Reading Racist Books To My Kid

I ran in to a hiccup at bedtime. It wasn’t actually the first time I’ve run into this particular hiccup, but it got me thinking.

Almost every night, I read to my son. It’s great, for all the usual reasons. He gets to discover characters and worlds I loved as a kid, or we discover wonderful new ones. He hears the stories that helped teach me things about bravery, honesty, loyalty, determination, or silliness. We’ve heard from some titans of children’s literature: Roald Dahl is wonderful to read out loud. C.S. Lewis’s Narnia Chronicles are better than I remember them: the moral choices children make in his stories are valuable discussion starters for father-son talks about responsibility, consequences, kindness, and listening to your conscience.

But then… at bedtime… there are passages like this.

Cover art from the version I read as a kid.
Turbans and scimitars. Source

From The Horse and His Boy:
"This boy is manifestly no son of yours, for your cheek is as dark as mine but the boy is fair and white like the accursed but beautiful barbarians who inhabit the remote North [meaning Narnia].” (Chapter 1) C. S. Lewis. The Horse and his Boy (Kindle Locations 79-80). HarperCollins. HOLD ON! So... C.S. Lewis believes dark people are ugly? Am I reading this right?

"The next thing was that these men were not the fair-haired men of Narnia: they were dark, bearded men from Calormen, that great and cruel country that lies beyond Archenland across the desert to the south." C. S. Lewis. Last Battle (Kindle Locations 263-264). San Val, Incorporated.

Yes, the Calormenes, from Calormen, across the desert south of Narnia, worship the cruel god Tash (with hints of human sacrifice). They feature in The Last Battle and The Horse and His Boy and they are clearly coded as Muslims: they are dark-faced, wear turbans, and wield scimitars. They are also described as cruel and exploitative. Oh... and some Dwarves mock them by calling them "Darkie.” And in case you thought you could omit a few details and remove the racial coding... they're drawn on the cover of the version I read as a kid. No getting around it.

The Silver Chair's treatment of the character Jill Pole in particular falls into many old tropes about what girls are and aren't, can and can't do.

Cover art of the version I read as a kid.
Source.

Roald Dahl, whom we’d been reading before reading Narnia, had this buried in Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator:

'It is very difficult to phone people in China, Mr President,' said the Postmaster General. 'The country's so full of Wings and Wongs, every time you wing you get the wong number.' (Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator (Kindle Locations 302-303).

When they do call someone in China... their names are Chu-On-Dat and How-Yu-Bin, and they address the president as Mr. Plesident. Yeah. Roald Dahl went there. Just skip Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, folks. As sequel letdowns go, it gives Jaws: The Revenge and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull a run for their money.

So what do we do about this?

Some Love for BoA...

And Maurice Sendak...

The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind...

and another...

his mother called him "Wild thing!"

and Max said

so he was sent to bed without eating anything.

That's all I could think the first time I saw this video.


(my kid loves that book)

Sure, why not? Ten Books that Rocked My World

The Korean, and my buddy Danielle posted on this. May as well weigh in, because I like books. I notice with dismay that none of these books made it onto my radar more recently than my first year in Korea - six years ago. That's too long no not have my mind totally blown by a book. Don't know what's happening. The ones that came closest in the last five years were probably... Dune (Frank Herbert), Coraline (Neil Gaiman), "The Quick and Easy Way to Effective Speaking" (Dale Carnegie another great teacher in writing), and the Tao Te Ching.

1. Ahead of All Parting: The Collected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke, Translated by Stephen Mitchell - This was the book I carried with me everywhere for about three years. I first read The Duino Eulogies and the Sonnets To Orpheus before I had any idea what they were really about, but they reached a deep part of me that hadn't been awakened yet. When my mom died, that part of me woke up into grief, and Rilke was my counsellor: while other friends saw me though my grief, Rilke taught me how to grieve.

2. The Catcher in the Rye/Franny and Zooey - JD Salinger: catcher in the rye is an amazing portrait of a person who hasn't quite figured out yet how to take his sensitivity and perceptiveness, and use it to fall hopelessly in love with the world... but he's on the cusp. Franny and Zooey's last five pages make me happy for a week, and have put me to rights a number of times when I've been depressed. But you have to read the whole book for the last five pages to mean anything.

3. The Art of Happiness - The Dalai Lama - this book is not only applicable to Buddhists; the Dalai Lama makes sure to teach only principles that are universally applicable in this one, and does it in style. He's the best teacher in writing, that I've ever read.

4. The Book of Job - The Bible - stark, harsh, this is the most difficult book in the bible, and the one that lays bare the lonely, starkness of grief and tragedy most powerfully.

5. The Annie Dillard Reader - Annie Dillard - whenever I open this book, I look a little more closely, live a little more mindfully, for about a week.

6. Ender's Game/Speaker For The Dead - Orson Scott Card - Dune was the best written, Asimov's Foundation books were the most thought provoking, but Ender's first two books were the most compelling to me, personally: Ender is an everyman portrayed with compassion and sympathy, and Orson Scott Card creates a world that resembles the real world: one where people don't do bad things because they're fundamentally evil, but because they think they're doing what's right, and they happen to be incorrect, or misinformed, or lacking perspective.

7. Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak - The movie was OK, but nothing will ever take the place of the book. I remember being fascinated and haunted by this book when I found it in the library as a kid, and then fifteen years later, in university, a friend had it on his shelf, and before I even picked it up, I knew this was the book that had stuck in my head for a decade. Only had two or three other "aha!" moments like it in my life.

8. Haroun and the Sea of Stories - Salman Rushdie - One of the very few books I'd recommend just as enthusiastically to a university professor as to a twelve-year-old bookworm. Witty, charming, fantastical, and full of the life Rushdie infuses his other books with, but without the sometime pretension.

9. Mirrored Minds: A Thousand Years of Korean Verse - trans. by Kevin O'Rourke - Kevin O'Rourke translates a group of Korean poems from a huge variety of different poets. Some are shockingly beautiful, and the spareness of these poems - putting so much philosophy, or sensuality, into three or five lines -- cured me of the wordiness of many English poets.

10. The Harry Potter Series - My enjoyment of these books peaked at about book 4, and bottomed out in the last fifty pages of book 7 (see here for the rundown of why); after that, I kind of started hating Harry, and thinking he was a sort of a dick of a role model for kids. But the first four books especially are absolutely awesome.

Back in Korea!

Hey there all. You missed your chance to loot my apartment: I'm back in Korea, after a pretty epic trip. The plane from Toronto to Tokyo hit a snag: the incoming flight was late, so they turned over the cabin a little too quickly, and forgot to drain the sewage tanks. By about halfway through the flight, half the toilets in the cabin weren't flushing, and by the end of the flight, only two or three were, and poop-smell started filling the cabin.

Meanwhile, I managed to stock up on all the items I really needed, including three nice pairs of pants that fit my butt properly, as pants made for Canadian butts do.

Plus, in keeping with my zombie theme all through June, I found a great new title at Wendel's bookstore in Fort Langley: Pride and Prejudice...And Zombies!
It's hilarious, because the comedy of manners remains just as mannered as ever, but the art of being a refined and accomplished person of taste now suddenly encompasses the proper, ladylike manner of holding a killing sword, and the art of musketry carries as much weight as being well-versed in the modern languages.

I'll be cluttering up these pages with a few reflections of some of the interesting posts I've been unable, or uninclined to comment on during my vacation, and also a lot of pictures, so stay tuned. I'm back.

And, coming soon: my Bollywood kick!

Rob

Here's a story about how dumb I am.

Soundtrack: hit play and start reading. Sammy Davis Jr.

mr. bojangles. One of my favourite songs.

My mouth is frozen from a dentist's appointment, and I'm sitting in the doorway of a coffee shop by Piano Street in Jongno, because it suddenly started dumping rain; it looks like it might be one of those twenty-minute showers, so I'm going to try and wait it out before I decide I need to make an umbrella-free run for my school and get a case of saggy-wet-t-shirt-itis. Blast you, Danielle, you office harpy, for talking me out of bringing my umbrella with me to Gwanjang Market for Kalkuksu. Blast you with Thor's mighty hammer. (Don't worry. She thinks it's funny when I talk to her like that. In her mind, she might well be living in a Victorian Farce.)

A few things:

I love the way the word "piss" is used in the U.K.; it's so much better than the way we NoAms use it.

North Americans use it to tell someone to go away, as a term of derision, or to mean upset:
"piss off" or "this beer tastes like piss" "that's a piss-poor excuse for skipping out on our meeting" "we were pissed off when the ticket prices were higher at the box-office than they were advertised in the poster". It can also mean extremely drunk: "he was piss-drunk" or "we got so pissed last night"

However, the U.Keeners use it in a much more interesting way (to me -- maybe they're amused by how NoAms use the word):
Taking a piss means joking. "Are you taking a piss?"
Piss-take means a prank or joke "I read the article and started to get upset, but then I realized it was April Fool's day, and the whole story was just a big piss-take.
Take the piss out of X means teasing X, quite a lot.

I used to have a roommate who was a proper Brit, through and through, from a little town called Preston. Nice guy. Really classy.


(These are from a halloween party. They're on facebook, so he's already ok with the fact the whole internet can see these pics; however, I'm not publishing his name here. If you know it, kindly don't mention it in the comments. . .) Despite the pictures, I'm quite serious that Englebert was classy as anything, and one of the best roommates I've had. Top three, for sure, and one of the nicest guys to hang out with, fun as heck, until he got so drunk his legs stopped working.

Anyway, he had a cool way of using the English language that was different than we Canadians. Once, our friend was sick, and he said, "Oh, she's a bit gentle today," which I liked.

(this Canuckistani accent is a bit more Prairie than Vancouver, but it'll have to do).


Anyway, one day, a student invited me to his house for lunch, and during lunch, I talked about my cooking ability: I cook a few things very well, a lot of stuff alright, but the one thing I constantly bungle (bad one to bungle in Korea) is rice. I always put in too much water, or not enough, cook it too long or too short, or too hot or too cool, so it's scorched or crunchy or both. A while later, that same student teased me in class about my inability to get rice right.

Later, I was talking to my classy roomie, and my excellent Irish coworker Lorraine, and because both of them were from that region (warning: never mistake Ireland for being part of the U.K.; that's like calling Canada the fifty-first state, except with 600 years of oppression mixed in. Northern Ireland is part of the UK, but the Republic of Ireland is a sovereign state), I figured I'd try to speak in their style, you know, to show my cosmopolitan flair. Except in my excitement over using the phrase (and despite having used it properly numerous times before and since), I just right bungled it that day.

I should have said, "My student Willy really took the piss out of me today for not being able to cook rice." Would have been totally acceptable.

Instead, I said, "My student Willy took a piss on me because I can't cook rice."

(Hopefully, that three seconds of idiocy will not now undermine all my heretofore unassailed (snicker) credibility as an essayist and Korea blogger, and will be taken instead as an example of my ability to laugh at myself, a feature I consider helpful in life [see point 3].)

Back to botching idioms: that's why I tell my Korean students, "Don't waste your time learning English slang and idioms well enough to use them -- increase your vocabulary instead." Using slang and idioms is high-risk, no-reward, because if you use it wrong, you look stupid, but if you use it perfectly, it fits into the conversation so seamlessly your conversation partner won't even notice you've used it. Nobody ever stops a conversation to comment, "Hey! Great saying! That was the perfect idiom for this situation!" Learn slang well enough to understand it when it's used by others, but don't waste your time trying to incorporate slang seamlessly into your lexicon. Stumbling to find the right word will bog a conversation down, more than using perfect idiom will improve it, so improve your vocabulary instead of your slang, and speak as simply as possible.

Also to my Korean readers: if you know some slang, don't twist the conversation around just so you can use the phrases you memorized. I once had a lunch with another student's mother, and she was a chatterbox, constantly apologizing for her (quite good) English (another pet peeve -- don't apologize; just talk), and twisting the conversation to lob her idioms into the chat like hand grenades.

For example:
Mom: (changing the topic out of the blue) Do you think I'm speaking politely enough?
Me: Sure. You don't have to worry about that with me.
Mom: (pounds table with open hand) LET'S NOT STAND ON CEREMONY!!!!!! (does 'look what I did!' grin, like a kid who hit a bulls-eye on her first try)
Me: Pfffft! (nearly empties mouthful of cola into lap)

High comedy.

From the Hire a Proofreader, Nimrod! files: at my own school. . .

Drinks come in really small cans here: it's nice, sometimes, when you aren't that thirsty, and once you pop the top, you just can't stop (that's why I prefer screw-cap drink bottles: you can close it up and finish it later if you want). But the small portions are nice, too.
Especially compared to North American drink sizes.
(from google images)

Climbed a mountain with these people last weekend. They were really fun, and we laughed a lot.
The starbucks had stuffed "bear-istas" you could buy, which seemed like a cool celebration of Starbucks' new international ubiquity. . .

The problem was, unless the barrista uniforms they wear are totally unique to Korea, there was nothing about these bears that was Korean except the word "Korea" on the flag they held. Something about across-the-board uniformity could, doubtless be said here, but I'll leave it at this: unless the bear smelled like garlic, (Korea's origin myth involves a tiger and a bear hiding in a cave and eating only garlic for 100 days) there's really nothing Korean about it except the word on the flag.Went to Ganghwa Island, where seagulls follow the ferries to eat the shrimp snacks people throw at them. Boy they were fun. And I enjoyed watching them fly, because Jonathan Livingston Seagull is one of the better "read-it-in-one-sitting" books I've come across.

In fact, like "Full Metal Jacket," if the second half had been anywhere near as good as the first half, it would have been on my top five books of all time. Unfortunately, the second half of JLS (starting about when Jonathan meets The Great Seagull) kind of drifts off into some weird, mystic left-field. It starts as a beautiful metaphor for the pursuit of excellence, and finishes off in some kind of messianic non-sequiteur that doesn't quite ring true to me. That said, the first forty pages or so comprise one of the most beautiful parables I've ever read, full of poetry, simple wisdom, and great seagull photography.

People were holding up chips, and the seagulls were snatching them right out of their hands.

Even this little kid go in on the action.
It was also cool seeing one snatch a tossed chip out of the air.

All right. that's enough for now. Until I get a better camera (and maybe even after that), I've decided to set my filter a little higher, and only publish the better pictures I take, instead of just publish all the pictures I take.

Anybody out there who can recommend a reliable camera with decent battery life, that fits into a pocket? I don't mind dishing out some coin for something I can count on, and I'm not looking for anything too complex, but a few features (like that foreground focus one where you can hold the button half-way down to keep the focus, and then adjust the picture's composition before taking the picture), compact size, good battery life (girlfriendoseyo's camera is ALWAYS running out of battery life - that's why I'd prefer one that takes AA's over one that needs to be plugged in to recharge) and a big memory card would be nice. So, uh, let me know. Especially if you want me to start posting better pictures, eh?

Later, blogosphere! I need to get ready for my one year anniversary with Girlfriendoseyo now.

My Hero.

My Mom's dad (we call him Opa, the Dutch word for grandfather) has made one of the main tasks of his retirement to write a family history. He started off with the life story of HIS father (my grandfather), which he published at a little, family publishing house (the kind of place that prints out genealogies and small-scale projects) to hand out to his kids and grandkids. I received my copy when I was sixteen, and (being sixteen) had no clue yet of the importance of roots and heritage. Too busy finding out who I was, I didn't have time to wonder about where I was from yet.

The man himself: my hero, Opa Boonstra:


Later, I worked for two summers as a guide at a heritage museum, and started to learn about the importance of history, and what a resource our elders are, simply through the stories that have given their lives meaning. I spent two summers hearing older folks come through the museum talking about who they were, and how things are changing, and what still stays the same. Sure, these thoughts are nothing you can't find in Thornton Wilder's "Our Town," but it's amazing how the technology, the methods, and the setting change so dramatically, but we human beings are STILL just trying to figure out who we are and what we're doing, struggling to connect, to know and be known, and to feel like our lives were worth something, carving out a place in this world, like writing our names in water (kudos to John Keats for that one).

I read that book finally when I was about twenty-four, just a little while before we found out my mom had stomach cancer. I was touched and moved by what, ultimately, read (to me) as a tender and admiring tribute to my Opa's father. What a blessing for the whole family, that we can have that story written down, as a piece of our heritage, that those stories will not be forgotten in time. It was an act of love for my grandfather to write a history of his father, both for his father, and for his children and grandchildren: he gave us the gift of knowing where we are from (or at least being able to).

Here in Korea, families have amazing, long genealogies -- during the Korean war, one of my students told me how, as his family escaped their burning house in North Korea, fleeing the approaching Communist Troops, his grandfather ran back into the house to rescue the family genealogy. I shook my head in wonder, and he told me "It goes back thirty generations". Cripes!

North America, because of the immigrant culture, doesn't really think too much of Genealogies -- especially when a lot of people are like my sister-in-law: "Irishambodiargentinianativenglisherpa" or, as she charmingly says, "Heinz 57". At best in North America, unless your progenitor rode the mayflower, genealogies are a hobby. However, in reading my Grandfather's memoir, I realized that for many Canadians, especially second or third generation immigrants, the story of "How We Came To Canada" (or America) is as important a part of our self-stories as Koreans' "Your five-times-great grandfather served in the court of King Wi-na, but was executed during a purge when the next king took the throne". In that respect, as my friend Tamie says, I bow to my grandfather's effort to keep our family story alive, to make sure it is not forgotten in the past, as those who experienced it die away.

The memoir includes stories of living through the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, and in the second volume, my Oma (grandmother) tells her story, too, and shares the fear her family felt when her father went off to fight the Nazis, and went several weeks unaccounted for. I read how my mother was born, how they built their first house in stages, as they worked off the previous home-builder's bank loan and more funds became available to them (basement first, then frame, then electricity, septic tank? Grab a shovel! etc..)

I thank my grandparents for writing this down, committing it to paper, so that it will not be forgotten.

And for everyone who wonders whether the things they do to help others matter at all, here is an excerpt from early memories of my Grandmother's grandfather:

"Later on when [my Oma's] Opa had his own shoe shop, he would not charge people if they could not pay. People held him in great regard for that. When I (Marijke) was visiting in Shalom Manor [an old-age residence with many Dutch immigrants] in 2005, I met Mrs. Zeldenrust, who lived in Hoogkerk many years ago and had known Tante Grietje [my grandmother's aunt, I believe]. Mrs. Zeldenrust's son told me about Opa's generousity and how peope appreciated that. I was amazed to hear that story forty-one years after his death."

Forty-one years after his death, people still remember his acts of kindness and generousity. Sure, "Nazi Week" will garner more ratings on the Discovery Channel than "The Friendly Cobbler," but, dear readers, kindness IS noticed, and remembered, whether it's ever mentioned back to you or not.

My man Jesus said, "Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is , there your heart will be also."

My personal favourite kindness CAN make a difference moment:



Les Miserables: a gracious act by the Bishop pulls a life out of the gutter and redeems a character who'd given up on himself; Jean Valjean goes on to become the greatest of grace-givers, thanks (though he might never have found out) to a kindness done by a bishop who'd been robbed, and would have been within his rights to send our man Jean back up the river where he came from.

(read the book. knocked my socks off. just read it -- Jean Valjean is one of my favourite characters anywhere, because of the way he incarnates grace to everyone around him)

Preach it.

Books that become old friends, some shameless begging, and a game of "spot the intentional error"

Sometimes you come across a book that will become an old friend -- one that you buy in hardcover, because you know you will read it often enough to justify having a well-bound copy.

Because I change apartments frequently, it is important to try and keep my book collection small: books take up a lot of space and weight, especially if you ever move between Canada and Korea.

Here is my list, in no particular order (other than the order in which they came to mind, which says something in itself).

The Little Prince - Antoine de St.Exupery
Haroun and the Sea of Stories - Salman Rushdie
Ahead of All Parting - The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke - trans. by Stephen Mitchell
New American Standard Bible - breast pocket edition
The Annie Dillard Reader
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzerald
The Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
Franny and Zooey - JD Salinger
Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett
Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
Speaker For The Dead - Orson Scott Card
Mirrored Minds: A Thousand Years of Korean Verse - trans. by Kevin O'Rourke
Tao Te Ching - Lao Tsu (my translation is by Sam Hamill, and highly recommended.
The Art of Happiness - Dalai Lama and another guy.
Several of John Keats' best poems.
(with pride:)
Coraline - Neil Gaiman
Batman: the Dark Knight Returns - Frank Miller
Batman: the Dark Knight Strikes Again - Frank Miller


Others that nearly made the list, or are somewhere in an anthology on my shelf, etc:
The Collected Short Fiction of Flannery O'Connor
Hamlet - Victor Hugo
E.E. Cummings - Selected Poems
Oedipus Rex - Sophocles (I once tried to write an essay on this one, and after reading it, was so impressed I didn't want to write about it: I just wanted to read it to people instead.)
amazingly enough
The Iliad - Homer (translated by Robert Fagles - thought it would be dusty and dry, but this translation is vivid, visceral, and quite stirring!)
The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway
Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstein

painfully absent:
Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak

if my apartment building burnt down, I'd grieve the loss of some irreplaceable things, particularly some photos, old drafts of old poems, and the painting my best friend Melissa made for me, but those are the books I'd buy again.

For a guy who loves reading and storytelling as much as me, that list is pretty darn short!


But the reason I'm writing about this is because I just reread Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card
(Ender's Game, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, The Catcher in the Rye, Rilke, The Little Prince, Mirrored Minds, and the Tao Te Ching are the books end up off the shelf and in my hands most often)

My friend Tamie wrote on her blog that Seymour, from JD Salinger's works, is the fictional character she'd most like to meet.

I'm gonna add to that list, the Little Prince, and Ender Wiggin, the protagonist of Ender's Game and Speaker For The Dead.

Here's why:

Ender's story touches me deeply, because I really feel like he is the most human, most representative everyman I've ever read. He contains the genius, the potential, and the sorrow, the compassion and the viciousness, the insight and the need for redemption, that made the human condition so baffling, and all these features are displayed believably and compassionately in a character that is so human, I feel like I know him. I don't want to give away any plot points if you haven't read the books, but Ender's flawed, confused greatness is the most touchingly human portrayal I've ever seen of a protagonist in a book.

I highly, highly, highly recommend you read Ender's Game, and Speaker For The Dead: they will teach you something about compassion and healing, in a more profound way than you'd ever think, given that it's a pair of science fiction books. I think maybe there are some things that we can only learn from stories. The Talmudic Tradition, and Jesus, were onto something there.

(My other favourite everymen (everyhumans) are Holden Caulfield (Catcher In The Rye), and, though he's a little too perfect, is Jean Valjean. I love him, but I don't feel like I know him, the way I do with Ender.)

If you want to know why I love Catcher in the Rye, and especially Holden Caulfield, so much, ask.



PS: It's my birthday on Monday. I feel kind of bad doing this, but here's a low-grade, and low-class call out:

(shameless begging for my friends in Canada to send me something that can't be found in Korea. . . more shameless begging for my friends in Canada to send me something that can't be found in Korea. . .more shameless begging for my friends in Canada to send me something that can't be found in Korea. . .)

. . . please? If you really want, I'll send you some compensation.




(just in case this wasn't shameless enough already. . . )

This begging can be used as wallpaper, too.


so, uh, enough of that.

what books are YOUR best friends?

I'm about halfway through this, but. . .

Holy cow you gotta read this book! I don't care what your upbringing or background is, everybody on the planet can learn from the Dalai Lama.


I finished it now . . .

his teaching is rooted in ancient traditions, yet profoundly practical, and immediately applicable to real life. Reading this guy was like having a light switched on -- he teaches such deep wisdom, so simply, in ways that translate directly into my own situations. He explains a twenty-five century old principle, and than shows me how I can apply it to the guy who drives through the crosswalk right in front of me. (And yes, I HAVE been using his techniques at crosswalks. . . and they've helped. He probably added a month to my life just like that, by nipping that tension in the bud.) Give this dude a try. Right now, he's on the shortlist with Rainer Maria Rilke, J.D. Salinger, and Jesus as the greatest teachers I've ever read.

Rare air up there!

Blogger action day

*** This is important.***
Tomorrow (the 15th) is blog action day. A group is trying to get every blogger around the world to write, on the 15th, about the environment, one of the most pressing issues for my generation. If you have a blog, click the link and join in! I'm kind of jumping the gun talking about it here, but this is important, and as time goes by, I feel more and more strongly about this.

http://www.blogactionday.com/


Radiohead has a new album out online.

So far, after listening to it about five times, I'm quite disappointed -- it's the first Radiohead album where I really feel like they're not covering any territory they haven't covered better before. The reduces the list to Pixar as the only creative team that I know a lot about, and still haven't repeated themselves/released anything below top-notch. (I haven't seen enough Miyazaki to say for sure about his work.)

The list:
Let-downs:
what movie/album did you expect to love the most, only to be disappointed?
Personal nominees: Radiohead: In Rainbows; Shaft (with Samuel L. Jackson); X-Men 3 (should have seen that coming), The Constant Gardener, Braveheart, Harry Potter 6 and 7,


next:
Pleasant Surprises:
What movie/album did you have full intention to hate, only to discover it was actually much more enjoyable than it needed to be?
Personal Nominees: Legally Blonde, High School Musical, Nelly Furtado (Whoa Nelly), Green Day (American Idiot), Sahara (action movie with Matthew McConaughey), Transformers, the Movie


Next:

Anyone here read The Alchemist?
One of you -- one of the people in my circle -- recommended it to me, but I can't remember which of you did.

Well, I read it. I've discovered the formula to sell a million copies of a book.

1. Short -- should be readable in a single afternoon, maximum two sittings.
2. Male hero -- young, idealistic, big dreams
3. Maximum 6th grade reading level (if it has a lower level than that, it will appeal to second language learners, which is also a plus: you'd be amazed how many times I've seen a Korean reading "Tuesdays With Morrie" on the subway)
4. A thinly veiled moral/didactic lesson/inspiration about how to live your life and realize your dreams.
5. A tone like a fable -- story moves quickly, and does not dig too deeply into the concrete details of setting and place and character description -- characters and settings are portrayed in broad strokes, so as not to distract from The Message.

I've read at least a half dozen of these books now, ranging from sublime (The Little Prince) to abysmal (Tuesdays With Morrie -- sorry if any of you liked it, but I didn't.) I've heard I REALLY, MUST read The Secret next. I'm kind of dreading it.

In order of awesomeness, here is the Roboseyo (sometimes)overbearingly-inspirational reading list.
1. The Little Prince: I think I'd trade 20 years of my life to write a book as simple and wise as this one. Die young + write The Little Prince: I could deal with that. The least didactic of the books on this list. It almost doesn't qualify for the genre, because it's too good.
2. Siddhartha - Herman Hesse -- engaging story. Not too didactic, though it IS about a young idealist's spiritual journey.
3. The first half of Jonathan Livingston Seagull -- chase down excellence and perfection with passion, even if it isolates you. Nice.
4. The Alchemist -- I liked it. It's true. It dropped in some biblical references that were a bit cloying, but not too bad. I wasn't quite bowled over, but I liked it.
5. The Greatest Salesman In The World -- (the least known of the ones I've read) by Og Mandino-- the most didactic, but enjoyable reading, for a bald self-motivation tract with a tacked-on story and an overbearing religious subtext that didn't quite fit the story, and even detracted from it. The meditations were good, though.
6. The last half of Jonathan Livingston Seagull -- it got a little weird, and too mystical/symbolic to me, and didn't live up to the simple excellence of the first half. Starts going downhill when JLS meets The Great Seagull.
7. Tuesdays With Morrie -- instead of evoking our feelings through excellent writing, Mr. Albom tells us how we ought to feel, and made ME feel manipulated. A meditation on death and moving on that left me totally unmoved.

Didn't qualify, despite being very talky/preachy:
Ishmael - Daniel Quinn (not inspirational)
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (too long, actually had a story for the first 2/3)


Which other inspiration-disguised-as-story bestsellers did I miss?

In a later post:
the books I should read once a year until I die --everybody should have a handful of books that basically function like lifelong friends.

My beef with Harry Potter, book Seven.

In case you doubted that I was a bad guy before:

<-- it's me. Time to rant about Harry Potter, book seven. (Maybe it's just sour grapes, and maybe I've officially become the contrarian ass who hates The Beatles, not because The Beatles are bad, but just for the sake of argument, and for attention. Or maybe this is my desperate plea, my cry for help to anybody who still reads my blog to post comments so I know I'm not just writing for the space aliens to read 3000 years from now, when they dig up our civilization. . . but here goes anyway.) My Beef With Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Now I'm serious: if you haven't read the book, DON'T read this post. It's ALL about Harry Potter Seven (and touches on the previous books). Yes, it's in my inimitable writing style, so you can read it for the fun of reading my words (hyuk), but if you plan on reading the book, and haven't yet SKIP TO THE NEXT POST BY CLICKING HERE. Any place where it says "SPOILER WARNING", I'm about to talk about plot points in the book, so if you don't want to know what happens, SKIP THIS POST AND READ PREVIOUS ONE INSTEAD. Also avoid reading the comments. The comments include spoilers, too. Or go here instead.

So yes, I'm spoiling the book in both ways: giving away the ending, AND pointing out flaws that will be glaring once they've been pointed out (like sometimes a friend makes a comment about another friend, like "He interrupts constantly" or "she ends every sentence like a question" or "really. loud. chewer." and, after that person mentions it, you can NEVER be around that person without being annoyed by those things yourself.) So don't read this post if you want to preserve the magic of old Harry Potter.

1. Let's just get this out of the way. YES, it's a good book. It's as readable as bacon is edible, that is to say, compulsively, irresistably so. Rowling is a master of storytelling and scene-writing, she creates interesting situations and her characterizations are full of energy and life. Yes, the book touches on all the important points foreshadowed in the previous books, and each of the characters, in one way or another, gets his or her due (except Snape and Dumbledore).

2. I have some problems with the book. Snape is as woefully underwritten. All through the series, Snape has been the most interesting character. The "Is he good or is he bad?" conundrum lent dramatic energy to every book. In this book, everything is explained (too late in the book), at a point where Harry can't make any more choices about what to do or how to feel about him. He's a total non-factor, except as a source of important information. . . about the BACKSTORY! Changing him from the dramatic lynchpin of the series to a source of exposition was a shocking disappointment.

SPOILER WARNING IN THIS PARAGRAPH Mainly, though, WE BARELY SEE HIM! Matt rightly said Snape is the Gollum of the Harry Potter series. Imagine if Gollum disappeared halfway through The Two Towers and didn't reappear until Frodo and Sam passed him at the foot of mount Doom, where, nearly dead of thirst from waiting for them, he only has the energy left to point and say, "Keep right past the fist-shaped boulder. Loose gravel there. Good luck!" and die. That's the level of short shrift Rowling gave Snape in book seven. As we learned in 2 Fast 2 Furious, it's a bad move to take the most interesting character OUT of the story.

3. There were points where I really felt like Rowling was just going through the paces -- as if she'd written out a chart of characters and brainstormed each one's "just dessert," and basically plotted her seventh book around making sure we revisit every interesting member of the Potter world somewhere or another. The first half of the book especially felt, at times, like a farewell tour, playing all the greatest hits one more time. Good for a fanfiction, not for the climax of the most popular book series of all time.

4. The Dursleys were barely despicable at all. Throw me a bone here!

5. Give me more in the epilogue! At least make it INTERESTING. Matt pointed out, after the climax of Lord of the Rings, there's another hundred pages or so of the Scouring of the Shire, another hundred pages of time to revel in Sauron's defeat, and enjoy Frodo's newfound asskickery, before the book finally ends. How quickly did Rowling wrap up this book? ELEVEN pages after Voldemort dies, the book, epilogue and all, is finished. It's like she got sick of her own series, and wanted to wrap it up as quick as she could. (PS: Wouldn't Return of the King have been better if they had 20 minutes of the hobbits cleaning up the Shire instead of having 28 minutes of "And. . . . it's over. . . no, no it isn't. Gotcha!" These guys made fun of the ending of Lord of the Rings in a really funny way.

6. Voldemort is dumb. (SPOILER WARNING) -Voldemort uses magical means to try and kill Harry four times (book one, four, five, early in book seven) and also as a baby. Each time, he fails. Obviously, its time to change tactics. If he had any brains, he'd have just given each of his minions a knife and said "disarm him, and cut his throat on sight." Messy, but effective. Bellatrix threatens Hermione with a knife -- wizards obviously know how to USE knives (unlike postage stamps, which they don't quite get), so why not? -instead, he insists on facing Harry himself, in the same arena (magical duel) where he lost many times before. ego? pride? stupidity. Then, in the final climax, when he didn't kill Harry THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE with his killing curse, he STILL tries to defeat Harry in a duel AGAIN! My buddy quotes an old Alcoholics Anonymous proverb: "Doing the same thing, but expecting different results, is insanity." Moldy-wart is BIGGER than Harry, and meaner -- he could probably have killed Harry with his bare hands if he wanted to, if he'd disarmed him. At least he hadn't already tried that and FAILED (four times).

-if he really fears death, why does he make so many powerful enemies, and try to take over the wizarding world, sticking his neck out so far, rather than holing up in a forest and working his dark, life-extending enchantments? (That one's courtesy of Gregg Easterbrook from espn.com)

-He should have read the evil overlord list.

-(MAJOR SPOILER WARNING) He's not scary anymore. By losing to Harry so often (see above), he loses the menace he had in the first three books, before they even arrive at the climax, and by STILL wanting to duel Harry magically after he came back to freaking life the last time, he proves himself obstinate and suicidally stupid. It's Darwinism, pure and simple: evil masterminds that stupid don't deserve to be in the evil overlord gene pool anymore, and must make room for smarter antagonists, like Darth Vader, the bugs in Starship troopers, Godzilla, and Moe, the bully in Calvin and Hobbes. In Lord of the Rings, Sauron is more frightening, BECAUSE we never see him. We see the terrifying creatures that serve him, and if Sauron is undisputed master of such monsters, he must be miles more terrifying than them! We don't need to see him to be frightened. Like God in Milton's Paradise Lost vs. God in Dante's Paradiso, the one shown and displayed loses his power and mystery and, ultimately, his impact. It's just more impressive that Dante's God was so great the entire epic poem had to end rather than us laying our eyes on His face, compared to Milton's God, who was so pedestrian he could be reduced to explaining theological excuses for why he allowed Adam and Eve to sin. I'd rather have Dante's God of mystery than Milton's Great Heavenly Explainer.



7. (This point is mostly Matt's, though I agreed once he pointed it out) Harry won by dumb luck, especially in the first two books, and in the later books, more because of who he was (The Boy Who Survived, selfless, brave, kind to house-elves, able to love, endowed with special powers because of the twin cores, because of the scar, etc.) than because of any real wizarding skill of his own. That was disappointing. I wanted to see Harry kick some butt, on his OWN steam, his own wizarding power -- I mean, he didn't learn ANY new spells after the patronus charm in book three (except apparating, which is more a dramatic device than a spell for fighting evil -- faster transitions when you can teleport magically) -- sorry, but if adult wizards can do the cool stuff THEY can, how could Harry have made it through year six of Hogwarts (much less defeat the greatest evil wizard in a century) with about five spells, and a lot of guts? When did Hermione learn all the cool spells SHE knew? Why weren't the books about HER, when she's obviously the most buttkicking wizard of the trio?


True to my evil nature,
I shall destroy your enjoyment
of the latest Harry Potter book!

Mwahahaha!

8. Too much wandering in the woods. Dissipated any momentum that existed at the beginning. Made Harry seem like a schmoe. Plus, Harry spent too much time resenting either himself, Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore in the last two books. Eyes on the prize, son! Unless the book is Catcher in the Rye, and the writer is JD Salinger, self-absorption and resentment aren't appealing! Harry (and Rowling) could get away with it for one book (book five, when it actually WAS him against the world) but after three books of self-pity, sullen resentment, and occasional rage and/or outbursts, I got tired of it. It would have been much nicer to see him get through this book on righteous rage or noble purposefulness, or even hell-bent-for-revenge passion, rather than surly, resentful, and passive-aggressive confusion about the clues Dumbledore left him. Plus, right to the bitter end, he NEVER trusts his friends. All the way to the end, he lies to Hermione and Ron about his ability to see into Moldy-wart's mind. What kind of a hero is this kid, anyway? I've heard the Potter books criticized before for the kids never trusting adults, but by book seven, he's even lying to his friends!


9. Dumbledore does things (especially concerning the Horocrux he found in the Gaunt's cabin) that just don't seem to fit with the rest of what we know about him. Sure, they were important to the action and other, later plot points, but they were still pretty dumb for a wizard smart enough to discover twelve different uses for dragon blood, AND powerful enough to defeat the wielder of the Elder Wand in open combat. And how on EARTH does he turn up inside Harry's head in the chapter King's Cross? That chapter -- an entire chapter of exposition in the middle of the climax of an incredible, LONG book series, was the most awkward chapter in the entire seven-ilogy.

My Conclusion:

10. I think it was because somebody was pressuring her to finish the book in time to coincide with the release of the fifth movie. The book (especially Snape, the episode in Godric's Hollow, the intermnable "wandering in the woods" part, the episode in the Malfoy Castle, the awkward "King's Cross" chapter, and Voldemort's mental meltdown --what's worse than a brain-fart? a brain-shart?), just felt like they could have benefited from more ripening. My guess is that her deadlines were too rigid, and her crafts(wo)manship suffered, which is an unfortunate end to the series. I waited two years; I'd have been glad to wait one more, even three more, if you could have made book seven one for the ages, Ms. Rowling -- I would have thanked you for taking your time.

11. Go back to point 1 and remember that I DID enjoy reading it the first time, and Rowling IS a really good storyteller, and writes action better than just about anyone I've read. However, I just felt like she could have done better. Return of the King is the best of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the jewel in the crown. This one was a bit more like the original Star Wars trilogy, peaking in the middle (books three-five; The Empire Strikes Back), and ending with a let-down. Yeah, the right people lived and the right people died, but it just didn't live up to the standard set by what came before. (Return of the Jedi -- come on. Teddy bears with bows and arrows?)

By the way, while I'm spoiling stuff everybody loves anyway, how did Fezzik learn that Count Rugen was the six-fingered man in The Princess Bride?

And there is no Santa Claus, either.

And Shakespeare was a plagiarist.

And I've been to Narnia, and it sucked. Bad food.

And babies smell bad.

(boy I'm a jerk)

Where the Wild Things Are

I just wanted to make a post to tell everyone how much I love "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak. They're making it into a movie, which I'll never watch, for the same reason I avoided seeing "The Cat in the Hat" and the film version of "Rob's Most Precious Unspoiled Memories".

There's another post below in case you haven't read it.

Love
Rob