Quotes, Pics, and Clips VI

I’m resurrecting an installment I used to do, a bite-sized anthology of things I had recently seen or been thinking about in the various areas that interest me.  Here are the first five parts of this series: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V.

ARTS

Like him or not, it’s fun watching Jackson Pollock work:

EDUCATION

“The more computers we have, the more we need shared fairy tales, Greek myths, historical images, and so on….The more specialized and technical our civilization becomes, the harder it is for nonspecialists to participate in the decisions that deeply affect our lives.”  –E.D. Hirsch, Cultural Literacy, 1987.  (I highly recommend this great article about Hirsch’s new book.)

HUMOR

I’ve used this clip in Forensics and English 102 classes to make a point about the nature of debate and persuasion:

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE

Something I’ve been impressed by as I pick my way through this masterpiece is how Tolstoy dwells at intervals on both the honor and heroics of conflict as well as the strain and loss.  His vision is truly majestic.

“What’s this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way,” thought he, and

fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of

the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had

been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved.

But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky–the

lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds

gliding slowly across it. “How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all

as I ran,” thought Prince Andrew–”not as we ran, shouting and fighting,

not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry

faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide

across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky

before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity,

all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but

that. But even it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace.

Thank God!…”

–Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, Part III, chapter XVI

LIVING WELL

The older I get, the more I enjoy sports.  I’ve watched a lot of clips like this:

POLITICS AND SOCIETY

 ”The moment the idea is admitted into society that property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence. If `Thou shalt not covet’ and `Thou shalt not steal’ were not commandments of Heaven, they must be made inviolable precepts in every society before it can be civilized or made free.”

–John Adams, “A Defense of the American Constitutions,” 1787

RELIGION

I love this story, which I call “the parable of the kite.”  I’ve used it in teaching struggling disciples and my own children:

The second thing that has helped me receive these blessings is the principle of courageous obedience. I am so grateful for God’s gift of laws and commandments. Peace, hope, and direction are outcomes of striving to live the teachings of Jesus and obeying His laws and commandments. The scriptures teach, “Great peace have they which love thy law” (Ps. 119:165). They also teach that “he who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23).

While Brother Pinegar served as president of the Provo Missionary Training Center, as you can imagine, we often talked to the missionaries about the feelings of happiness and peace that accompany courageous obedience to true principles. We talked of the influence of the Holy Ghost that comes to those who are obedient. We encouraged the missionaries to make obedience their quest. I enjoyed telling them the story of the little boy who went to the park with his father to fly a kite.

The boy was very young. It was his first experience with kite flying. His father helped him, and after several attempts the kite was in the air. The boy ran and let out more string, and soon the kite was flying high. The little boy was so excited; the kite was beautiful. Eventually there was no more string left to allow the kite to go higher. The boy said to his father, “Daddy, let’s cut the string and let the kite go; I want to see it go higher and higher.”

His father said, “Son, the kite won’t go higher if we cut the string.”

“Yes, it will,” responded the little boy. “The string is holding the kite down; I can feel it.” The father handed a pocketknife to his son. The boy cut the string. In a matter of seconds the kite was out of control. It darted here and there and finally landed in a broken heap. That was difficult for the boy to understand. He felt certain the string was holding the kite down.

The commandments and laws of God are like the kite string. They lead us and guide us upward. Obedience to these laws gives us peace, hope, and direction.

–Patricia P. Pinegar, “Peace, Hope, and Direction,” October 1999 General Conference

The Las Vegas Children’s Book Festival

The Las Vegas Children's Book Festival, November 7, 2009

Yesterday, for the second year in a row, my wife and I took the kids to the annual Children’s Book Festival, sponsored by Target and part of the city’s larger Vegas Valley Book Festival. 

We agreed that out of all the local events we go to, this is our favorite. 

It’s held in the beautiful Centennial Plaza, which is hidden away downtown across the street from the federal courthouse, somehow all but invisible from the surrounding areas.  Parking was close, easy, free, and convenient.  Dozens of booths offered kids free books from charitable contributors, as well as private authors hawking their own excellent work, and crafts, gifts, and other activities thrown in for more fun.  Kids can get some free books, get their faces painted, and dance to the music piped in for the performers on a nearby stage. 

We got our gift bags and made the rounds, starting with a couple of free snow cones, and meeting some characters in costumes as we went.  My wife quickly found copies of the two volumes of The Chronicles of Narnia that we’re missing being given away.  There was an area off in one courtyard for the “grown up” authors and readers, where authors were doing readings and autographs.  The kids made bookmarks and coloring books at an arts and crafts booth.  A booth sponsored by UNLV gave away posters for their sports teams.  (I got three basketball posters–one for the boys’ room, one for my classroom, and one for my garage.) 

At the end of our tour was a stand giving out Hebrew National hot dogs.  We passed a great reproduction of the liberty bell on our way over.  As we sat by a water fountain in the shade for our lunch, a local children’s orchestra started playing.  The toppings available for our dogs even included jalapenos, and these were the sweetest ones I’d ever tasted.  

Two random children (possibly crazy people). Also, a big red dog.

I told my wife, “This is the kind of world I want my kids to grow up in,” then it got better: I noticed that the woman sitting next to us was wearing a T-shirt that said “Rearden Steel.”  I told her that I’m also a fan of Atlas Shrugged, and asked where she got the shirt.  She gave me a web site.  Here it is: www.johngaltgifts.com.

There were people there of many different races and ages, but clearly we all shared a love of reading.  There were plenty of people with multiple tattoos and piercings, but you know what?  I didn’t hear a single person swear.  Not once, the entire time.  Clearly, this cross-section of our diversity was the cream of the crop, the exceptions to my “judge a book by its cover” rule, and it made me happy that so much variety could exist when literacy and civility are the norm. 

Total cost of three hours of perfect family fun: zero dollars.

The weather was pleasant, the plaza was never crowded, and everything was spotless.  I hope this festival remains a secret.

Except for you.  I hope to see you there next year.  I’d like to enjoy this oasis of joy with my friends’ families. 

 

 

Star Wars Pun

Even in my long, storied career of making bad puns, this may well be the very worst:

Obi-want Kenobi and Lack Skywalker each got a chance to fight Dearth Vader.

 

My apologies.  This headache-inducer grew out of my attempt to illustrate to a class what “dearth” means.  I don’t think it was especially helpful.

Girls and Self Destruction

Every year after I teach Lord of the Flies–the classic novel about a bunch of young boys who crash on a tropical island and have to survive on their own–I point out to classes that the novel was inspired by the brutality of World War II, in which the author saw the worst aspects of humanity run amok.  In the novel, the boys form a mildly successful society for a while, with authority and chores, but it eventually degrades into savage anarchy and chaos–the author’s grim commentary on his lack of faith in human nature. 

Among other things, since the book is based on unchecked masculinity, I ask students to then consider how they think the book might have been different if a plane full of girls had crashed there, instead of boys.  Their answers always fall into two clearly demarcated camps.  The vast majority of boys, every year, say that stranded girls would just “have tea parties and paint each other’s toenails and stuff.”  Far more disturbing than this simple stereotyping, though, is what an even larger majority of girls almost always says: “No, they’d all kill each other by the end of the first day.” 

A pessimistic confession of their own burgeoning awareness of the social flaws inculcated into their gender?  Hardly.  That wouldn’t explain why most of the girls who say this tend to say it while laughing and smiling, almost proud of their prediction of massive failure.  They practically high five each other while saying it. 

How exactly have we apparently taught our young women to expect so little of themselves, in stark imitation of their masculine counterparts, to the point of competing with the boys for who can be the least successful?  I wonder if this is the dark side of social progress, a worrisome elephant in the room: As we have tried to encourage girls to be more assertive and involved in the public realm over the last few generations, have we inadvertently also magnified within them or brought to the front of their personalities those negative characteristics that we traditionally associate with young men–the violence, thoughtlessness, and nihilism that we’re warned about in Lord of the Flies?

Recommended: How To Read Literature Like a Professor

A couple of weeks ago I woke up and the first thing I thought about was Thomas Foster’s How To Read Literature Like a Professor.  Now, I had heard of this book and seen a copy when it came out in 2003, but hadn’t actually read it, or even thought about it since then.  

 

Who knows why neurons run around the way they do, or what makes certain synapses fire in any particular way?  I’ll never know what was going on in that blob of gray matter in my skull that morning that made it call to attention first thing upon awaking the title of an obscure book that I’d only tangentially encountered several years before.  

 

For whatever reason it happened, I found the thought strong and portentous enough to pick up a copy at the library.  

 

I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would, finding Foster’s explication of basic analytical tools phrased casually, but with enough clarity and examples to make it very useful.  My pride would like to say that I already knew everything that Foster pointed out, but the truth is that I learned a lot.  Though I did think of a lot of examples besides the ones he used, I discovered new approaches to favorite works (Joyce is one of his primary touchstones) and was introduced to works both classic and contemporary that I haven’t read yet, but now want to put on my to-do list.  

 

The chapters are all very short, and the first several are just to establish the biggest, most foundational aspects of narrative—quests, communion, etc.  As the book continues, he gives us simple, useful definitions for a couple of dozen literary devices, all accompanied by a few pitch-perfect examples, and all told in a friendly style that neither irritates with excessive “cuteness,” nor bores with pedantry.  Every so often, Foster throws out a pop culture reference or a slangy joke, but he doesn’t point neon signs at them, and he smoothly segues back into business.  He keeps the pace brisk and the tone breezy, yet still manages to include heaping helpings of trivia and typical English department jargon (the book ends with a fun little section called “envoi,” which he defines and then proceeds to give us a cheerful modern example, of his own creation).  All is as it should be.  

 

Yes, this should be required reading for all book clubs and lit. majors, but it should really be enjoyed by everyone who enjoys reading and wants to get as much out of it as possible.  Foster’s guide to analyzing literature is a success in every way a reader would want it to be.

 

Fair notice: I intend to steal some bits from the “test case” chapter for my own classes!

 

Hilary Hahn Can Write

I’ve praised virtuoso violinist Hilary Hahn here before, but in this post I want to applaud her for another great artistic skill: her writing.

Hahn keeps a journal on her website, where she blogs about touring and concerts, the classical music industry, travel, and some odd and obscure observations about the minute details of life she sees from her unique vantage point.

She is a very excellent writer.  I always enjoy checking out her little essays when I get a chance; my only complaint is that she doesn’t write more often (I’ve often been disappointed to see months at a time lag by without new material).  Her prose is a whimsical joy, her buoyant focus with the keyboard as evident as it is with string instruments.  Truly, talents tend to cluster, and Hahn is generously blessed with gifts in at least these two arts. 

Consider this excerpt from an August post:

I got a little carried away, I suppose, because I didn’t notice the microphone suspended overhead until the tip of my bow halted as if I had hit a wall. I knew immediately what had happened; I practically leaped back, shocked both at the bow suddenly jamming into my hand and at the crack that I heard from the speakers beyond the stage.

The next morning, in the paper, the review mentioned the airborne flock with the equivalent of a literary wink but griped that the burst of fireworks heard from across the park during my opening solo might have been better saved for another day.

Quirky, Perky, Goofy, Nerdy: New Videos Make Classic Lit Fun

Last night before an English 101 class, I grabbed a complimentary copy of USA Today off of a newsstand.  I thought I’d have a few minutes to kill near the end of class while the students did some peer editing, and I wanted to do a crossword puzzle.  The newsstand was out of the New York Times.

But when the time came and I was looking for the puzzle, I never got to it.  I found an article instead about a new Web site that had just launched.  I went to check it out and was both amused and impressed.

Our hostess is a quirky, perky, goofy, nerdy young lit major named Jenny, who takes viewers on a whirlwind tour of classic literature in a series of bite-sized videos.  The site, 60secondrecap.com, is a Cliff’s Notes for the text messaging generation.  They just got up and running, so their library will start building over time.  I looked at two of The Great Gatsby videos last night, and liked them enough to plan to use them in my high school classes for a fun review (if the overzealous school district server doesn’t block it first).  Hopefully she’ll get The Scarlet Letter and Lord of the Flies up by the time I’ll need them in a few weeks.

And Jenny, since your site says you take requests, any chance you’d consider doing something by Cormac McCarthy?

Report On Family Summer Book Club

Last summer we started a new ritual: each summer, we would choose a book for all of us to read each month.  I got the idea for this because my oldest kids are too old now for our old habit of family story times to be regular any more.  This helps takes the place of that.  We’d have someone take a turn picking a book as each month started, scrounge up several copies from local libraries, and have a discussion at the end of the month.

Last year I just picked the books, and we only got to do two: John Steinbeck’s The Pearl and Esther Forbes’s Johnny Tremain.  Everybody liked The Pearl, but we loved Johnny Tremain.  It was an amazing story about a boy’s coming of age during the Revolutionary War.  Seriously, why don’t schools make kids read that one anymore? 

This year we did three books.  Here’s how they went:

In June, my oldest daughter picked The Westing Game, a Newberry Medal-winning mystery that she’d read at school and loved.  We all thought it was excellent.  It was an extremely clever little puzzle book, well written and full of surprises, not the least of which are its many realistic, humane characters, and in a story appropriate for any young child!  I figured out some of the book’s puzzles, but a couple went right by me.  Here’s a hint for future readers: pay attention for compass directions. 

 

 

 

 

In July, my oldest son chose The 13th Reality: The Journal of Curious Letters.  We all enjoy fantasy, so this was a good fit.  It was another wholesome story, with strong characters that you care about, and as much fun and excitement as any novel can have.  My favorite part was that the hero’s father–usually absent or a problem in most children’s literature–was a normal, helpful, decent guy here, who even understood and supported his son in his adventure.  Very nice!

 

 

 

 

 

In August, my wife picked Orson Scott Card’s The Memory of Earth, the first book in his science fiction Homecoming series.  She’d had some other books by Card in mind, and wanted something with spiritual tones to it, but also something that would interest the kids.  To their credit, they figured out the parallel with the plot of the Book of Mormon very quickly.  Our discussion focused on comparing and contrasting the two, and how well Card’s story did or didn’t work in that context.  I, for one, just liked the inclusion of a pack animal called “kurelomi” in chapter two.  Clever, Orson. 

 

 

 

 

 

The Huston family summer book club is hereby adjourned until next June.

Reviewed: Watchers, by Dean Koontz

I picked up Midnight from a library shelf a couple years ago at random and absolutely loved it.  I’ve started a couple of other Dean Koontz books since then, but nothing has been nearly as good, and I haven’t bothered finishing them.  But I decided to end my summer with a fun, easy, puffball of a book, and I picked up Watchers. 

Koontz is not a very good writer, but he is a terrific storyteller.  (I cringe every time he flaunts the word “preternaturally” as an all purpose spooky adjective–as he did twice in this book–and I pretend he’s doing it on purpose when his characters converse in speeches more stilted than in an old Disney movie.  Still, he knows how to pace a plot, that’s for sure.)

I liked Watchers.  Like Midnight, there is suspense and even violence, but it rarely punches below the belt and always affirms individual dignity and even glory, and does so in a very traditional, and often outright spiritual, context.  Despite the menacing cover, the title is not referring (as I first assumed) to some voyeuristic spies that the good guys must overcome with their open, honest virtue.  No, the title actually refers directly to those Apollonian protagonists themselves: at one emotional point near the end, a character says, “We have a responsibility to stand watch over one another, we are watchers, all of us, watchers, guardians against the darkness.” 

Yes, Dean Koontz is the novelistic equivalent of Thomas Kinkade as a painter–much glossy romanticizing in an idealized world (though to make the analogy more apt, Kinkade’s quaint village cottages would have to also be under assault by genetically enhanced killers produced by shadowy collectivist governments who are ultimately dispatched by a sympathetic band of rugged, clean-shaven regular joes who come together to weather the storm)–but so what?  I like Thomas Kinkade paintings, too.  Kinkade and Koontz make pleasant places. 

 

Final Grade: B

Ave Atque Vale: Dr. Jeffrey Michael Stitt

I just got an email informing me of the passing of longtime UNLV professor Dr. J. Michael Stitt.  Though I’d seen Mike at several department meetings at the beginning of semesters, my main memories of him will be from the class I had him for as an undergrad.  Here’s the comment I left in this guest book:

Dr. Stitt was an inspiration to me as a student and as a teacher: his lectures flowed from his vast love and knowledge of his subject. I only had him for one class–Mythology–but his skill at telling stories sucked me in. I’ll always remember his summary of the evolution of mythology: the further north you go, the more violent the mythology gets. Thus my interest in Norse mythology, courtesy of good Dr. Stitt. And when I teach now, I try to tell stories the same way he did. Thank you, sir.

My condolences go out to his family.  He was a great guy and a great teacher; we lost him too soon. 

Consider honoring him by reading some stories from Norse and Celtic mythology.

Visual aids for A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I taught this great play last week for a few reasons: students tend to be exposed to Shakespeare’s tragedies to the exclusion of the comedies, it’s short and accessible, and it’s timely (check the title against the calendar).  It was a big hit, but I noticed that kids got a little lost with the names and plot pretty quickly, so we worked out the following charts for each act.  The charts show who loves whom.  Looking at them now, I think these might make good advertisements for the play–doesn’t looking at these make you want read the actual story in the play (or re-read it)?  Actually, looking at these reminds me of Melrose Place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Take refuge in nature, labour, sleep, music, or human understanding”

“How intense can be the longing to escape from the emptiness and dullness of human verbosity, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labour, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!”

–Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

Blogjet d’art

The infancy of the electronic age has been accompanied by instant and ubiquitous prognosticating about the inevitable advent of online art.  What I wonder is this: when will the first great work of literature first appear online?  When scholars and schools of the future look back on the 21st century and study our contribution to the canon, will the early works of earthshattering, breathtaking prose have been things that appeared self-published online, or in an e-zine, or even, dare I wonder, on a blog?

When will a generation of writers break new ground in marrying the form of the medium to its content as, say, Dickens did with his serialized works, or Cervantes did when he wrote a second part to Don Quixote responding to unauthorized “sequels,” or Joyce did by integrating news headlines into Ulysses?  What will it look like when someone starts finding the perfect marriage of the World Wide Web’s visual layout and the untapped abilities of text that it might uncover?  When will we see a powerful vision of HTML and prosody commingled?  Will it be a cheap novelty at first?  Will it be scorned–or ignored–by the establishment, only to be appreciated by our grandchildren? 

Is it already out there?  Or will it somehow never be?  No, sooner or later, the Great American Blog will surface.  (Perhaps the Great American Text Message?  Or even the Great American Tweet?  OK, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.) 

I’ve seen some wonderful writing online, but nothing that wouldn’t work just as well, or even better, on the printed page.  I don’t know exactly what I’m wishing for, but it’s more than just text in a fancy font or with some jazzy animation or backgrounds.  I guess that’s the thing about watershed events: you just can’t predict them until some genius has actually done it.  If you could, then it would already be done. 

So I’ll continue to wade through the Slough of Des-blog, seeking a great new work of literary achievement.  Until then, I can always read Shakespeare.

Whither the Classics In Mass Market Paperback?

I own a mass market paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath, but only because a teacher who was retiring a few years ago left it on a table in our work room with a note saying that his books were free for us to take. 

I own a mass market paperback copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls, but only because I found it left on the floor after a meeting once, and nobody responded to my email asking the rightful owner to come pick it up. 

I own a mass market paperback copy of The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, but only because I bought it a year before Oprah picked it for her book club, after which it has only been available as a more costly trade paperback. 

That last one, I think, is the key to understanding why so many great classics are no longer available in mass market paperback and, indeed, haven’t been for some years.  The cheap, durable, accessible mass market paperback started going the way of the dodo, as I recall, in the mid nineties, just as things like $5 cappuccinos at Starbucks were becoming trendy.  See where I’m going with this?  As our society’s appetite for overpriced luxuries reached its fever pitch, we also acquired a tolerance–even a demand–for fancy, expensive versions of things that had previously been more common and affordable. 

Try this: go to Amazon.com and search for “Sound and the Fury mass market paperback.”  Look at the years next to the entries that come up.  Sad. 

Recommended Reading: The Deluxe Transitive Vampire

When I teach grammar, I try to come up with attention-grabbing example sentences.  The ones that come in textbooks are notoriously dull (“The person went to the place to get the thing.”), so I want to juice it up a bit and inject a bit of my trademarked brand of life into what most folks see as a dreadfully lame subject. 

Here are two examples of standard favorites in my classes:

I kicked the freshman. 

“Freshman” receives the action of the verb “kicked,” so it is the direct object.

I threw Paris Hilton a live grenade. 

What did I actually throw?  Paris Hilton?  Good gravy, no.  That would require touching her.  No, I threw a grenade.  That makes “grenade” the direct object.  Paris Hilton received the direct object, making her the indirect object.  And, hopefully, soon to be an irritating, repressed memory. 

This demonstration shares a bit of the twisted humor of Karen Elizabeth Gordon’s classic grammar “textbook,” The Deluxe Transitive Vampire: The Ultimate Handbook of Grammar for the Innocent, the Eager, and the Doomed.  Gordon’s approach is to present clear, sprightly explications of general grammatical matters with examples that tend to be about supernatural, nocturnal creatures interacting in the prosaic lives of hapless mortals of a dizzying variety of idiosyncratic bents.  (The book never makes this explicit, but I suppose the title character is meant to represent the fact that a transitive verb, like a vampire, only functions when it has an object upon which to act.  Cute, yes?)

I labor intensively, ripping asunder the very dendrites of my brain in Herculean attempts to come up with more than few clever example sentences in class; Gordon has filled an entire book where every page presents at least a few laugh-out-loud such sentences.

Examples:

• The robot designated the dentist his partner.
• There are five more cupcakes than we have frosting for; I’ll leave them for that loner by the river.
• Sophie, abandoning her rented canoe, exchanges pleasantries in the shade with a newt.