Everyone has a list

Now that Christmas is over, the "lists" have started to pop up. "Worst Books of 2012," "Best Books of 2012," "Best 10 Movies of the Twenty-first Century," etc. I'm suspicious of those. For instance the "Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of All Time" has Lord of the Rings at number 1, and Game of Thrones at number 2. And then people start asking why the 3 volume Ring is first, but GoT is addressed per volume. Which beggars a number of questions. For instance, why is it that George R.R. Martin is apparently ignorant that LotR was written as a single book (given what he posted in his Not a Blog on LiveJournal) because the publisher balked at publishing it that way so instead insisted its three parts be published separately? And more importantly,  it totally skips the question of how one of the top two spots did not go to Bradbury, or Asimov, or Verne, or Wells, or Clarke? I'm an "early adopter" of GoT, and even I think that placement isn't justified. I began to get grumpy.

So, in a form of mental self-defense I started making my own list in my head. Because I'm shallow , especially during Christmas break, it's episodic television episodes, and because of what was in front of my eyes at the time it's not "best" or "pivotal"--it's the episodes that have stuck in my head, years after I saw them, with more than the usual clarity. In no particular order, here they are, without commentary.

Star Trek: "For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky"
Supernatural: "Swan Song"
M*A*S*H*: "Old Soldiers"
Star Trek: The Next Generation: "Yesterday's Enterprise"
Twilight Zone: "The After Hours"
The Big Valley: "Into the Widow's Web"
Hawaii Five-O: "Once Upon a Time"
Magnum, PI: "Home from the Sea"
Babylon Five: "The Geometry of Shadows"
The West Wing: "Posse Comitatus"
Maude: "Maude's Dilemma"
WKRP in Cincinnati: "In Concert"
The Big Bang Theory: "The Codpiece Topology"

When Darkness Falls

by Mercedes Lackey

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I've only given this 4 stars (which may be unfair) because I was disappointed by the too tidy ending, but otherwise I would have given this a glowing 5 star rating. As it is, I can only give it a four--but that four has brilliant glowing stars, and its own fireworks display.

When Darkness Falls is the third book in the Obsidian Mountain Trilogy, and all of the disaster, despair, and danger of the first two volumes does come to a head here, in mostly satisfying ways. The characters continue to develop and grow, the secondary characters become essential parts of the fabric of the world, the strong and beautiful begin to crumble. At times the mood and tone rival Donaldson's Thomas Covenant books for sheer hopelessness, and the Battle for Armethalieh rivals, even exceeds, the Battle at Pelennor Fields for sheer devastation of what is good and true.

Since there is a trilogy set after this one I don't believe I give much away when I say that our heroes triumph at a terrible cost. And that was satisfying. But the cost is very high.

The book has some profound flaws. Lacey and Mallory are not particularly good at sustained battle sequences (a problem when so much of the volume is about, well, battles, both massed and single combat). They are much better at the magic--making it feel real, in all its varied forms. And they are good at putting us inside the consciousness of very different characters. There, nuance and detail abound, which makes the paucity of those same elements even more conspicuous in the battle scenes.

Still, this trilogy is one of the best fantasy sets I've read in a very long time. When I look around after I have been reading these for awhile I'm a little startled that I'm not in The Wild Lands, or the streets of the City of a Thousand Bells, or the Flower Forest of Sentarshadeen. I want to be back there, in the story. I keep reaching for the book, only to remember I've finished it, and that provokes a sense of loss. I want to go back, and be with Kellen, and Cilarnen, and Jermayan, and Idalia. I miss them already.

Thank Leaf and Star for bringing these books into the world. They gave me joy.



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I want a helicopter, too!

The Shooters by W.E.B. Griffin

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I enjoy The Presidential Agent series by Griffin, for all its flaws. It has many of the same characteristics I don't like in Tom Clancy novels (too much throwing away of names and specifications of various hardware), and the agency infighting can get a bit tedious in both. However, I enjoy them both for some of the same reasons--active story lines and interesting characters.

I could have done without the soap opera sub-text in this one, and all of the city hopping struck me as...not helpful in achieving the goal (i.e. it took way too much time to mount a rescue). But, even with its flaws, I'll pick up the next one and see what kind of fallout there is from this that Lt. Col. C. G. Castillo will have to make right now.



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Life Itself by Roger Ebert

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Since I read this for free, and now intend to buy it, I suppose that's a strong endorsement.

The book itself is uneven, and as is true of memoirs, occasionally comes across as self-absorbed, but Ebert writes well, and his memories come across with strong senses of place, and at times you can almost hear the voices of the various, very diverse personalities whose lives have intersected, or run beside, his. Martin Scorsese jumps off the page, the wonderful woman who helped his get sober, the friends who stayed with him through the years.

If you love films, read this book for the insights on how to watch films and the people who make them. If you love babyboomers read this for a snapshot of life at the beginning of that group.

(Oh, and how did I read this for free? In one hour increments at Barnes and Noble on my Nook. I never would have borrowed it from a library, or bought it, but being able to open it up and read it over lunch or tea, a bit at a time, I found a book to treasure that would have slipped past me unremarked. Thank you, Barnes and Noble.)



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Familiar Stars

Star Wars: Jedi Search by Kevin J. Anderson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Familiar characters, doing familiar things.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it was exactly what I wanted.

And I got my first introduction to Admiral Daala, which explains some things from later books.

Still like Han better than Luke. Is he ever going to grow out of being a moody teenager? *sigh*



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I'd Rather Some Tommy and Tuppence

The Modigliani Scandal by Ken Follett

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


For a long time I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was about this book that was so...familiar. And then I figured it out.

It reminds me of a Georgette Heyer London mystery (as opposed to one of her "cosy" mysteries, or Regency romances)--except Heyer does it much, much better.

Two days of reading out of my life that I'll never get back.



(And, yes, I know T&T are Christie, not Heyer.)



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When Worlds Collide

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I know many people who love this book.

Me, not so much. For instance, I was 2/3 of the way through it several years ago, lost it, and didn't really care.

But I found it again, and after a dear friend mentioned Hiro Protagonist the other day I thought, "Oh, what the heck. Let's finish it." Well. That's done.

Maybe I read it too far after it was published to find it very "cutting edge." Maybe I don't know enough/too much about computers and cyberspace to really get engaged by the central conceits. All I know is Uncle Enzo rocks, YT reminds me far too much of how Lisbeth Salander might have been had she grown up with a loving mother in Southern California, and I'm having a terrible time not merging Hiro Protagonist and Hiro Nakamura in my mind--though, frankly, I definitely prefer the latter.

What did I most take away from this book? The impulse to look at everyone I know and wonder what phrase I'd tattoo on their foreheads. Alas, there a many who, like Raven, should have the words "Poor Impulse Control" written in large friendly letters for everyone to see.

Now, where did I leave my towel?



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The real _Wrath of the Titans_?

I went to see Ridley Scott's Prometheus on Thursday.

Some of my friends loathed it, some loved it. I waited until the last possible moment to see it, and saw it in 2D, and don't think I missed much by the choice.

I'm going to write something coherent at some point, but since it's now out of the theaters, I'm not going to worry about spoilers. These are just impressions, not fully fleshed out thoughts.

1) Nice juxtaposition between image and action for the "founders" (big, round, friendly eyes--not-so-friendly behavior)

2) Michael Fassbender continues to impress. But, wow, he's short.

3) Charlize Theron was wasted in her role.

4) Idris Elba. :-)

5) I don't understand the David/O'Toole's T. E. Lawrence connection. I'm sure it was supposed to "reveal" something, but I didn't catch it/didn't understand it. And I've seen Lawrence of Arabia multiple times. And read about the real Lawrence. Need to think about it.

6) The critic's lampooning of the Jurassic Parkness of it was well-grounded, but sort of missed the point.

7) Nope. Still don't like horror movies. Had to keep my eyes shut--a lot.

8) Clearly, they're hoping for a sequel (Sara and David Visit Othrys?), but, really, haven't we seen that already? Isn't that the Terminator films?

9) What is it with Ridley Scott and heroines? I'm sure his psychiatrist wonders, too.

10) Should have gone to Magic Mike. Soderburgh also makes my head hurt, but in a totally different way.

Star Wars: Cloak of Deception by James Luceno

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This book is set just prior to events in The Phantom Menace. A colleague loaned it to me after I mentioned how I wished there was more Qui Gon Jinn in the Star Wars universe, since Qui Gon is really the hero of this book--the the extent it has one.

I thought the book was better written (in terms of Standard English conventions) than many Star Wars and Star Trek books. In terms of plot and character development, however, it was not very good. Too much plot for too little book. It's really a political thriller, and those require more words and development to be really successful. This book, in fact, is about average length for this genre, and as such, really didn't have the required pages to do the job.

But, it does make The Phantom Menace make a bit more sense. I'll take that, and call it enough.



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A Time for War, A Time for Peace by Keith R.A. DeCandido

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


This is the final book in the series that covers the gap between the films Insurrection and Nemesis.

I was, overall, disappointed in the book. While it effectively ties up all the loose ends from the six previous books, it is a bit too pat, and the story line itself is not very engaging. The one "action" plot line, which involved lots of Klingons, I might add, was...dull. (How, I wonder, can scenes that involve Klingons using weapons be dull? Yet, here it has been achieved. Impressive.) The Federation presidential election line was...politics as usual. And the Starfleet suspense line (with the gratuitous presence of Adm. Montgomery Scott) was...*yawn.* Even the Klingon politics, and the appearances by Martok, failed to engage. I can almost hear my mental warp engine gearing up to power, and then winding down pathetically.

Oh, well. Perhaps my problem is that it is too much character and talking, and not enough phasers and bat'leths.





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Heat Wave by Richard Castle

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


Fortunately, my expectations for this book were not high, so I suffered no sting of disappointed expectations.

It is a book "by" the character played by Nate Fillon on the TV show Castle. I enjoy Fillon, I enjoy the show, so I thought it would be a pleasant diversion to read the tie-in.

The problem is that in the TV show Rick Castle is presented as not only a successful, but a good writer of the genre, and his heroine, Nikki Heat, as being sexy, strong, and compelling. Alas, the book is average at best, bordering on mediocre, and Nikki is self-indulgent, and condescending, bordering on mean.

Next time I'm tempted to pick up a Nikki Heat book, I think I'll just pop in a Castle DVD. I don't like the heroine any better, but I like the surrounding characters MUCH more.



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Murder On Monday by Ann Purser

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I wanted to like this book.

I love the "cozy" style of mystery, and if the setting is English, so much the better. In those respects, this book was exactly what I expected. And I liked the notion that the amateur sleuth was a young working class mother with a working class husband.

There was nothing wrong with the mystery itself. And the author even managed some brief shifts of point of view (letting us into the minds of many of the suspects and some of the other villagers) deftly. The writing was unobjectionable--not stellar, but I didn't find myself editing the grammar and language as I went along, and for a thin little paperback that is what I require.

No, the problem is I don't like the amateur sleuth at the heart of the story. For all she's got some great kids, a supportive mom, and a not-perfect, but hard-working, loving husband, she's self-absorbed, quick to take offense, judgmental.... These, of course, are perfectly human attributes, and she's basically a decent human being, but I find I really don't want to spend time with her, her daughter, nor really even husband Derek. I certainly don't want to spend time with the coppers who use her to dig up information by snooping on her clients.

So, that was an interesting experience, but not one I think I'll repeat with any of the successive novels. Purser's books are published by the same house that does the Susan Wittig Albert China Bayles series. I think I'll stick to those.



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Oath of Fealty by Elizabeth Moon

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I had forgotten just how much I love the world Paksenarrion lives in.

A few months ago Elizabeth Moon (reminder--she's a veteran) said something that got her in hot water with some of the fantasy/science fiction community. It was an honest comment, that read in full I didn't find that objectionable, but in sound bite was...not very PC. She got disinvited to WisCon (where she was originally slated as Guest of Honor), and the blogosphere went rather rabid for a bit. So I started reading her blog. Often it's about singing in her church choir. And cooking. And her, and her husband's health. And writing. This past year her new book, Kings of the North came out, and she was understandably enthusiastic. The more she wrote I realized that it was the second in a new set of books set in Paks's world. I had completely missed that she'd returned there, and frankly, after Surrender None, I'd sort of lost my taste for the series. This book, Oath of Fealty, is the first. So I got it as soon as I could devote the time to reading it.

Oath of Fealty is that rarest of books--the one where you want more detail, more dialogue, more description, even though it is richly textured, full of clear images, and conversations. It's just that when she changes scenes, you aren't ready to leave yet--you're having too good a time, you're so immersed in what's happening there, in that moment, that you don't want it to end. Who cares about moving the plot along! I want to sit around while Doran goes from village to village cleaning out the blood magic, no matter how "tedious" that might seem. I want to spend time with Kieri while he figures out the finances for Lyonya. I want to go with Jandolir when he goes to the bankers in each town, and listen to what they say, not just when it's moving the plot forward. Moon has made these people ones I want to spend time with, work with, support with word and deed. But for those who love plot, there's plenty. Ambush, and skullduggery, blood magics, and sword play. And loyalty, and growth, and people you can believe in.

When I finished the book it was with a real sense of emptiness--like leaving a beloved place. Fortunately, I have the next on order!



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The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This book is nothing like the kind of thing I choose to read. It is the kind of thing found in the "New fiction" section at Barnes and Noble, or "Literature" in other places. I'm a genre fiction sort of girl, and so this isn't something I'd have ever read under normal conditions.

But, when the Vice President comes flying down the hall to give you her copy because she's sure you'd enjoy it...well.... And to be fair, we did talk about it when we were doing the Walk for the Cure in October, and our tastes do overlap considerably.

So, I figured--what the heck! I'll give it a go.

It was lovely.

The narrative voice is...witty, and acerbic, and warm (as appropriate), and just a little odd. Odd in a good way (a very original use of first person). It has three interesting sisters as the protagonists--and this is the chick-lit part that normally I don't go near--who are growing, and learning, and becoming better than they start out the book as.

There were some uncomfortable moments, like seeing some of what I like least about myself on the page; some events are near triggers given what is going on in the lives of some friends; and making me feel homesick for the family I've lost, for dreams I abandoned. But, for all that, I'm glad I read it.

But, of course, I've gone on too long, a bit incoherently. If I were the father in this novel, I'd simply have said,

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream..."



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An Irish Country Doctor by Patrick Taylor

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I'm somewhat bashful to admit that I absolutely loved this book.

It is an inescapable fact that this book is reminiscent of All Creatures Great and Small in some ways, or Ballykissangel, and if you don't like those, you won't like this book. I found those pleasant enough, but not as engaging as the world Patrick Taylor has created here.

The voices of the characters are distinct, they're charming, annoying, dotty, nasty...in short, a village of people. The events are simple day to day experiences in a rural town in Northern Ireland when Jack Kennedy was newly dead, the lads from Liverpool were solidly on track, and a new band led by some kid named Jagger was starting to make noise. The second wave of The Troubles hadn't begun, and there were many who remembered the first round, and worried about a young cleric named Iain Paisley and the things he was saying. But that is all background noise to little girls with appendicitis, old men with heart trouble living in their cars, and young men desperate to "do the right thing" but unable to marry the girl unless there's enough money to support the three of them.

There are four more books in the series. I'm going to fight the urge to tear through them. They are short, and there are times when I think I'll desperately need to get away to Ballybucklebo, and Fingal O'Reilly, Barry Laverty, Kinky, Lady Macbeth, and Arthur Guinness--the Smithwicks loving retriever. Yes, I'll keep these, as they say, "in my back pocket," for when the need arises. Who'd have thought this Republic loving girl would grow so fond, so quickly, of some folk from the 6 counties.



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Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


When I was in junior high school I saw A Man for All Seasons and Anne of a Thousand Days fairly close to each other. They jumble a bit in my mind, and I often find myself remembering Burton as Henry VIII in scenes with Paul Scofield as Thomas More (no--that would have been Robert Shaw, in a masterful stroke of hideous mis-casting). Nonetheless, those two films early on formed many of my ideas about that period of British history. Then add in Keith Mitchell in The Six Wives of Henry the Eighth. Now add in all my catechism classes as a good Catholic girl. And that the chapel at my graduate school (as at many) was St. Thomas More Chapel. I think you can see where I'm going with this.

So, I came to Wolf Hall thinking that I was venturing into well-known territories. The tragedy of Henry's conflicted conscience and libido; the noble Katherine; the pitiable Mary; the horrible Anne; the venal Wolsey; the ambitious Norfolk; the wise More; and the greedy, villainous Thomas Cromwell. I was utterly unprepared for what I found instead.

This book is told from the point of view of Cromwell. In its pages you find a patriotic Wolsey, a fragile Henry, and all of the other characters are painted in equally unforeseen ways. Most surprising of all in the their presentations are More, and most especially Cromwell--who we see as son, father, husband, widower, master, and friend. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive Mantel for creating a Cromwell I can care about.

The writing itself is a marvel, and I fully understand why it won the Booker. While unrelentingly first person, there is a surprising lack of ego in the voice, and at times it wanders into dream, or fever, and yet there is never any sense of wrongness, just a change of perspective that throws everything before and after into a new light.

As this book ends Thomas More has just lost his head. There are more volumes to come, we are told. I'm not sure I can bear to read them, because, as history tells us, the lords pull Cromwell down, and Henry claims his head. This is a moment in history I am used to cheering. I wonder if I am strong enough, brave enough, to face a chance that I will mourn this Cromwell. Or even that I may weep.





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The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


On one level I liked this book quite a bit. Having taught A Night to Remember, and being a fan of the Belle Epoch, there's a lot about this book to love.

It takes place solidly on the line between gaslight and electricity, between the Victorian social and commercial paradigms and Womens Suffurage and the rise of Unions. It is also set in a period disturbingly like our own as America and the world suffer with catastrophic economic downturns provoked by the greed and profiteering of a few, bank mismanagement, and the excesses that come when the middle and lower classes live like grasshoppers instead of ants. The book is populated with the rich and famous of those times--Sarah Bernhardt, Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley, George Pullman, Marshall Field, and dozens of others who walk through its pages; others, like Frank Lloyd Wright and Walt Disney are directly connected to the events and characters. American consumer icons are born before our eyes--Shredded Wheat, Cracker Jacks, and a dozen others. Not to mention wonders that are born during the events of the book that brighten our nights and our imaginations to this day.

Then there are the darker, parallel threads in the book--a sociopath and a madman, each with his own narrative thread, moving beneath the bright distractions of the Columbian Exhibition of 1892 and Chicago's obsession with its "White City."

There are also important figures I'd never heard of, most conspicuously Daniel Hudson Burnham. If this book has a protagonist, it is Burnham--architect of the Columbian Exhibition as well as the Masonic Temple in Chicago, the Flatiron Building in New York, and Filene's in Boston, to name a few. He is also a major figure in the city planning movement, and was influential in the design of the National Mall in Washington, D.C. His struggles to be recognized for his talent, and then the Herculean efforts required to bring the Columbian Exhibition to life, are the heart of this book.

And, unfortunately, that is where the author loses me at times. His personal fascination with the intricacies of building skyscrapers on the unstable land that is Chicago, the minutia of pallets, and grosses, and tons of material, the obsessions of Fredrick Law Olmsted (who designed, among other things, New York's Central Park) when it came to the landscapes of the Exhibition, all become a bit numbing.

Additionally, the title of the book implies an equal balance in the content between "The Devil" (serial killer H.H. Holmes) and "The White City" (the Exhibition's "Court of Honor"), but the balance is uneven. I didn't count the words, but at the very least the writing made it feel as though far more time was spent on one than the other, so I felt a bit deceived.

It is hard for me to not be intrigued by a book that starts aboard the White Star Line's luxury liner The Olympic on April 14, 1912; and I feel I learned many things I am glad to know. Also, I'd be lying if I said I didn't find the Holmes thread compelling--after all, Criminal Minds, about the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, is one of my favorite shows--it's only a matter of time before the writers use Holmes as a template for the "unsub" (Unknown Subject) for one of the episodes. And even poor, deranged Prendergast will live in my memory. Still, I come away dissatisfied with the book as a whole. This is one of those times when the whole is less than the sum of its parts.



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Paths of Glory by Jeffrey Archer

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I've read a number of books by Archer (loved First Among Equals, but this biography of George Mallory, the team-leader on the first two European attempts to ascend Everest (and possibly even the first to reach the summit) is first non-fiction I've read by him.

It was up to Archer's usual prose standard, which is fairly high. However, I did have extended periods of a little voice in the back of my head saying "he [Archer] couldn't know this." I like there to be a brighter line between "biography" and "historical fiction" than the one Archer draws. The other problem I have is that at times this biography/true life adventure comes across as more hagiography than biography.

But, that said, I felt my time was well-spent with this book. Even if Archer himself apparently leaves a lot to be desired.



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Inside Nancy's Noodle: Why Can't Churches Be More Like Contra-dances?

Inside Nancy's Noodle: Why Can't Churches Be More Like Contra-dances?

Walking a Mile in Their Shoes

I recently returned from a conference in Philadelphia. Our transportation to the conference, where we stayed, all the monies for room and conference fees, were taken care of by the college. We were on our own for gas, parking, food and incidentals, though we can put in reimbursement requests for most of that.

The conference was an innovations in education themed event, with presentations and roundtables, all about innovation in the community college and its classrooms. Predictably, most of the sessions focused on the use of technology to invigorate learning, power better learning techniques, present information, enhance knowledge, make assessment easier (both at the classroom and institution level). In short, it was full of the tech geeks of education. You had people who rely on their Smartphones, iPads, laptops, and access to the wide wonderful wireless world in order to function.

The conference was held at the Marriot Downtown/Convention Center. Which is a "business" hotel--in short, the majority of patrons are placed there by businesses, where the business pays all fees, etc.--like parking and, wait for it....wireless access. In the entire hotel there were two "hotspots"--one in the Starbucks off the lobby, and one in a little raised area that seated about 50 (the conference attendees were upwards of 1400). There was NO access in any of the conference rooms--which made it difficult for many of the presenters since their presentations were designed around links to the web that they couldn't access. The conference did set up a set of laptops so that conference attendees could check their email. Otherwise, it was $12.98 a day to have internet access in your room. Those were your options.

The irony burns.

Then, our happy little band had other problems. There was a communication failure between the funding and the hotel's computer, that meant some of us couldn't check in (that was settled within a couple of hours, but it was very unwelcome after 7 hours in a car and one of us having not eaten in 14). We also hadn't been warned that this hotel, unlike others where I've attended conferences on the college's dime, required each of us to use one of our own debit ($25 hold, per day--there 5 days, $125 hold) or credit cards (ummmm--don't have one!) to have on file for "incidental expenses." That put a serious dent in some of our abilities to, well, eat. Also, unlike most of the conferences I have attended, parking in the hotel's garage was an additional charge-$38 a day in this case, rather than comped for those with rooms in the hotel. And in the past when using a college vehicle the college's fleet gas cards were provided. When we opened the envelope there were no cards, so again, an unplanned expense. While none of these were unreasonable (we'll get reimbursed for the gas and parking), and spread between four fully employed adults, they were unexpected, and at least one of us did not have the resources to adjust.

But as I looked at the situation, and heard extremely frustrated conference attendees complaining about the lack of wireless access, I thought to myself, "Now you know how students feel."

Let me see if I can explain what I mean.

Showing up at the desk, having done "everything right," and being told, despite our paperwork showing that we'd done "everything right," being told we can't check in because the money isn't showing up is like the student who does all the work for financial aid and goes to register and is told she can't because her "financial aid hasn't come through yet." There she is, with all her life in her car, her classes planned, and she gets deregistered and put through emotional hell, because some piece of paperwork got lost in some office somewhere between her and the college. It isn't her fault, it isn't the college's fault, but her impulse is to take it out on either the person who organized everything or the person who has just given her the bad news.

Then there is the student who doesn't make a pest of themselves to inquire about every little fee, every little possible difference between this new college and the college she last attended. Is wireless included in my dorm fee, or do I have to pay extra? Can I park on campus, and is there an additional college parking fee? She gets there, thinking everything is covered, because at her last college all those things were rolled into her dorm fee, and at her brother's college they are, too, so that must be true here, too. Right? No. So now she either has to come up with parking money on top of everything else, and she can't get wireless in her room because she didn't pay the fee, and she can't until she gets her refund check from her loan. Or she could park on the street--5 blocks away, and hope her car doesn't get stolen, towed, or broken into. And remember to move it so she doesn't get tickets. Joy. So she pays for parking, and that cuts into her food for the next two weeks, because she doesn't have enough to sign up for the meal plan, and she's left with only $50 for two weeks, and all the food on campus is SO expensive and she can't cook in her room--there isn't even a refrigeratior, unless she rents one of those! And now she's mad that the college didn't make information clearer in the literature, and mad at herself for not asking annoying questions, because she hates the tone people use when they answer her.

So she checks in to the dorm, after parking her car, and the room is wonderful. And she likes her professors, but she still has to finish the online work from her summer class, because that semester is still going on, even though she's at her new college because unlike half the people at her new school, she isn't on break--she still has work. But she doesn't have wireless in her room, so she has to either haul her laptop off campus to somewhere like Barnes and Noble or Starbucks, and spend money she doesn't have to drink something so she can work there and not be thrown out, or she has to use one of the open labs on campus, and hope there is a computer free. And there are governors on how much data she can use for free, and if she uses too much, it shuts her down and she has to pay an additional access fee. Or maybe she can find people who have access in their room, and use theirs, but she's not that desperate yet.

But she's stressed, and annoyed, and feels jerked around. Because communication was bad, things didn't work as promised, or things were not as expected.

I see those students every fall, and every spring. And I saw people just like them at the conference--they were my colleagues. They were the face in my mirror. I hope those professors and deans, the next time they see a student dealing with the same issues, remember how it felt to be in a strange place, feeling helpless and a little bit betrayed by those they trusted and a system that seemed designed to defeat them. It's not about fault, it's not about blame, and it's usually not about "fixing" it. It's about empathy. It's about compassion. It's about looking them in the eye, and saying, "I understand," and having that be true.

When Tradition Trumps Utility

Recently, in another forum, a woman I used to babysit for was ranting about the fact that "they're no longer teaching cursive in schools." Hmmm.

Ah. Handwriting. When I was growing up, the handwriting in my house was a joy to behold. Daddy went through a spell of being very sick when he was at the age when students were learning cursive. He was stuck in bed for several months, and to make the time pass (this was the 1920's, and even radio wasn't omnipresent), he practiced his penmanship. He developed this wonderful hand, that was pointy, and angular, and...gorgeous. One of my most treasured possessions is four lines of verse he wrote for me, in his own hand.

Momma, on the other hand, was a product of Palmer Method. Moreover, as she was naturally left-hand dominant (back in the 30's, when teachers routinely smashed the hands of students using their left hands for pretty much anything), learning Palmer method with her non-dominant hand was a trial--one, like so many, she assailed, crushed, and danced on in triumph. Her hand was gorgeous--round, flowing. Even when the schleroderma and arthritis made writing a trial, her hand was beautiful and legible.

So it is no wonder that as a child and teenager I wanted my penmanship to be beautiful, but distinctive. I took a bit from Daddy, a lot from Momma, but put my own spin on it. Writing hurts these days, but when I take the time, even now, people look at my handwriting and say "Your handwriting is beautiful," and for a moment it feels like Momma has her hand on one shoulder and Daddy the other, squeezing with pride.

So it may come as a surprise that when Lisa ranted about the lack of cursive instruction in the classroom my response can best be summed up by the phrase "So what?"

Perhaps my problem comes from knowing too much about the history of writing. Our cursive manuscript today is derived primarily from Carolingian Miniscule. Carolingian Miniscule was a hand developed for governing purposes to speed up the time it took to make multiple copies of documents from the Emperor Charlemagne to distribute to vassals and government officials (he who also thought that teaching people to read was a good thing). The calligraphy used before CM was labor intensive and took a significant amount of time, but the connected nature of the letters in CM, which meant fewer lifts of the pen from the vellum or parchment, increased the copier's speed.

Most cursive hands since (excepting extremely ornamented hands like Spencerian and others of that sort) have been devised mostly for legibility and speed of transcription. When the bulk of writing is done by hand, it is essential to make that writing readable and quickly produced.

However, it has been a long time since government and business relied primarily on handwritten documents. And for at least the last twenty years even those documents with sections to be filled in by hand have had,in teeny tiny letters, "Block letters only," or, in more polite circles, "Block letters please." A few years ago the U.S. Postal Service even sent out a communique informing the public that envelopes and packages addressed with cursive script were not guaranteed delivery. Hell--they don't even want you to use upper and lower case!

Even in academia, at every level, more and more "writing" is done in an electronic environment, with a keyboard, even for in-class and standardized tests. And when scribing is done, block letters work perfectly well (and when done with an electronic stylus and pad, block works even better).

Cursive script, as it existed for those of us who were schooled before the 1980's, is not the same as it is now. It does not serve the same utility, and it was for that utility--legible, quickly written documents--that it occupied time in the classroom. Given the amount of material an elementary teacher has to get through, given the time it takes to teach students cursive, if they have no need for it (and, let's face it, they really don't), then teaching it in school becomes uselessly quaint. Cursive script is now most appropriate for calligraphic purposes, and that is how it should be taught. In art class.

However, if they start getting rid of the teaching of writing altogether, I'll have a problem, because that will be throwing the baby away with the bathwater.

I look forward with no more joy than the next person to attics empty of letters written in beautiful cursive hands, where you can tell Grandma's letters from Aunt Josie's without even reading the names, but those days are gone. And holding onto the relic that is the cursive hand will not change that.

Art and Utility

I'm in the process of starting the organizing of the new semester. This involves thinking about assignment sequencing, supporting documents, and myriad other pieces of minutia. Some of it is tedious, some of it is fun, and some of it is perplexing.

The perplexing happened today. One of the textbook companies sent me a new "reader" (an anthology of essays that exemplify "good writing" in various modes, by various authors, throughout the ages) and I was reviewing it to see if there was A) any reason to ask future students to buy it and B) if there were any particularly good essays in it I could use for pedagogical purposes. Well, the answer to both was no.

Let's be clear. The anthology is full of excellent writing, by superior authors. Much of it is interesting, and readable. If this was a book I was considering for a class on "The Art of Personal Essay Writing" or "Provocative Thoughts for the New Millenium" I might easily say of this book "That's it!" in my best Lucy Van Pelt voice. But, no, this is a class called "College English" and there is very little in the book that is a model for college and post-college writers other than the use of Standard English. This is not a modeling to be scorned, but is insufficient for the task at hand. I need something that will model good writing of the type the students will be rewarded for producing, that is consistent with the tasks they will be asked to perform.

Again, it is important to be clear. The essays in the anthology do demonstrate critical thinking, use of evidence, and explication. These are some of what students will be asked to do both within the institution and when they leave its "not-so-ivy-covered" halls. The problem with the essays as exemplars is they are...too "arty." As they should be--they were, for the most part, written for a purpose and an audience that would seek these essays out as part of a leisure activity in which part of the point is to travel along with the slow unraveling of argument in a desultory, often evocative way, during which time the reader revels both in the ideas being presented and the artistry and nuance of the presentation.

Given that one of the things we stress for students is that they attend to the purpose for which the reader comes to the writing as a guide for how the piece should be written, these essays would be ideal for models of the writing leisure reading non-fiction.

However, with the possible exception of one or two assignments in an English 1 class, or the student studying "Creative Writing:Non-fiction," the purposes for which the reader comes to student-written material is unlikely in the extreme to be this kind of writing. As such--these essays as models are worse than useless. They are misleading, and ultimately leave students confused.

Why? Students are most often asked to clearly and articulately argue for a narrowly defined interpretation, course of action, or evaluation; clearly inform a reader about a specific issue, event, or person; or demonstrate understanding in a straightforward manner, even if the understanding itself is nuanced or nebulous. Their readers (whether faculty, fellow students, employers, or co-workers) want the structure to be conventional and the points clearly sign-posted. When evaluating quality, the discerning reader will value an elegant use of language (though they are more likely to reward Dior than Gaga in this), and will enjoy the occasional play of wit or personality, but the personality of the writer should not dominate the writing. If you present the student writer with models by Twain and Didion, Swift and Sartre (and don't even get me on the questionable value of using translated works), personality is often the very meat and bones of the piece, with the actual point being the flourish, not the substance. And the signposts are subtle, sometimes only visible upon re-reading a second or third time. The writing students are asked to do is the type where the readers require clarity on the first pass--and that obligates the writer to certain elements that are almost antithetical to the kind of writing exemplified in this, as well as most, academic "readers."

Further, the length of the pieces is an obstacle--not in the reading (though, truthfully, students quail at the thought of much beyond a 2000)--as a model. For one thing, in most of these cases to make the point the author is trying to make, the way they are trying to make it, requires pieces of this length. They are perfectly appropriate to the writer's goals and the readers' expectations and desires. Again, student writing, particularly at the 100 level, generally runs between 500-1000 words, and the purposes and expectations of the reader are best met within this frame. This requires a different kind of thesis, a different kind of progression, than the kind exemplified in these essays. Once students move outside of our "hallowed halls" the writing they are expected to do will be more within these strictures than that of these beautiful examples of expository prose.

Unfortunately, none of the readers I've found that have examples of the kind of writing students are actually asked to do seem to include examples that are structurally valid models and well-written. They either have all the use of language nuance one would expect of a memo from "Chuck" at "New Zealand Tire and Wreck" about the kegger on Friday after work, or they are a 500-1000 word excerpts from a longer piece (and if you don't want to hear my rant on translations, then you REALLY don't want to hear my rant on excerpts).

Truly, somewhere, somehow, there must be a company willing to put together an anthology of articles 500-2000 words long, non-fiction, from business, science, and social issues (including media, personalities, politics, and culture) that are structurally sound, demonstrate good critical thinking, and are examples of excellent use of grammar, vocabulary, tone, and voice. And, before you ask, no--I'm not willing to ask for a 1 year sabbatical to try to put one together.

So, Dear Santa, next year for Christmas, I would like....