the TITLE GIVES IT ALL AWAY!

BORING STUFF

I Am The Cheese

Robert Cormier 

1977 Alfred A. Knopf