Wednesday, July 27, 2011

A Year Down Yonder

                      by

                 Richard Peck

 

                           Newbery Medal Winner (2001)


Peck, R. (2000). A year down yonder. New York, NY:
Scholastic, Inc.

If you look at almost anyone’s list of “The 100 Most Authentic American Plays” you’re sure to find one called The Old Homestead.  A man named Denman Thompson, who lived in a little town called Swanzey Center, NH around a century ago, wrote it.  The good folks of Swanzey Center put on a re-enactment of this show for three days every summer to raise money for the local churches.  The reason I know this is that I grew up there and I was part of that annual production for most of my formative years.  The reason I mention this here is that reading A Year Down Yonder was like a homecoming for me.
           

The Old Homestead focuses on a simple country senior named Josh Whitcomb who proves to be unusually wise, caring, comical and loveable.  That characterization has a female counterpart in A Year Down Yonder’s Grandma Dowdel.  When a teenager named Mary Alice needs to leave her Chicago home while her parents try to find work during the Great Depression, she dreads having to go to live with her grandmother in the country.  But she gradually realizes that her Grandma Dowdel is like a barnyard menagerie all rolled into one old lady: she’s as sly as a fox, as caring as a mother hen, as adorable as a puppy, and as wise as an owl.  By the story’s end, a post-World War II Mary Alice gets married on her grandmother’s porch to a young man that Grandma Dowdel introduced her to during that “year down yonder” when Mary Alice lived at “the old homestead.”

One reason why Denman Thompson’s play is a beloved classic is that he filled it with sight gags.  Richard Peck did the same thing with his book.  As the story unfolds, readers are treated to such literary images as Grandma rigging up a trap that sends a shower of hot glue down upon a boy who is trying to tip over her outhouse.  Or Grandma bilking the rich town banker into paying five dollars for a ten-cent cup of stew. And that time when grandma’s pet snake got loose and scared a woman who was modeling nude for an artist renting a room in Grandma Dowdel’s house, sending the terrified lady running buck-naked down the streets of town.  Whether on stage or between the pages of a book, sight gags are a sure-fire success.                

PICTURE SOURCES:
nysoclib.org
amazon.com
etc.usf.edu
nocaptionneeded.com

          Slaughterhouse-Five

                                           by

                      Kurt Vonnegut

   
                             100 Most Challenged Books


Vonnegut, K. (1996). Slaughterhouse-five.
New York, NY: RosettaBooks, LLC.

Have you ever known someone who channel-surfs?  They take the remote control to the T.V. and just keep hitting buttons to skip from one station to another.  They have an incurably itchy remote trigger finger and an attention span of .02 seconds.  I’ll bet Kurt Vonnegut was one of those folks.
           


Reading his novel Slaughterhouse-Five is a lot like watching Kurt channel surf back and forth between television shows that flash by so quickly it’s hard to tell what they are.  They blur into one collage that somehow makes up a unified literary whole.  And along the way, a boy named Billy makes three new friends:  Hogan, Donna and Rod.
           





“Hogan’s Heroes” gets a new recruit when the Slaughterhouse-Five’s protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, joins the army, gets captured by the Nazis, is imprisoned in a meat locker that provides the book’s title, and survives the bombing of Dresden.  








Donna Reed gets a new neighbor when Billy returns from the war, gets married, and settles down into the perfect post-war domestic life. 







Then Rod Serling gets a new visitor to “The Twilight Zone” when Billy remembers being captured by aliens.









But this lovely scene of literary channel surfing resulted in a wipeout when Kurt introduced into his novel such un-Donna-Reed-like items as profanity, sex and homosexuality.  Tisk-tisk.  Naughty-naughty.   Those made school districts remove Slaughterhouse-Five from classes and libraries, until the Supreme Court stopped such censorship.  Thank heavens the last T.V. show Kurt apparently settled on was Judge Judy.      

 

PICTURE SOURCES:
sffbr.blogspot.com
automation-drive.com
oldcitytshirts.com
tvacres.com
myspace.com
netflix.com
crockettlives.wordpress.com

 The Tale of Despereaux

                                   by

                     Kate DiCamillo

                                            Illustrated by

                            Timothy Basil Ering


New York Times Bestseller for Children’s List (2005)

DiCamillo, K. (2003). The tale of Despereaux.
Somerville, MA: Candlewick Press.

Moliere wrote plays in which he would take a character whom society considers the most worthless, like a maid, and he would turn that person into the intrinsically best individual in his story.  Kate DiCamillo seems to do the same, except that she uses animals instead of people.  So, a scruffy stray dog named Winn-Dixie can change an entire town for the better, and a lowly mouse named Despereaux can behave like one of the three Musketeers in order to try and save an imprisoned princess.

Indeed, most of the characters in The Tale of Despereaux are lowly, including mice, rats, a jailer, and a scullery maid.  One interesting creative element that the author employs is giving a number of the characters peculiar ears.  Despereaux has very large ears; Botticelli the rat has only one ear; and Mig the scullery maid can’t hear very well because of blows to the ears she received while growing up.



DiCamillo is also very creative in the way her story is made of four books that each tell a different part of the tale from the perspective of three different characters – Despereaux, Chiaroscuro, and Mig – and brings everything together in the last book.  Considering how much death, physical pain, sadness and darkness there is to the story, Kate DiCamillo still manages to give a true fairy tale ending to her story by ending the tale in a 4-F manner:  with Fun, Fellowship, Food and Family.   








 
PICTURE SOURCES:
kidsblogs.nationalgeographic.com
fripon-meandamerica.blogspot.com
mrssatan.blogspot.com
paintingsilove.com

     Al Capone Does My Shirts

                                           by

                  Gennifer Choldenko

 


New York Times Bestseller for Children’s List (2005)


Choldenko, G. (2004). Al Capone does my shirts.
New York, NY: G. P. Putnam's Sons.

One might wonder if the concept for this story was heisted from the Magic Tree House series of children’s books in which a boy and girl travel to fascinating places in bygone times to meet famous people.  In this case, a boy named Matthew (who prefers to be called “Moose”) feels like he’s almost been forced at gunpoint to move to Alcatraz Island decades ago when he father gets hired to work at the prison there.  And of course, the most famous and infamous inmate at the prison is
                                                          Al Capone.

Moose likes to play baseball with another boy named Scout, except that Scout is always stealing bases.  Piper, the warden’s daughter, cons Moose into a plan whereby they get their school classmates to pay them money to have the inmates wash the students’ clothes.  But when the warden learns of their scheme, they get busted.

Moose’s little sister Natalie is autistic, so whenever he has to take care of her, he feels like he’s serving a life sentence with no chance for parole.  Natalie needs to get into a learning center, the Esther P. Marinoff School, where she could get the special help she needs; but getting her in is harder than getting a file into a jail cell.  So Moose smuggles a note to Al Capone asking for his help.  

Somehow, Capone makes the school an offer they can’t refuse, because Natalie is  immediately accepted into the school. 


PICTURE SOURCES:
smithvilleelementarylibrary.blogspot.co
alcatraztickets.com
grumpfactory.wordpress.com
jessicadionne.glogster.com


 

Of Mice and Men

 

by

 

John Steinbeck

  

 

100 Most Challenged Books


Steinbeck, J. (1937). Of mice and men. New York, NY:
Penguin Books.

As a theatre lover, I first experienced this story by watching four different movie and stage dramatizations of Steinbeck’s story.  So I welcomed this opportunity to read the original book to see how it compared.  Plus, I was curious why the book would be considered “controversial.”



Since Steinbeck often wrote of migrant workers during the Great Depression in books like this and The Grapes of Wrath, it would seem his books would be popular in a contemporary world where this group makes up such a large part of our society.  Like so many of us, George Milton and his friend Lenny Small cherish the American dream of someday earning enough money to get their own place.  Since this same vision is probably what has been bringing so many immigrants to American for centuries, it would seem Steinbeck wisely wrote of characters most readers could easily associate with.
   
By giving his character of Lenny the last name “Small,” it seems Steinbeck may have been simultaneously employing an oxymoron regarding Lenny’s large physical stature and symbolism regarding Lenny’s limited intelligence.  It is a sad irony that Lenny’s big heart makes him love to pet anything soft, yet he accidentally kills these things, including the pretty wife of the bosses’ son.  And this, in turn, leads an even more tragic irony – George, out of love, kills the friend who always trusted him.  I suppose this may be why some critics found the book controversial, but I enjoyed it more than the stage and movie versions of it that I’ve seen.


It may just be an idiosyncrasy of mine, but I’m always curious about what inspires artists.  They say there are no new ideas – just ones that have been recycled.  I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but I do continually see what appears to be curious similarities in art forms.  For example, in 1931, the movie Frankenstein depicted a giant of a man with a simple mind who likes to pet soft things, like a little girl he meets by a pond, but he accidentally kills her.  Six years later, the book Of Mice and Men depicted a giant of a man with a simple mind who likes to pet soft things, like a woman, but he accidentally kills her.  It makes me wonder if this was a case of sheer coincidence or if John Steinbeck liked to go to the movies.   
           

PICTURE SOURCES:
coroflot.com
impawards.com
newdeal.feri.org
decisioneer.com
travissaves.blogspot.com




The Hunger Games

                            by

                         Suzanne Collins

 



Collins, S. (2008). The hunger games. New York, NY:
Scholastic Press.

One of the best things I’m experiencing in this online library program is the ongoing opportunity to make new discoveries I might otherwise have never known, like finding buried treasure.  That was certainly the case with The Hunger Games.  I was initially puzzled when I saw it was required, whereas most of the rest of our reading was simply to come from certain categories.  I assumed this meant the professor felt this was a book we shouldn’t miss.  Oh, wow!  That was so true!  I came away from this reading experience feeling like I had found a treasure – only this one was filled with pages instead of gold doubloons.

At the same time I was reading this book, the last Harry Potter movie was about to open, so there were a multitude documentaries being done about this book series.  One comment caught my ear because it also pertained so well to The Hunger Games.  A literary critic said that if an author dares to give her book a setting that is totally different from the real world, then that imaginary world must be drawn with complete accuracy down to the last detail, with no contradictions, no omissions, and no elements that defy credibility.  In that sense, J. K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins both created in their fertile imaginations wonderful worlds of fantasy that foster the willing suspension of disbelief in the reader.  And even better, both authors infused life into their visionary worlds by inhabiting them with characters the reader actually cares about.

The world of Panem and its Hunger Games seemed like a blend of two other books I’ve read:  George Orwell’s 1984 and Stephen King’s The Running Man.  The differences were that the Suzanne Collins’ Panem is a more exciting and fascinating land than Orwell’s Airstrip One; and I cared much more about Collins’ Katniss and Peeta than I did about King’s Ben Richards.  I know The Hunger Games is categorized as “children’s” literature, but – again like Harry Potter – it has a strong appeal for readers of all ages, including me!  I’m enough of a typical male to love adventure and I’m enough of a romantic to enjoy a good love story, especially if it’s off-center.  Both of these sides of mine were really moved by Katniss and Peeta - even if they are muggles.                  

PICTURE SOURCES:
kerrimaniscalco.wordpress.com
kerrimaniscalco.wordpress.com
wallpaperbase.com
members.wolfram.com




Catcher in the Rye

by

J. D. Salinger

  

100 Most Challenged Books






Salinger, J. D. (1945). Catcher in the rye. New York, NY:
Penguin Books.

This book was required reading in the Junior-year English classes at my high school; but, for some reason, the teacher didn’t use it the year I was in her class.  So I when I saw it was a possibility for this project, I jumped at it.  After reading it, I should have remembered the old adage, “Look before you leap.”
           


 It’s understandable why Salinger’s book would be so popular.  Since an author should write a book that readers can relate to, a 16-year-old named Holden Caulfield builds an emotional and psychological bridge with teenage readers by narrating his troubled past.
           


 My problem is I could not personally relate to anything Holden feels, thinks or experiences.  He left a prep school for poor academic behavior; and I worked my socks off at a little New Hampshire public school.  He goes to New York City – a city where I am always relieved when I get out alive.  He interacts with a multitude of people, while I love one-on-ones.  This book apparently became controversial because of its language.  This book became objectionable to me because of its entire content.  Ultimately, I came away from Catcher in the Rye without a shred of sympathy or even caring for Holden Caulfield.  Instead of reading this book, I should have spent my time catching a ham on rye.
                     
PICTURE SOURCES:
egotistsclub.wordpress.com
betternetworker.com
hometestingblog.testcountry.com
ithanmarket.com

The Cat Who Went to Heaven

                                      by

                     Elizabeth Coatsworth

                                        Illustrated by

                                  Lynd Ward


                    Newbery Medal Winner - 1931


Coatsworth, E. (1930). The cat who went to heaven.
New York, NY: Simon & Schuster, Inc.

I’ve always been fascinated by the way that life imitates art, and vice-versa.  It certainly proved true when I read this book.
           









I’m a born-and-bred cat-hater.  Like the poor painter in this story and the Japanese society in which he lived so long ago, I always felt that cats were snobby balls of unrequited love on four feet.  But, the painter and I nonetheless ended up with a cat in our house that we didn’t invite, need or want.  And both cats were strays that were brought in by a woman.  The painter’s housekeeper brought in his, and my new bride bought in mine.  When your wife of two weeks leaves her home and family to follow you to a new residence halfway across the country, she’s naturally going to be lonely.  And when a stray kitten comes out of the woods and adopts her, and they both come to you with sad dark eyes, how do you (I) say no?  Simple answer – you don’t.  I didn’t, and neither did the painter.  The painter called his cat “Good Fortune.” We named our cat “Puck” since it came out of the woods like Shakespeare’s impish fairy (but I usually called him “stupid cat”).

Now don’t get me wrong.  There are some ways that life and art do not exactly imitate one another.  The painter’s cat would gently catch a bird and then release it.  Puck would come up to my toe as I was sleeping, gently take it in his mouth…and bury his fangs into it.  The painter’s cat seemed to regularly pay homage to Buddha each morning, while Puck would pay homage to my side of the bed by baptizing it with cat pee.  The painter immortalized his cat by putting it into a painting, while I wanted to immortalize my cat by putting it into a pot of cement.  The painter felt his cat was a child of Buddha, and I felt Puck was a child of Satan.

But despite these exceptions, life does ultimately imitate art.  In time, the painter’s cat died, and the beliefs of the time held that cats did not go to Heaven.  But the painter knew that he did.  He had painted a picture that depicted Buddha with Good Fortune humbly sitting quietly in the corner.  A miracle happened.  After Good Fortune died, the painter saw that in his painting, Buddha was now holding out a loving hand to the cat.  And when Puck died after 11 years of mischief, I found another miracle had happened – we had somehow come to love each other.  And I joined my wife in holding out loving hands to embrace Puck as he slipped away.  I know for certain that he too is in Heaven.  That was five years ago, and as I try to type these words, I can hardly see the keys through my tears.        

PICTURE SOURCES:
brightkidsworld.com
bitsandpieces.us
animalsden.com
assija.deviantart.com
keen.com


Turtle in Paradise

                           by

            Jennifer L. Holm



                             Newbery Honor Book (2011)

Holm, J. (2010). Turtle in paradise. New York, NY:
Random House.

In this charming book, an eleven-year-old girl named Turtle loves the funny pages, including the comic strip Little Orphan Annie.  I wonder if she ever notices how much her own life mirrors that of the other little girl with curly red hair and no pupils.
           




 Both girls live during the Great Depression.  Like her comic strip heroine, Turtle is an “orphan” of sorts.  She never knew her father; and when her mother gets a job as a cleaning lady for a rich woman who hates children, Turtle has to move to Key West to live with relatives she’s never met.  In a way, her new Florida home is like Annie’s orphanage since Turtle’s new neighborhood is filled with scruffy little boys who call themselves the “Diaper Gang.”  Both girls have pets whose names begin with “s”:  Annie has a dog named Sandy and Turtle has a cat named Smoky.


 
Annie’s life goes from rags to riches when she’s adopted by Daddy Warbucks, and so does Turtle’s when she and her Diaper Gang find a pirate’s buried treasure.  Just as Annie has con artists who want to take advantage of her new-found wealth, the man who marries Turtle’s mother and promises them both a wonderful new home turns out to be a cook who steals Turtle’s treasure and runs off to Cuba.  But in the end, both little girls end up with families who love them, and that’s the best treasure of all.  The morale of both stories is the same:  “The sun’ll come out tomorrow!”       

PICTURE SOURCES:
greenbeanteenqueen.com
voices.washingtonpost.com
flickr.com
tickets.tarrytownmusichall.org

Number the Stars

                by

                Lois Lowry

 


                           Newbery Medal Winner (1990)


Lowry, L. (1989). Number the stars. New York, NY:
Dell Publishing.

In today’s ever-so-politically-correct society, it seems to be a daily event for some group to claim they are being persecuted because of some incidental action that might or might not indirectly relate to them.  To put things into perspective, such groups should look at the people who have suffered persecution longer and in more horrible forms than anyone else on earth – the Jews.  That is what is depicted in Number the Stars.
           

 The story centers around two little girls who are best friends – a gentile named Annemarie and a Jew named Ellen - who live in Nazi-occupied Copenhagen during World War II.  When the Nazis begin persecuting and rounding up Jews as part of the Holocaust, Annemarie and her family hide Ellen until she can join her own family, who are in hiding.  They later help Ellen, her family and other Jews escape to safety until the war is over.
           



I’ve always known the Star of David represented the Jewish people, but references to this symbol in this story will always make me now see it in a new way.  The book’s title refers to Psalm 147 in which God is said to have numbered the stars in the heavens, and those stars represent His Chosen People.  Ellen wears a Star of David necklace, which she has to quickly tear off when Nazi soldiers invade Annemarie’s house.  When Ellen and her family can finally return to Copenhagen, Annemarie has the necklace waiting for her best friend.    


PICTURE SOURCES:
search.rainbowresource.com
yiddelenews.com
brokenworld.wikispaces.com
fine-jewelry-from-jerusalem.com

The Whipping Boy

                           by

                  Sid Fleischman

                                Illustrated by

  Peter Sis

 

                           Newbery Medal Winner (1987)


Fleischman, S. (1986). The whipping boy.
New York, NY: Greenwillow Books.

This book reminded me of the swashbuckling adventure movies of the 1940’s.  At any moment, I expected to turn a page and find Errol Flynn swaggerring  into the story with Olivia de Havilland on his arm.  It turned out that there were no such characters in the plot, but I’ll bet Cecil B. DeMille could have found a way if Sid Fleischman had just asked.
           

Since the spoiled Prince Horace can’t be punished when he misbehaves because he is royalty, his beatings are given instead to a poor whipping boy named Jemmy.  (It’s like when students today do poorly on standardized tests because they don’t study…and their teachers get fired.)  When Horace decides to run away, he makes Jemmy come along as his servant, thereby launching them into a series of adventures that seems like “The Prince and the Pauper – the Lost Episodes.”
           

 Along the way, the two young boys thwart two villainous thieves, they help a girl find her lost dancing bear, and they enable a kind old potato peddler to get rich by collecting a reward.  More importantly, the young prince sees the error of his spoiled ways so he can grow up to become a good and wise king.  So everyone lived happily ever after because they were all kept safe and sound by…
                                                          Errol Flynn.         

PICTURE SOURCES:
harpercollinschildrens.com
lalalandhistory.blogspot.com
moviemail-online.co.uk
guardian.co.uk