Transformation!

Wait, it's October?! 

What happened?  This is so crazy - this is the first post I’m doing since February 23^rd! I didn’t even get past Week 3.  Again, what happened?  I started out with such high hopes for this year – what a wonderful, transformative year it was going to be! 

Instead, it’s October! And, the only thing that’s transformed is my pumpkin into a jack-o-lantern, or will be this weekend.  What?!  It will!  I already have a pumpkin AND a costume, too! 

See…there are things I don’t procrastinate on. 

Besides, transformations are overrated, anyway.  For one, they’re almost always temporary in nature.  Take Oprah for instance.  She made us wait something like 4 months back in 1988 to see her at her big unveiling toting that little red wagon – remember that? 



And, then there’s the scarier kind of transformation – this one took just seconds to achieve, but the result was just as powerful!  



And, while it makes for good TV and PR, transformations aren’t likely to change anything but the surface. 

We love ‘em, though, don’t we?  We love that there are a few people out there willing to go to unbelievable extremes to get what they want – even if it's just for 15 minutes of fame.  And, that’s just about how long, on average, those transformations last.  Because as quickly as it took Oprah or Britney to transform themselves, it takes about the same amount of time for everyone to revert to their old ways.

Lesson learned. 

So, starting next week, I’m beginning a new series on my progress with this really great, writing technique proven to get results in as little as 30 days!  It’s true!  Professionals agree -  even Pulitzer Prize winning authors endorse this method. 

It’s called…..wait for it….

Writing. 

Every. 

Single. 

Day.

So much for transformations.

The Last of the Mohicans

This story is set in 1750 in the area around what is now modern day New York State during the French & Indian War.  Two sisters, Cora and Alice, set off from Fort Edward to meet up with their father, the English commander in charge of Fort William Henry.  Along the way, their Indian guide reveals himself as a traitor and engineers the kidnapping of the two sisters.  Nearby, two Indians – a father and son – along with their companion, a white scout with a fearsome reputation, become embroiled in rescuing the sisters. 

This wasn’t necessarily a “hard read” but the prose was sometimes overwhelming.  For example, here’s the first sentence:

“It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America that the toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before the adverse hosts could meet.”

Although I’m used to reading lots of different kinds of books, I’ve never had trouble reading a novel before now.  It wasn’t the difficulty of the words, but rather their intensity and the way they are put together that made me have to read some sentences, like that first one, a couple of times to really take it in and understand it. 

The story was captivating – the action, the detail, the beauty and wildness captured perfectly, or at least what I think may be perfect.   Ok, I confess.  I know close to zilch about the early French, English and Dutch settlers is close.  Ditto for the northern tribes of Native Americans.   So, I was sometimes confused.  Where they in Michigan?  Canada?  New York?   Then I did some research at http://www1.american.edu/ted/ice/french-indian.htm and the setting became clear and the story ever more engrossing because I could better understand some the important subtext of the story like the profound distrust between the English and the French, as well the Indians for both nations, and the constant changing of sides of the Native American tribes to protect their hunting and sacred grounds being a prime factor in the changing of native and traditional allegiances between tribes, eventually causing their destruction both through external fighting against the "pale faces" but also amongst themselves.   (How’s that for academic?!) 

The characters were rich and deep, interestingly so, since at first read, one could accuse Cooper of using stereotypes – the untamed frontiersman, the noble savage, the honorable military man.   Except that his characters are like uncut diamonds - while embodying at the core some of those simple stereotypical characteristics, their many facets are cut through the hardships and trials of the story, ultimately revealing their brilliance.   

Now that I’ve read the book, I guess I should see the movie.  The problem is that while reading this book, sometimes I had to take breaks just to move around and make myself relax and let go of some of the tension and to digest what was happening.  You can’t do that with a movie.  The battle scenes will be hard to watch, too.  And, I'm notoriously picky when it comes to film adaptations - just ask my son about Harry Potter.  

Hmmmm……Daniel Day-Lewis?! Nevermind, the book and my imagination's more than enough for me!   

Interpretation

I promised to post my interpretation of "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot, and I'm sure that if anyone who has a clue about Eliot reads this, they will probably have a seizure. In the hopes of preventing major medical complications, please know that I do not pretend to be any sort of Eliot scholar.  Every one of the words typed below (that aren't in purple, cause those are Eliot's) comes, essentially, from my gut as opposed to some soaring poetic intellect, which is just as well as I haven't got any of the latter to work with and way too much of the former!  That said, read on if you dare.

Part I – The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruelest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers

--I think Eliot has been cruelly reminded of his past and the homosexual feelings he’s long suppressed have now come to the surface. 

--He sees his old lover, or believes he sees him -

         

There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying ‘Stetson!

You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
That corpse you planted last year in your garden,

Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?

Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?

Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men

Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!

You! hypocrite lecteur!--mon semblable,--mon frère!’

--Translation:  Hyprocrite reader! – my double,-- my brother!

--This may be a description of how he has buried his former self and that he fears those feelings coming to life again, but it also conveys the shame and anger Eliot feels about himself with the denial of his true self. 

Part II – A Game of Chess

                                                ‘Do

‘You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

Nothing?’

    I remember

Those are pearls that were his eyes.

‘Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?

                                                But

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag –

It’s so elegant

So intelligent

‘What shall I do now? What shall I do?’

‘I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street

With my hair down, so.  What shall we do to-morrow?

What shall we ever do?

                                                The hot water at ten.

And if it rains, a closed car at four.

And we shall play a game of chess,

Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

--A glimpse of Eliot’s life after the burial – a conversation between a man and a woman:   

She asks for reinforcement of his feelings for her, but all his feelings are for a dead lover or, possibly, his lost life.  So, she threatens to prostitute herself to receive the attention he fails to give her, but, in the end opts to remain with him and live a dull, repetitive life without passion.  The game of chess being the way men and women interact with each other, and the way we feel about ourselves as a result.  

Part III – The Fire Sermon

Or other testimony of summer nights.  The nymphs are departed.

And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;

Departed, have left no addresses.

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept…

Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,

Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.

But at my back in a cold blast I hear

The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

--Now, that Eliot is getting older, he realizes that all he had is gone as if it never were, and it makes him profoundly sad.   

But at my back from time to time I hear

The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring

Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.

O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter

And on her daughter

They wash their feet in soda water

Et, O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

--Translation:  And, O those children’s voices singing in the dome!

--Eliot may be referring to his memories of during the war when his heterosexual alter-ego (Sweeney) visited prostitutes. 

Unreal City

Under the brown fog of a winter noon

Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant

Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants

C.i.f. London: documents at sight,

Asked me in demotic French

To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel

Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back

Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits

Like a taxi throbbing waiting,

I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,

Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see

At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives

Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,

--An admission that he has been approached by homosexual men (Mr. Eugenides) and that Eliot lives two lives – one as a heterosexual and one as a homosexual. Or, rather he once lived life one way and now exists as another.

         

‘My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart

Under my feet. After the event

He wept. He promised “a new start.”

I made no comment. What should I resent?’

‘On Margate Sands.

I can connect

 Nothing with nothing.

The broken fingernails of dirty hands.

My people humble people who expect

Nothing.’

            la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning

O Lord Thou pluckest me out

O Lord Thou pluckest

burning

--Further proof that Eliot may have taken up the invitations, but instead of feeling the freedom of his youthful excursions, instead he felt shame, guilt and unclean made forcefully by a reference to the Bible about the Lord plucking out what is unclean in his sight.  Yet, he still desires.

Part IV – Death by Water

--States the death again of his homosexual alter ego, and Eliot asks whomever “turn[s] the wheel” to steer him away from that state of being

Part V - What the Thunder Said

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces

After the frosty silence in the gardens

After the agony in stony places

The shouting and the crying

Prison and palace and reverberation

Of thunder of spring over distant mountains

He who was living is now dead

We who were living are now dying

With a little patience

--With that death, comes the death of his physical self. 

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

We who were living are now dying

With a little patience

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

When I count, there are only you and I together

But when I look ahead up the white road

There is always another one walking beside you

Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded

I do not know whether a man or a woman

--But who is that on the other side of you?

--His attempt at marriage - living as a heterosexual is a failure because, as his wife explains in the stanzas above, Eliot cannot fully engage with her because of his constant memories of his former homosexual life/self.  

--Eliot has tried everything to live the way society tells him he should live, but cannot.  The following is a kind of synopsis of an attempt to seek understanding of his situation:

Then spoke the thunder

DA

Datta: what have we given?

My friend, blood shaking my heart

The awful daring of a moment’s surrender

Which an age of prudence can never retract

By this, and this only, we have existed

Which is not to be found in our obituaries

Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider

Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor

In our empty rooms

DA

Dayadhvam:  I have heard the key

Turn in the door once and turn once only

We think of the key, each in his prison

Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison

Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours

Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus

DA

Damyata:  The boat responded

Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar

The sea was calm, your heart would have responded

Gaily, when invited, beating obedient

To controlling hands

--DA – is the thunder’s answer, but each interprets the answer differently as Datta (Give), Dayadhyam (Sympathize) and Damyata (Control), which reveals Eliot’s own confusion. 

                        I sat upon the shore

Fishing, with the arid plain behind me

Shall I at least set my lands in order?

London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down

Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina

Ouando fiam uti chelidon – O swallow swallow

Le Prince d’Aquitaine a la tour abolie

These fragments I have shored against my ruins

Why then Ile fit you.  Hieronymo’s mad againe.

Datta.  Dayadhvam. Damyata.

            Shantih  shantih shantih

--Translation of Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina:   

          ‘And so I pray you, by that virtue

            which guides you to the top of the stair,

            be reminded in time of my pain.’

            Then he hid himself in the fire that purifies them.

--Translation of Ouando fiam uti chelidon:                   When shall I become like the swallow?

--Translation of Le Prince d’Aquitaine a la tour abolie: The prince of Aquitainia in the abandoned tower

--Translation of Ile fit you:       I’ll oblige you

--Translation of Shantih    shantih   shantih:           The Peace which passeth understanding

--Eliot’s final thoughts on how to deal with his feelings is giving up, hiding away and asking for peace.  His life is actually a death, a wasteland…he awaits his imminent physical death that corresponds to his already dead spiritual, passionate self and the final peace he hopes/prays it will bring.

The Story of Ferdinand



Ah, smelling the roses!

This classic story by Munro Leaf is about a peace-loving bull, Ferdinand, who lives a bucolic life outside Madrid, Spain.  Through a series of funny misunderstandings Ferdinand is "discovered" and mistakenly assumed to be a fearsome fighter, and is carted off to the bullfights with hilarious results! 

After checking it out from my local library, I read it first to myself and then asked my Girlie Girl to read it to me while I just looked at the pictures.  She did great, except I did have to help with the pronunciation of a couple of Spanish words like Matador and Banderilleros.  Simple words used in an easy rhythm make the book no trouble to read or understand.  But, it's the drawings by Robert Lawson that bring this simple story to life! 



Ugly things, aren't they?  And creepy!



We read it a couple of times and then looked back through it because we noticed several pictures of vultures.  Especially those picturing the journey to and the city of Madrid.  We counted ten!  Now, I read this story as a kid and I never even noticed the vultures, but my daughter saw them right away.  I was amused, but a little disturbed, too….although it didn’t even come close to the level of discomfort I felt when I watched the movie Snow White as an adult and saw the vultures smile. That's scary stuff.   

The best pictures, we thought, were of the men who “recruited” Ferdinand.  Leaf’s only description is this:  



Her fav? Eye-patch guy.
Yes, that is worrisome! 

  One day five men came in very
   Funny hats to pick the biggest
   Fastest, roughest bull to fight
   In the bull fights in Madrid

Lawson’s interpretation was brilliant and caught my Girl's attention for more time than any other drawing in the book.   She loved looking at all the different hats.  And those mustaches!  Ha!

Overall, my first-grader (6) read it just fine, aside from the Spanish words.  But, this picture book is for any age!  For us, this short story turned into a 20 minute talk about bullfights, Spain, the Spanish language and, of all things, ponchos!  

I’m reminded once again of what books can do! 

Different is Good!

If you’re like me, in high school you were forced to read books that you were told were “classics” like Billy Bud or Silas Marner.  And, you suffered through them, mostly hating them.  You may have been one of the lucky few who got to read something close to interesting, but for the most part you were completely turned off.  (I remember tucking my Stephen King paperback inside my English book during class reading time.)  Poe and Shakespeare were the only ones who caught my imagination.  If I am completely honest, the only reason Shakespeare got a second glance was because my 10^th grade English teacher told us to look for the bawdy jokes in “Romeo and Juliet.”  Brilliant man!  So, I tried really hard not to include all the “classics” that most kids read in high school (and hate) and stick to those that we read, or wish we read, in our childhood, adolescence and adulthood that make us think, wince, laugh out loud, reminisce, cry and generally enjoy. To that end, you’ll find my list pretty eclectic (and long!) but one that can be easily adaptable to any age group. 

Here it is already week three of 2012, and I’m finding the best way to end the day is to read to one or more of my kids, especially those books that I find so comforting and wonderful myself.  But, in keeping with the spirit of trying something new, I’ve tried hard to put in loads of children’s literature that I haven’t read myself (which is quite a lot, since I was obsessed with the occult, horror and sci-fi when I was a kid).  This week’s choices are a result of this conscious decision to go in a different direction.  Consider The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot and James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl. 

First off, you’re right! “The Waste Land” is not a book, but a poem.  It’s included on my list for several reasons, and the first of which is this: T.S. Eliot was a tortured soul and a literary genius, whose great works are often hidden behind his most famous work, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”  This is a shame, because Eliot is so much more, I’ve found.  Second, “The Waste Land” is often quoted in other works and I’ve always been curious about the poem, but not enough to actually read and dissect it.  Third, I’ve always stood in awe of those people who have had a classical education (learned in Latin and Greek among other cool and equally daunting subjects) and used that education throughout their art with such mastery that a horrible feeling of complete ignorance overcomes me whenever I encounter it, so I wanted to “crack the code” so to speak. Finally, this blog is supposed to stimulate people (namely myself) to more critical thought and nothing, I believe, takes more brain power than poetry!



How creepy is this cover?

Now, you may be remembering the long lectures and boring, drool-inducing explanations that I, too, was subjected to and unfortunately, ended up being mind-numbed to and turned off of classic fiction, poetry, plays and essays.  This was a big hurdle for me to overcome.  But, I found the most wonderful website to work through this poem, and if you decide to read “The Waste Land,” which I fervently hope you do, please go here http://world.std.com/~raparker/exploring/thewasteland/table/explore6.html to have it all become crystal clear in an easy to read, easy to understand format!  I found out so much that I didn’t know and, even though I didn’t subscribe to the couple of critically accepted theories behind the poem, I learned enough to come up with my own theory, which can I won’t elaborate on in this blog (I don’t want to influence any future reader with my opinions). I’ll say this, though:  what may look like a bunch of nonsense strewn together is actually an intensely personal revelation disguised by Eliot as something altogether different – something only an expert at concealment and undeniable genius intellect could pull off.  As you read, consider it was published in 1922, but the themes of disillusionment, religious conflict, and passion thwarted by societal norms, can still be applied today. I’d love to hear your interpretations!



The illustrations are PERFECT!



Brake…switch gears….and full steam ahead to: Roald Dahl – a staple among the children’s lit greats – Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, The Fantstic Mr. Fox,  and, of course, James and the Giant Peach.  I do love the way that Dahl writes and brings his characters to life, making you a believer amidst some pretty fantastical circumstances.  Poor James, a small boy whose parents are killed in a freak accident, goes to live with his evil aunties and after much suffering encounters a silly little man promising him an end to all his problems if James only follows his directions.  Of course, it all goes awry and James is caught up in a wonderful, glorious adventure that leads him and his new “friends” to new lives.  What a blast this was to read aloud and give voice to such funny and endearing characters! This short book moves at a fast pace designed to keep little ones interested and entertained, but with such a unique story that parents will be just as charmed as their children.  It was a great pleasure to read this to my daughter, who really liked it. (Little critic that she is though, declared emphatically that The Fantastic Mr. Fox was “better.”)

Sidenote:  It’s funny what kids take away from childhood books. In re-reading this with my daughter, I found I had completely forgotten about the fact the aunties perish when the peach rolls over them, but remembered with fondness the fact that Miss Spider spun all the peach’s inhabitants a hammock in which to sleep!  The same goes for all the PG movies I watched as a kid – so many happy memories, but when I watch them with my kids, I think, “Wow…did they just say the D-word 4 times in a row? I don’t remember that!”  But, my kids never bat an eye – doesn’t make the least impression on them.  Go figure.  On the flip side, I can trace my intense fear of sharks back to this book. (‘Course it didn’t hurt the same summer I read it, my older sister hummed the Jaws theme while I was swimming with her in the Atlantic Ocean!)   

Sadly, I haven’t finished The Last of the Mohicans and cannot, in all good conscience, report to you my review!  I’ll have to post twice this week, instead.  I’ll also put in this blog post my theory about “The Waste Land”. 

Keep Reading!!

Next Week:         Slaughterhouse-Five – Kurt Vonnegut

                                    20,000 Leagues Under the Sea – Jules Verne

                                    The Story of Ferdinand – Munro Leaf

First Classics Post - A whole lotta Sci-Fi!

           This week has been an eye-opener in more ways than one.  I found that I am a faster reader than I thought, but that I take FOREVER to read aloud to my daughter.  It’s those voices!!  I just can’t read to her without making up some kind of crazy voice for each character and it makes reading S – L – O – W, but it’s so much fun that I can’t quit doing it.  To get a feel for what this week’s been like, check out the journal I’ve been keeping: 

January 1, 2012   Yea! Now I can start reading the very first classics book of 2012!  I picked these three for this week – 1984 by George Orwell, the The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum, and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.  Okay, I admit it, on Christmas I got a color Nook and I started reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz early on the Nook.  Oh my goodness, I so love my Nook!!!! 

January 2, 2012   Gotten through probably 50 pages or so in 1984 and we’re on chapter 3 in Wizard of Oz.  I am just so excited to be reading to my girl one of my most favorite books ever (and my VERY favorite movie ever).  She’s really liking it – course she’s seen the movie, and it pretty much follows the first part of the book.  I’ll see when they get to Oz what she thinks, but so far, so good!

January 3, 2012   Chapter 6 in Wizard.  Not quite yet halfway through 1984 and gotten through just a little of 451.  Panic is fluttering around the edges of my brain…what if I can’t finish them all?!

January 4, 2012   Couldn’t read in Wizard because we got home too late and didn’t want a grumpy girl in the morning.  Permission to read ahead DENIED.  Read only 10 pages in 1984 before falling asleep in clothes, with glasses on, over the top of the bedcovers amidst two loads of clean, but unfolded (and now rumpled) clothing.  I’m feeling very unoptimistic about my chances here. 

January 5, 2012   Read during lunch and resolved to FINISH 1984 tonight and write down my impressions.  Getting the girl ready for bed by 7 and reading Wizard for one whole hour tonight – maybe we can get through meeting Oz.  451 is on hold until tomorrow night.  I’m determined to do this!!

January 6, 2012   Only got to page 211 (out of 314) in 1984 last night, but got all the way to Chapter 11 in Wizard – halfway!!  Man, 1984 is crazy good, but so difficult to read easily – I keep stopping to yell things out to my hubby.  “Hey…listen to this…’Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.’  Doesn’t that sound like FOX News’s target audience?”  I’m definitely going to finish 1984 tonight and work through at least 5 chapters of Wizard.  I only have tonight and tomorrow to finish ALL of them.  Good Grief!  I’ve really got to be sure to stagger these well enough so that I am not hating doing this.  I want to learn, but I don’t want it to be like Finals Week!  Next week I’ve got to make it a little bit easier!

January 7, 2012   Holy Moses!  We have 8 more chapters in Wizard to read!!  Finished with the others and feel slightly depressed and discombobulated. 

January 8, 2012   Still feeling a little sad.  Reading Wizard like mad.  Still have three chapters to go!!!  My blog will be LATE! Disappointed, but can’t make the girl stay up any longer.  I can’t believe how much longer it takes to read aloud!  My throat hurts from doing the King Monkey voice.  Need hot chocolate.

January 9, 2012   The sweet pea wasn’t the best behaved and had to lose out on the last two chapters! Read ahead, though and am going to post the blog today, anyway.  Feeling better and got the next three books – The Last of the Mohicans is HUGE! 

            I never realized the work and planning that goes into reading all these books, plus writing a consistent blog about all this.  It’s overwhelming – which may be one of the reasons why I’m late in posting this very first one!  On to the reviews….   



What a great cover this is!



            My daughter has loved reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and we stopped a lot to talk about how it was different from the movie and why. (She loved acting out the charm the Wicked Witch of the West says to call the Winged Monkeys).  I was actually surprised to see how much DID make it into the movie, but then, I’ve seen the movie at least once a year without fail and the last time I read the book, I think I was 10 (I will not go into how long ago that was).  I have to say, as much as I absolutely love the movie, the book was better.  I do love how the Winged Monkeys tell their story (reminiscent of Greek mythology) and that Oz is different for each of the travelers.  I’d forgotten the beauty of the language and the specialness of all the characters.  If it has been years since you’ve read this book, it’s totally worth it to read it for yourself or to your kids so that they can appreciate the quirky little people and scenarios that make the book something so supremely special! 

            I have to say my decision to read 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 on the same week was pure chance as I had absolutely no idea they were both stories about the future.  I knew of George Orwell and thought this was a story about the future, but really knew nothing else.  Ray Bradbury I knew from Something Wicked This Way Comes, a big favorite of mine, so I thought 451 may be sci-fi-ish.  But, really, I didn’t know what I was getting into, especially with 1984.    



The back and front covers - look at that camera!



            Let me say right off that I liked both books, but in different ways.  When I first started reading 1984, I felt that I knew how it was going to end, and so settled in to read a good story of man’s ability to persevere through hardship, oppression and war – all the while keeping humanity intact and hope on the horizon.  Midway through, I realized that I had no idea what was going on and I had to put it down and mentally re-assess so that I wouldn’t read mad (there’s nothing worse than getting mad at a character or an author so much so that you are unable to finish the story).  After clearing things up, I went back to it and finished it pretty quickly.  My poor husband (as you can kinda see from the journal entry above) had to stand proxy and listen to me read to him those parts that I felt were important and wanted to argue with Orwell or Winston, the main character (it didn’t go well – I lost and then sulked loudly).   Since finishing the book, my subconscious will not let it go and I keep coming up with arguments (most of which my husband refuses to even listen to now).  So, you may be asking…is it worth it?  Was it good?  And, my answer is Yes, Yes, Yes!  Read this book and argue with your spouse, your mother, your father, your teacher, your librarian – criticize it, hate it, love it – whatever it takes to make you think.  Orwell would approve, I’m sure of it. 



A powerful image!



            A friend of mine, who upon hearing I was going to read Fahrenheit 451, actually jumped up and down with delight and said I would love it.  I completely trust her, since she’s an assistant librarian and knows of what she speaks.   This time was no exception.  I did love it.  I loved the entire book.  I wanted to read it again as soon as I was done.  You’d think being such a lover of books I wouldn’t appreciate the fact that the entire book revolves around the banning and burning of books, but the plot doesn’t make the book.  I believe the plot is secondary to the message (I so wanted to put that as Message) that knowledge is salvation – not that you get that in your face from the beginning.  Of course not!  Bradbury subtlety uses his characters to deliver it.  Oh, the characters!  The beautiful, fantastic, deep, lovely characters! It isn’t until the end that you see where Bradbury’s been leading you the whole time and then, WHAM, you are caught – you are a believer!  The reader of 451 becomes a “Reader.” I hereby nominate this book for “the list that doesn’t exist” – those books that should be on the high school English teacher’s curriculum, but aren’t.

All three of these books should be at your local library - one thing that this week has made me appreciate even more is the fact that anyone can go into a library and pick up a book and read.  Never forget how lucky we are and LOVE your library!!