It's Eleven Eleven somewhere

I may as well rename this blog JB yells about YA books written on or about the two world wars. Something about me: I did my undergraduate history colloquium on the First World War, so I have some minor expertise. There's so much to this war in the run-up, combat (not military strategy, gross!) and aftermath that bears careful study, and it's one of my favorite topics to cover in world studies. Therefore, to find a YA book that covers this territory is both exciting and nauseating. If it really captures the essence of the time period and the socioeconomic outcomes, let the party begin. Should it fall short in any way, it's going in the bottom of the fireplace and coming out the top. So, I approached Paul Doswell's Eleven Eleven with trepidation. 

Three lives. No second chance. One ring to rule them all.

PLOT

It's November 11, 1918, so you know what that means - NO SCHOOL! Not so fast, kiddos. This is the day in which 11/11 became a holiday, SO LISTEN UP. Enough of that. It's the last day of the Great War. Three teenage boys, on the front somewhere in Belgium try, to survive the waning hours of combat before the armistice officially takes hold at 11 a.m.; a German infantry, a British scalliwag, and an American hotshot pilot converge and must help each other in order to escape alive. Now thaaat's INTRIGUE!

WRITING

Glance at Dowswell's bibliography and you'll see that he's churned out half a dozen YA war novels in the last decade after years of writing non-fiction. Good for you, Paul; facts are hard! The prose is clear, and Dowswell mixes sentence lengths, throws in plenty of military slang and German terms to lend some authenticity to the proceedings, and generally does well to describe the mucky, wracked setting of the tale. HOWEVER (oh boy, it's gonna get good!) I saw the term "dummkopf" and thought, "COPYKOPF." Anyone who regularly reads YA knows that Scott Westerfeld essentially took ownership of the term through his Leviathan series, another bunch of books set around WWI, but steampunked up in a dazzling style. Sorry Paul late to the party on that one. Worse: this guy obviously has a hard-on for aviation, to the point that it's detrimental to the story. He spends SO LONG describing Eddie, the suave American, joyriding in his tinderbox of a plane. Air combat during the First World War was new, unpredictable, and deserves to be noted, but after reading two solid pages describing banking maneuvers, slamming joysticks around (gross) and daring turns to evade enemies, I thought I'd mistakenly picked up the Red Baron's diary. Get me out of here. Get back to the story. DO SOMETHING. Oh, finally, he was shot down, and all because he was out looking for one more enemy plane to shoot up in order to officially be a flying ace. Why? TO IMPRESS A GIRL. Come. on. 

CHARACTERS 

Naturally, the American is the most detached and selfish of the lot, at first. I suppose that stands to reason, as the USA entered the war at late stages, and didn't have a cultural horse in the race. Nice touch when Eddie, first generation American of German descent, speaks Deutsche to Axel, the German soldier, who questions why these two German boys are fighting one another. But ONCE AGAIN, it is too reminiscent of another's work - in this case the almighty Vonnegut, who recounted a similar anecdote when he was taken prisoner during WWII. The British kid is William, I think. I'm not going to look it up. He was duped into volunteering for military duty by the father of a girl he courted. It's established that YA readers in general question the motives of adults, but to demonstrate such cynicism, yeeouch! Some pointed truth, brother. 

Overall, the characters function as vessels of fear and survival. they all long for something at home and clearly have no idea what they're doing in the middle of this war that long ago lost its meaning, congruent to their decision to drop nationalistic urges of violence in favor of surviving the waning hours of combat and shelling.

THE FINAL VERDICT 

It's not what I would imagine the standard WWI novel to be for YA readers, but it can do in a pinch. It's no All Quiet On The Western Front, (Copykopf alert! The ending of Eleven Eleven is A LOT LIKE All Quiet's), but it does belong in the clump of books to offer students to enrich their understanding of WWI, the horrors of warfare, delusions of nationalism, putting differences aside to work together, and the whims of fanatic heads of state. Or, they could try on these tunes:

This is what Eddie puts on his Walkman before every flight. 

Everything I know I learned from metal. And 20+ years of school/work experience. Mostly the latter.

Decent book. I'm not repulsed by it, but it won't be the first WWI fiction recommendation. 

Below are a couple non-fiction WWI books that have plenty of visuals and describe in detail the atrocious human condition and cost. I have used these in my WWI curriculum with great success:

The Experience of World War I by J.M. Winter

Eye Deep in Hell by John Ellis

NEXT TIME, I YELL ABOUT

A wordless book, sporting the same title as a forgettable Charlie Sheen movie, which doesn't narrow it down for you guessers. Let's just say this Arrival is better than this Arrival. 

BORING STUFF

Eleven Eleven

Paul Dowswell

2012 Bloomsbury

BANNED!

Not Appearing In Chicago:

Whoops! We recommended a book with real-world experiences to kids!

Well, sort of. Persepolis, which I've previously reviewed, has been ruled unfit for consumption by 7th graders in Chicago schools. Which is fine, because as we all know, when a book gets this kind of attention, lots of people will protest, bring attention to the matter, and many readers will find it on their own. It's encouraging to see parents and students protesting a decision they see as censorship, but the establishment has a point in keeping the book out of 7th grade classrooms. Persepolis does contain mature content that may be too much for 12- and 13-year old students to handle. But should that possibility be reason enough to prevent teachers from giving other students the option of pursuing this book in class? Would it hurt for a CPS student to wait a year to read this book in class? Will I stop asking questions that end with the words in class?

First of all, the book was recommended to 7th graders by Chicago Public Schools, as stated in the article. MAKE UP YOU MIND, CPS. This is now a case of hindsight, and is most damning in demonstrating that the school district does not know what it recommends (dictates?) the literature used in the classroom. Forget censorship - who oversees the material that is pumped into Chicago's schools?

I wore this to Guy Montag's house. Now I'm dead.

Author Marjane Satrapi, of course, is beside herself, and has plenty to say about free speech and democracy, and rightfully so - the irony of her book about individualism, rebellion, and oppressive cultural values being removed from a classroom in the Unites States speaks for itself. However, the school district has only removed the book from classrooms; it's still available in school libraries. Regardless, it's an act of denying a book to a certain age group by a public official. Is the CEO justified? Maybe. Overreacting? Possibly. This is more complex than standard censorship; irresponsibility and short-sighted planning are the real issues here.

Can I get on my soapbox and castigate the school district for assuming that a class of (probably 40) students would all want to, or be willing to read, any one book? Persepolis is an outstanding work of literature and art, but even this work won't capture everyone's imagination. Let's reform our classrooms! DOWN WITH UNIFORMITY! UP WITH CHOICE! DOWN WITH CONFORMITY! UP WITH...LETTING TEACHERS HELP STUDENTS FIND BOOKS TO READ TO MEET CURRICULUM GOALS!

Now, chant that for 6 hours.

The boy who harnessed the wind and made the rest of us feel like we're wasting our lives

I'm struggling with whether to put a fart joke here

Yeah well, I didn't invent a damn thing before I was 20, other than lies about my homework. 

I have nothing but praise. This guy has the goods. 

The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind is my-life-so-far book by a William Kamkwamba, who spent much of his adolescent years determined to bring free electricity and irrigation to his family's home in poverty- and drought-stricken Malawi. If you can point out Malawi on a map without labels, congratulations. It's a story of overcoming stiff odds and one person's drive to succeed and should rightfully be celebrated. At the same time, it strikes me as a cautionary tale for people in developed countries who take for granted the comforts of their lives, and to never stop thinking.

William pursued something that would improve his life, but also would teach him to put faith in science and human ingenuity over the "magic" purported to hold sway over the people in Malawi, and that he once believed to be a legitimate source of power. Further, he was ridiculed by others in his village for his pursuits, labeled a wacko pothead, which for a time brought shame to his family. There are heavy lessons in here for anyone willing to put in the time, e.g. my world studies class next term. SUCKERS! It's important, too, to read the final pages on being recognized for his achievements by the international scientific community, which goes to show that hard work and ingenuity will not go unrewarded. The guy got a free ride through college and on The Daily Show for crying out loud. 

I categorize this book as YA non-fiction for the following reasons:

1) It was a written by a young adult

2) Deals with concepts around self-improvement and self-discovery to which YA readers can relate

3) It reads smoothly, and the 960 Lexile means that is well within the range of high school readers. 

4) YOU CAN'T STOP ME.

5) We need more realistically uplifting non-fiction for our kiddos, and this one does the job, with the added benefit of supplementing the book with social studies content and all of the media around William and other inventors like him. I can see using this book in the classroom for years to come. 

Boring Stuff

The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind

William Kamkwamba (with Bryan Mealer)

2010 Reprint William Morrow

Next time, I yell about

a book about three teenage boys mired in a never-ending war, with one chance to get out alive. Let's just say  THE NUMBERS DO THE TALKING!

F-

There goes the damage deposit.

Dear Theodore Taylor,

I am writing to you today about your YA novel, The Bomb. You may be dead, but I have watched that X-Files episode in which a paranoid computer genius uploaded his consciousness to the internet about 19 times, and I dreamed that my great-grandmother has been trying to find security holes in latest version of Java so she can nag me. Also, I can't find my Ouija board. Let's assume this finds you.

"Oh look, another book about World War Two," I said to myself as I flipped through listings of YA books set in and around the Second World War. I am constantly looking for action-oriented stories for reluctant boy readers, and yours looked like the cover of a Megadeth album, bringing to mind the metal mania of Mustaine, Marty, Menza, and the other band members whose names don't start with M. Explosions! Destruction! Chaos! Sold.

But wait, it's not an action novel. Damn you, Theodore Taylor! It's a tale of dubious morality and value-based conundrums as the imperialist modern era barges into formerly isolated outposts of humanity! There's even a list of discussion questions at the end of the book. YOU TRICKED ME, THEODORE TAYLOR. Instead of rip-roaring fight scenes, I spent 195 pages on painful inevitability reading about Sorry, the teenage Bikinian hellbent on rescuing his home from the most destructive man-made force: ego. Ha ha! I kid. I mean, of course, atomic weaponry. In a matter of days he's ripped from the cocoon of tropical island solitude and tossed aside for an arms race that both befuddles and angers him. As if that weren't fascinating enough, you include chapter interludes that chronicle the birth of the bomb and the process of bringing the bomb to Bikini. A brilliant stroke; as the two narratives come closer and closer to their final confrontation, I was jumping up and down screaming at Sorry to get the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of there and fold in the face of powers much bigger than him.

The name Sorry: a linguistic coincidence? Cultural oddity? Cheap apology? Does Taylor see himself in Sorry's situation and feel...empathy for him? I don't get it. Last time it was a girl named Capable, now a boy named Sorry. If they had a kid, I guess the logical name choice would be Mediocre. Sure, the name Sorry is memorable and has some significance to the author, but I question the choice. Still, you could have done much worse, such as writing a book about super heroes called Heroes and naming one of the main characters Hiro. That would just be overt pandering, too self-evident, would completely alienate readers, who would laugh it off as hack work, and the venture would tank completely. Right? Answer: Not in television!

The characters are meh, with the exception of Uncle Abram. I get that Sorry is a confused teenager, but he's just not that interesting or sympathetic; for his people as a group, readers may develop feelings, but Sorry is bland, and his life-altering decision seems forced, as does the sentimental moment with his sister, who barely appears in the book, and her favorite doll. Auxiliary characters are there to simply move things along. That's no major detraction, as the plot drives this book all the way home and doesn't even ask for gas money. 

The last fifteen pages are unspeakably intense. The buildup was worth it. Any YA reader craving action will flip their lid at this climax. You can't possibly top this, can you, Theodore Taylor? No way. 

**SPOILER ALERT**

[Not for you, Theodore, you wrote the thing. This is for all two of my readers who may not want to read on for fear of substantial detail ruining the mystery of your book. It's a common term used on the Internet. That this has entered the lexicon vexes me]

Yes way. Mere moments after finishing the story, I picked up the book again to read the afterword, and you hit me in the chops: HE WAS AT THE BIKINI ISLANDS TO ARRANGE THE BOMB TEST. Theodore, I threw the book across the room. It's as close as I've ever come to a KHAAAAAAN! moment. Here was a nice little story about the infamous bomb test and its effect on people who never had a horse in the race, and you throw on top of it the authenticity and credibility of BEING THERE WHEN ALL OF THIS HAPPENED. All of my issues with characterization and narrative flow seem trivial in comparison to this story having churned inside of you for fifty years, waiting to be told.

Okay guys, the scary spoiler is gone!

Interesting Factoid From This Book That May Interest Only Me:

Sorry regards the albatross fly-by as an ominous sign of approaching danger, whereas in European maritime tradition, an albatross sighting is an omen of good luck. 

Thank you for this book with a misleading cover, somewhat flat characters, intense plot, clever structure, and bonus discussion questions so I don't have to think of any. A truly unforgettable work, which asks questions for which we still do not have answers.

Best,
JB

Boring Stuff

The Bomb

Theodore Taylor

2007 Graphia (reissue)

Next: I yell about a boy wonder in Africa. Let's just say it's going to be a BREEZE!

George Saunders: Badass

False Start

I don't know how to begin

What is this I don't even

What else can be said for

WHY CAN'T I THINK OF A

*Clears Throat*

Okay, those are out the way, and I'm ready to write about George Saunders and his book, The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip. First and foremost, I'm legally obligated to notify readers that this story is not about legendary guitarist Robert Fripp, nor makes any reference to him, other than to praise his virtuosity and to exhort you (extort if you're nasty) to purchase the entire King Crimson catalog. 

Except for this.

I was introduced to George Saunders (the concept) by a college classmate, about fifteen minutes before seeing George Saunders (the man) give a live reading, mini-lecture, and Q&A about George Saunders (the author). He read some pieces that were eventually published in In Persuasion Nation, which takes great umbrage with consumer culture and so sadistically subverts it through unremarkable, largely unsympathetic protagonists*, trapped so deeply in the world of brand-naming and advertising that they're unable to think clearly for themselves. This is a recurring theme* throughout his works, which are difficult to categorize, if you're into that sort of thing. They're not quite futuristic fantasies, nor cautionary tales of dystopia* and social satire*. Yet, it's all of that. Some of the plots are absurd, yet not far-fetched.

Saunders's work has had a major impact on my reading interests and my writing. Anything off-kilter immediately captures my interest, but what he writes is so convincing, the dialogue in particular. He's so tuned into our spoken language that when it's on the printed page it looks foreign - yet this is how we talk. Many of his characters engage in up-talking*, that is, ending every sentence on a rising tone, as if asking a question. And I think, wow, this guy can't be stopped. Why can't I write like this? So I try, and turns out this is really hard, mom! Saunders has this down. Check it out:

"Being a man who knows something about grandfatherly disapproval, having  had a grandfather who  constantly taunted me for having enlarged calves - to the extent that even today, when bathing, I find myself thinking unkind thoughts about Grandfather - what I prayed on both occasions was: Dear Lord, he is what he is, let me love him no matter what. If he is a gay child, God bless him; if he is a non-gay child who simply very much enjoys wearing his grandmother's wig while singing Edelweiss to the dog, so be it, and in either case let me communicate my love and acceptance in everything I do." - from "My Flamboyant Grandson".

That's two sentences. TWO. But that's how we talk! If I received this in a language arts class I'd probably say to the kid, "Hey, that's some really complex sentencing you've created, but I think, because you're a young writer, that these long sentences with all the fancy punctuation marks like the semicolon* and dashes? Not to sound mean, but those should go, because you're not a famous author so you can't get away with that kind of thing yet, which is too bad, but that's how it goes, kid; so here's what you do: break them up into smaller chunks. Do you even know what a dependent clause* is?" - from my really bad impression of George Saunders just now.

*LANGUAGE ARTS TERMINOLOGY ALERT!

GET ON WITH IT!

What do you mean, you "forgot to pick up eye drops"?

So, the guy wrote a book for kids. As with the best kids books, this one works for YA and adult readers. While George tones down the complex sentences and keeps the story simple, there is enough strangeness and subtext for the older crowd. It's 84 pages, with gorgeous, fractured illustrations by Lane Smith, who most notably did the art for The True Story Of the Three Little Pigs.

The plot: In a seaside community of goat keepers, the gappers, spiny baseball-sized creatures with multiple eyes, are irresistibly drawn to goats. When they reach the goats, they issue high-pitched shrieks of joy that stress the goats, who won't produce milk. It's up to a little girl named Capable to find another way to make a living for her family when the goats won't give and the neighbors refuse to help.

The illustrations do well to augment the story, but it's all in the words. Sure, sure, the main idea is sharing and caring for one's fellow humans, but the themes can be applied to social studies discussions of forms of economy, how people interact in the marketplace, and how one's value system dictate their actions - and how those values contradict themselves with circumstance. Pretty heady for my four year-old, but perfect for the YA crowd, who, despite what education "experts" would believe, actually do want to think and form their own opinions on the BIG QUESTIONS in our contemporary society: In a land of plenty, why do so many people go without(?); Who moved my cheese(?); and other such classic queries. Highly recommended.

Boring Stuff

The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip

George Saunders

2006 McSweeney's 

Next time: It's the second straight book whose main character has an obviously loaded name. Let's just say, this book is THE BOMB!

MASTER! OF! ANGST!

After my less than ecstatic review of KL Hong's book of stale wisdom for teenagers,  I was deluged with emails challenging my assertion that fiction could better speak to the unsettled, isolated adolescent condition. Deluged means zero, I think. 

I work with at-risk students. The most general escape for them is music. The earbuds go in and the world melts away. There is solace and predictability in familiar music, but also the capacity for imagination. It's a safe place. When I was fifteen, blasting Master of Reality, or Master of Puppets, or Master of Disguise (Turtle! Turtle!) the idea was to shut out the source of frustration or discomfort, whether school, family, loneliness. And there was a lot of loneliness. Music helped immensely. Always loud, always present, never let me down. It was mine, but I was willing to share control with the artists because I identified with them. Their music made me feel whole. 

Which brings me to this book:

METAL.

33 1/3 is brilliant in concept and clever in execution. The group sifts through reader proposals for albums to choose writers for slim, pocket-sized editions of analysis of landmark or classic albums. At the moment there are 86 of these. I've only read three because they're hard to find cheap, but I believe that John Darnielle's treatment of Black Sabbath's Master of Reality one of two or three in the series to be a piece of fiction, in journal form at that. 

Roger Painter finds himself in a mental health facility for teenagers, where he's denied his only desire: his metal tapes and Walkman. Instead, he's provided a journal, in which his initial hostility and anger give way to the clever idea to write meditations on his favorite album, Master Of Reality. In between, his thoughts on the record provide the clarity to approach the numerous family and life issues that earned him a trip to the facility. 

This is a fantastic plot idea, and seems like a natural extension of adolescent troubles. The volume is short, and the indirect nature of the narration might be more accessible to teenagers, who find a sympathetic peer figure in Roger, rather than an adult stranger who went through the same thing, but advocates nature walks and yoga. I think I know which option is most immediate and present in a student's life. Because of the record at the center of it all, this book won't appeal to everyone, but the universal message of trust in music and reconnecting with one's fractured youth cannot be ignored.

You look me in the eye and tell me that doesn't rock!

You might notice that most of the 1-star reviews on Amazon are from those who blindly bought the book as part of the 33 1/3 series, thinking they were going to get information on the production of the album and some historical context. These might be the same people who think The Onion is real news. 

Boring Stuff

Master Of Reality
John Darnielle
Continuum Press

Amazon

33 1/3 

Life Freaks Me Out...and then I write a lousy book about it

Sequel: Life Freaked Me Out, and then I dealt with it (reassuring secrets from a former living being)

I'm disturbed by this book. There are hundreds of advice books for teens* out there, an inordinate number of which feature a scribbled-on notebook, available for adolescents to read and glean some life advice from people who have been through the ringer and survived, or professionals who specialize in assisting people through thee tumultuous adolescent years. That's fine and dandy. The desire to help kids is noble; to want to work with students who have the deck stacked against them should earn a medal of honor. 

*Teens. I can't stand that word. When I hear people over the age of three use that word, I cringe. You know your friend who runs away screaming or goes fetal when you say the word moist? Teens is my moist. That sounds so wrong, but it's true, and I hate the world for it. 

The Search Institute, publisher of the book, employs (employed?) K.L. Hong, has a lofty statement of mission: 

"To provide catalytic leadership, breakthrough knowledge, and innovative resources to advance the health of children, youth, families, and communities."

Hot damn. I want to work there. Sort of. I'm wary of the Spiritual Development part of their services, which also was the most unnerving part of Hong's book itself. I get that people want to believe in a higher power and will pursue it on their own, and ought to be respectful of the beliefs of others, but there is some vague salesmanship going on in Hong's book - she continually refers to meditation, finding spiritual solace, and the "awe of nature" as remedies to her own troubles. Sounds harmless, but wait until you see what happens when the door-to-door peddlers enter your house. 

Hong relates her own adolescent experiences and how she learned from them to finally make peace with herself and her life as a 40-something. She goes into some detail, but not enough to convince me that she was as lost as the people her organization is trying to reach. What's that, Kay, you started smoking in high school as a stress reliever? My gosh! Look, I don't doubt her credibility, as she has become an adolescent mentor and seemingly knows how to talk to that crowd, and there is a lot of authenticity in the book, regarding her vocational search for career and meaning to life, and coming to terms with her father's death. I'm rubbed the wrong way by this book being published by her employer, which has a specific aim and mission, and some of the content.

Why she includes her disaster of a marriage does not fit into the purported theme of the book, or even its subtitle. "Reassuring secrets of a former teenager" doesn't necessarily invoke images of hasty marriage in one's twenties, although she could shoehorn it in under the rubric of decision-making without consideration of long-term consequences. So of course she tosses in the pre-frontal cortex thing. If the kiddo hasn't already been bludgeoned with this by their teachers, they get it in this book. In fact, they get a lot of what they probably already know, from a person who lets us in, but not all the way. We receive a general picture of her adolescent issues, but not enough to know her as a complete person. With at-risk and high-risk, that's everything. I won't trust you if I don't know the real you. How could she not make that commitment?

---

At this moment the book has seven 5-star reviews on Amazon. I am shocked. Let's take a look at some of them, just in case Hong's pals are giving it the full 5 for fun and misleading the naive reading public. 

"What I like about this book is that Kay Hong has that rare capacity of remembering what it was actually like being a teenager and being able to write about it in an honest and fresh way. "

Repeatedly writing that every day is a blessing, there's so much wonder in nature, and advising meditation and yoga as a cure-all for one's teenage angst may be honest, but it's as stale as the Namaste bumper sticker on your Prius.

"I thought that this book was written honestly and written well; and I'd recommend it."

Hey, thanks for the dizzying detail of insight, and the misuse of the semicolon. 

"K. L. Hong has written a book for teens in an adult voice that conveys true family values."

Adult voice: Yes. She writes to adolescents as her equal, much to her credit, but the sanitation detracts from the authenticity. True family values: So, you're not as much into helping kids in need as your are in getting across your political message. You may leave now. 

"Adolescents will relate strongly to her message and it will open a window into what their peers may be feeling and thinking that is rarely shared. It will help them feel less isolated. For adults it will give you a sense of re-experiencing what adolescents is really like and may provide you with a window into the lives of kids at this critical stage in development."

I firmly believe that adolescents will relate to her message, but only because that message is so general. Absent an actual person to talk with, this book would be a best last-ditch effort to help a kid who feels isolated, alone, helpless, but it's no replacement. Certainly, there are adolescents out there who won't seek face-to-face counsel, and this might be worthy of their time to discover that their situation is not wholly unique, but that it does belong to them, and that they possess the capability to take control despite contrasting, confusing feelings. 

I didn't feel the connection that these people did. I was left wanting, as if this book wasn't authentic enough for the YA crowd. There's no photo of the author in the book. Nothing about K.L. Hong on the web. There's a Kathryn L Hong who has co-written a half dozen books on relating to teenagers, but nothing more. I can't find a shred of anything about her on the Search Institute website, other than a couple blog entries. Where's the web presence? You're in an age where people want authenticity, and if they have any doubts, they can and will find out about you. Why wouldn't someone who markets themselves as a helping voice to youth be more active on the internet? No time? No ability? No desire? I don't like it. 

Perhaps the best way to gauge this book is to let the intended audience judge its merits. Somebody find me a place on the internet that does this. All of the reviews I've found are by adults (even this one!). How are we supposed to know that this book its target? I'd recommend it to my students, but at times it felt like the most agonizing 150 pages I'd ever read. Maybe it's because I've been through it already much of what's inside is not revelation. For me. 

Bottom line: It's standard teenage help with a poorly-disguised spiritual message which might be better consumed through fiction. 

Boring Stuff

Life Freaks Me Out: And Then I Deal With It
K.L. Hong
2005 Search Institute Press

Amazon