I'm reading J.R. Ward's newest book, Covet. Despite all of my issues with the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, I find Ward endlessly readable. Affected dialogue patterns and her habit of turning nouns into verbs aside, her characters really appeal to my love of uber-protective alpha heroes.
I am having one tiny issue, however. One of the secondary characters (who, I suspect, is in line to become a primary character in a future book) has been described as having several face piercings. I'm only about eight chapters in, but I already know he has a ring in his lip. And it's been made clear this isn't the only place on his face that he's poked holes into.
I personally find face piercing a disgusting from of self-mutilation.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
TSTL: Not Just for Heroines
I've been watching this season's TV darling, Glee. It's cute. The music is really fun (although I have yet to feel the urge to download any of the performances off iTunes so that phenomenon escapes me), and the characters are interesting. The show clearly sees itself as camp because most of the characters are so over-the-top cartoonish no one could be expected to take them seriously. Between the cheerleaders who ALWAYS wear their cheerleading uniforms to the bombastic bully of a cheer coach, Sue, and the germaphobe guidance counselor Emma, nuance is a concept that is ignored completely.
But I do have one fundamental problem with the show that is getting to the point where I'm thinking of bailing.
Warning: this post includes SPOILERS for Glee. Don't read after the cut if you don't want to read SPOILERS.
But I do have one fundamental problem with the show that is getting to the point where I'm thinking of bailing.
Warning: this post includes SPOILERS for Glee. Don't read after the cut if you don't want to read SPOILERS.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
You've Got to Want It
I headed to Barnes & Noble today to pick up two new releases I've been waiting for, Meljean Brook's Demon Forged and Lynn Viehl's Shadowlight. I've ranted before about my feelings on B&N of late, but I have a membership that gives me 10% off all purchases. That pays for my tax plus a little bit more, so I'm financially motivated to deal with my issues.
Anyway, I headed to B&N thinking that it now being Thursday, for absolute sure the employees would have unpacked the Tuesday releases boxes, so the books should be on the shelves. I park with little angst (oh, happy day) and head toward the up escalator since Fiction is housed on the second level. I pass by a two-sided display kiosk with new mass market paperback releases and spot J.R. Ward's new Covet. I'm a bit ambivalent about this book. I find Ward highly addictive, but she also frustrates the heck out of me. And this review over at Dear Author puts me directly on the middle of the fence. But since I'm going to be getting the other two books, I grab Covet thinking, what the heck. Just in case, I check the kiosk for Demon Forged and/or Shadowlight but didn't find either one.
Once upstairs I hit the Romance aisle, start at the As and stop when I hit "Brockmann". Okay, Meljean's books should be coming up pretty soon. But then I'm at "Brooks" and I know I haven't skipped it, so I begin to scratch my head. Maybe Meljean's series is shelved in Fantasy instead of Romance although I clearly recall finding the other titles in Romance. I mosey on down to the end of the Romance aisle looking for the Vs. Sure enough, there are Lynn Viehl's Darkyn books, but no Shadowlight. Again, I'm thinking I'm just in the wrong section according to the B&N shelving gurus.
As much as I don't like the new B&N's parking setup, they do offer handy self-help computers for people like me who want to find things on their own, without the help of a store employee. I click my way to both books, find that both books are in-stock, and that both books are, supposedly, shelved in Romance not Fantasy. Hmmmm.
I go back to the Romance aisle. I look again in the Bs. I check the Vs carefully. I check the "New Romance Releases" wall. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
I start to get annoyed. I'm ready to put back my copy of Covet and head over to Borders. Once back on the main floor, I spot a number of New Release displays scattered about. One by one, I inspect each and every slot. Lo and behold, there I found Demon Forged. Now I'm in a quandry. Do I settle for 2/3? Do I put two back, head to Borders and gamble on finding all 3? Do I bang my head against the wall and cry?
Wouldn't you know, a few displays later I bumped into Shadowlight.
So, I had to work for these books. And while leaving the store, I pondered what I would want if I were an author with a new release. Sure, I'd love - LOVE - to have my books displayed on a special stand that calls attention to them, hopefully catching one or two casual browsers who might otherwise walk right on by. But how frustrating for others who come looking for the book specifically to not find it where they expected it to be. Or where even the store's computer believes it to be.
I know from my days working at a B&N that displays are constantly changing, books are always on the move, and it's near impossible to keep up with the exact location of a title at any given moment. I learned never to promise a customer we had a specific book until I held it in my hands because even though the computer might say we had it on the shelf didn't mean I'd actually be able to locate it.
Ideally, bookstores would put a couple copies on the "correct" shelf and have plenty more to create a display or fill a kiosk slot. But even if they attempt this good faith exercise to satisfy looky-loos and specific shoppers, within hours their efforts may be undone by the sale of just one or two copies. Too, I get the impression that unless you're Dan Brown, Stephenie Meyer or J.K. Rowling, chances are stores don't get shipped box upon box of your titles to create magnificent, showy displays. If they get a dozen copies, good luck keeping track of them.
Anyway, I've got my books. All's right in the world. I still hate B&N's new location, though.
Anyway, I headed to B&N thinking that it now being Thursday, for absolute sure the employees would have unpacked the Tuesday releases boxes, so the books should be on the shelves. I park with little angst (oh, happy day) and head toward the up escalator since Fiction is housed on the second level. I pass by a two-sided display kiosk with new mass market paperback releases and spot J.R. Ward's new Covet. I'm a bit ambivalent about this book. I find Ward highly addictive, but she also frustrates the heck out of me. And this review over at Dear Author puts me directly on the middle of the fence. But since I'm going to be getting the other two books, I grab Covet thinking, what the heck. Just in case, I check the kiosk for Demon Forged and/or Shadowlight but didn't find either one.
Once upstairs I hit the Romance aisle, start at the As and stop when I hit "Brockmann". Okay, Meljean's books should be coming up pretty soon. But then I'm at "Brooks" and I know I haven't skipped it, so I begin to scratch my head. Maybe Meljean's series is shelved in Fantasy instead of Romance although I clearly recall finding the other titles in Romance. I mosey on down to the end of the Romance aisle looking for the Vs. Sure enough, there are Lynn Viehl's Darkyn books, but no Shadowlight. Again, I'm thinking I'm just in the wrong section according to the B&N shelving gurus.
As much as I don't like the new B&N's parking setup, they do offer handy self-help computers for people like me who want to find things on their own, without the help of a store employee. I click my way to both books, find that both books are in-stock, and that both books are, supposedly, shelved in Romance not Fantasy. Hmmmm.
I go back to the Romance aisle. I look again in the Bs. I check the Vs carefully. I check the "New Romance Releases" wall. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
I start to get annoyed. I'm ready to put back my copy of Covet and head over to Borders. Once back on the main floor, I spot a number of New Release displays scattered about. One by one, I inspect each and every slot. Lo and behold, there I found Demon Forged. Now I'm in a quandry. Do I settle for 2/3? Do I put two back, head to Borders and gamble on finding all 3? Do I bang my head against the wall and cry?
Wouldn't you know, a few displays later I bumped into Shadowlight.
So, I had to work for these books. And while leaving the store, I pondered what I would want if I were an author with a new release. Sure, I'd love - LOVE - to have my books displayed on a special stand that calls attention to them, hopefully catching one or two casual browsers who might otherwise walk right on by. But how frustrating for others who come looking for the book specifically to not find it where they expected it to be. Or where even the store's computer believes it to be.
I know from my days working at a B&N that displays are constantly changing, books are always on the move, and it's near impossible to keep up with the exact location of a title at any given moment. I learned never to promise a customer we had a specific book until I held it in my hands because even though the computer might say we had it on the shelf didn't mean I'd actually be able to locate it.
Ideally, bookstores would put a couple copies on the "correct" shelf and have plenty more to create a display or fill a kiosk slot. But even if they attempt this good faith exercise to satisfy looky-loos and specific shoppers, within hours their efforts may be undone by the sale of just one or two copies. Too, I get the impression that unless you're Dan Brown, Stephenie Meyer or J.K. Rowling, chances are stores don't get shipped box upon box of your titles to create magnificent, showy displays. If they get a dozen copies, good luck keeping track of them.
Anyway, I've got my books. All's right in the world. I still hate B&N's new location, though.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
The Dying Art
Just discovered this article about the dying art of cursive writing. It's very apropos to the homework situation at my house because cursive writing is required for all of my son's work this year, short of math of course.
As I did back in my day, my kids were both taught cursive in 3rd grade. Our school requires that all non-number related work in 4th grade must be done in cursive. I think this is great since it forces the kids to practice and apply the cursive skills they learned the year before. It does cause some angst at our house because my son writes very carefully and very s-l-o-w-l-y when using cursive, so homework takes three times longer. I think it's also caused him extra stress at school when he's given an assignment and only a certain amount of to time work because he fears he won't be able to complete it. I keep telling him that a) with practice, the cursive writing will come faster and b) maybe he doesn't need to be so very careful after all.
Thing is, after 4th grade, cursive becomes optional. My daughter never uses cursive. Granted, she's at that age when everything she does, including her writing, is very affected. No i is dotted or exclamation point accentuated without a little circle. Drives me crazy, but I'm pretty sure she'll grow out if it the way she grew out of wanting to be a Disney princess. Still, she either prints her assignments or types them up on the computer. If the school is only going to enforce one year of cursive practice, no way can it be expected to stick permanently. And if it's not going to stick, why bother?
While I hate the idea of cursive writing going the way of calligraphy, I'm not sure it's such a tragedy if it becomes somewhat diminished in importance as far as things to focus on at school. I myself use the computer so much that the act of handwriting even an excuse note to send to school wears me out, and my print/cursive hybrid writing is nothing to brag on. I think most adults develop some kind of combo style they use when they are reduced to actually putting pen or pencil to paper. So all that time I spent on learning cursive back in grade school seems pointless now.
I'd much prefer the school make kids print very neatly than worry about cursive, especially if they are going to forget all about it after the 4th grade. It's a fact of the world in this century that a huge majority of the writing our kids will do will be via a keyboard, either computer, text, or touch screen. Having beautiful penmanship will put them in high demand when it comes time for their friends to address wedding invitations or land them that gig painting Renn Faire signage, but it's not going to get them into that prestigious Ivy League school or help them move up the work ladder any more quickly. In fact, it makes more sense to me that the time spent teaching cursive would be better used teaching proper keyboarding technique instead so we don't end up with an entire generation of point-and-poke single finger typers.
It's a matter of focusing on the skills necessary to operate in today's world. How many people today know how to use a slide rule? Once upon a time, well formed cursive served a purpose. What purpose does it serve today that isn't being met by another tool? If cursive was originally used to speed up writing - more words on the page in less time - I would argue that typing on a keyboard is way faster than that.
My issue is that both of my kids have atrocious handwriting, in my opinion. My son's cursive is very well formed, but when he prints, I have a hard time reading his writing. And while I can read my daughter's papers, she seems completely oblivious to the poorly erased mistakes that interfere with a neat, pride-filled presentation. I often worry that they will be marked down for illegible writing, but so far the teachers are proving to have better deciphering skills than I do. Maybe it's that I'm overestimating the skill level I expect at their respective ages, but I just think my writing at that point in my life was much better. I feel I'm constantly nagging for them to write neater, go slower, erase better and "take some pride in your work!"
Perhaps cursive writing is something that should be delegated to an elective in high school the way other art forms are. I would be much happier to have my kids work on printing well than knowing how to write in cursive, never using that skill, and have sloppy handwriting in any form.
And just because a person doesn't know how to write in cursive doesn't mean he or she doesn't know how to write at all. My dad made me learn to drive a car with manual transmission before I could get my driver's license. I haven't driven a stick shift car in ten years. Sure, I know I can if I need to, and that's reassuring whenever I have to rent a moving truck. But if I'd never learned to do it in the first place, I'd still be able to get myself where I needed to go.
As I did back in my day, my kids were both taught cursive in 3rd grade. Our school requires that all non-number related work in 4th grade must be done in cursive. I think this is great since it forces the kids to practice and apply the cursive skills they learned the year before. It does cause some angst at our house because my son writes very carefully and very s-l-o-w-l-y when using cursive, so homework takes three times longer. I think it's also caused him extra stress at school when he's given an assignment and only a certain amount of to time work because he fears he won't be able to complete it. I keep telling him that a) with practice, the cursive writing will come faster and b) maybe he doesn't need to be so very careful after all.
Thing is, after 4th grade, cursive becomes optional. My daughter never uses cursive. Granted, she's at that age when everything she does, including her writing, is very affected. No i is dotted or exclamation point accentuated without a little circle. Drives me crazy, but I'm pretty sure she'll grow out if it the way she grew out of wanting to be a Disney princess. Still, she either prints her assignments or types them up on the computer. If the school is only going to enforce one year of cursive practice, no way can it be expected to stick permanently. And if it's not going to stick, why bother?
While I hate the idea of cursive writing going the way of calligraphy, I'm not sure it's such a tragedy if it becomes somewhat diminished in importance as far as things to focus on at school. I myself use the computer so much that the act of handwriting even an excuse note to send to school wears me out, and my print/cursive hybrid writing is nothing to brag on. I think most adults develop some kind of combo style they use when they are reduced to actually putting pen or pencil to paper. So all that time I spent on learning cursive back in grade school seems pointless now.
I'd much prefer the school make kids print very neatly than worry about cursive, especially if they are going to forget all about it after the 4th grade. It's a fact of the world in this century that a huge majority of the writing our kids will do will be via a keyboard, either computer, text, or touch screen. Having beautiful penmanship will put them in high demand when it comes time for their friends to address wedding invitations or land them that gig painting Renn Faire signage, but it's not going to get them into that prestigious Ivy League school or help them move up the work ladder any more quickly. In fact, it makes more sense to me that the time spent teaching cursive would be better used teaching proper keyboarding technique instead so we don't end up with an entire generation of point-and-poke single finger typers.
It's a matter of focusing on the skills necessary to operate in today's world. How many people today know how to use a slide rule? Once upon a time, well formed cursive served a purpose. What purpose does it serve today that isn't being met by another tool? If cursive was originally used to speed up writing - more words on the page in less time - I would argue that typing on a keyboard is way faster than that.
My issue is that both of my kids have atrocious handwriting, in my opinion. My son's cursive is very well formed, but when he prints, I have a hard time reading his writing. And while I can read my daughter's papers, she seems completely oblivious to the poorly erased mistakes that interfere with a neat, pride-filled presentation. I often worry that they will be marked down for illegible writing, but so far the teachers are proving to have better deciphering skills than I do. Maybe it's that I'm overestimating the skill level I expect at their respective ages, but I just think my writing at that point in my life was much better. I feel I'm constantly nagging for them to write neater, go slower, erase better and "take some pride in your work!"
Perhaps cursive writing is something that should be delegated to an elective in high school the way other art forms are. I would be much happier to have my kids work on printing well than knowing how to write in cursive, never using that skill, and have sloppy handwriting in any form.
And just because a person doesn't know how to write in cursive doesn't mean he or she doesn't know how to write at all. My dad made me learn to drive a car with manual transmission before I could get my driver's license. I haven't driven a stick shift car in ten years. Sure, I know I can if I need to, and that's reassuring whenever I have to rent a moving truck. But if I'd never learned to do it in the first place, I'd still be able to get myself where I needed to go.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Clash Of the Titans Redux
When I heard that they were remaking the 1981 movie Clash of the Titans, I was tickled pink. CotT '81 is maybe my favorite B movie of all time. Not only was it the first movie I can remember seeing sans parents (they let me and my brother go to the theater all by ourselves!), it was such an unapologetically corny, over the top love story. You just gotta love a classic Greek myth with all of its monsters and gods and damsels in distress. For crying out loud, Andromeda was actually chained to the rocks to be sacrificed to the Krakan! You can't satisfy my rescue-scenario fetish any better than that.
So they are remaking CotT, with Sam Worthington in the role of the dashing Perseus. I do like Worthington - my favorite part of Terminator Salvation, actually - but I have some reservations about him in this role. From the stills on IMDB, he's clearly a much swarthier, aggressive Perseus. A hardened warrior who looks used to battle. I do love me some warriors, especially in short skirts (see: Pitt, Brad, Troy and Butler, Gerard, 300). But it's definitely a departure from the original.
Harry Hamlin's Perseus, on the other hand, was not only a lot prettier than Worthington (that hair!), he played Perseus as kind of a reluctant hero. He grows up on an idyllic island and seems content to hang on Seriphos forever, combing the beach for new shells for his fledgling puca necklace business. It's only when the jealous Thetis plucks Perseus off the island and drops him in the middle of the festering drama unfolding in Joppa that Perseus picks up his sword (a magic sword!). And it's only love that is strong enough to motivate Perseus to seek out the Stygian Witches, capture the elusive Pegasus, fight the hideous Medusa, and...well, you've got to see the movie.
Still, even with this change to a more proactive hero, I'm giddy for March 26th to roll around. CotT '10 will, at the very least, provide a massive CGI upgrade from the cheesy claymation special effects of CotT '81. And we get Liam Neeson as Zeus. I know I probably won't have to wait in line opening night, but I'll be there.
Wonder if my brother might be available to go with me. For old times' sake.
So they are remaking CotT, with Sam Worthington in the role of the dashing Perseus. I do like Worthington - my favorite part of Terminator Salvation, actually - but I have some reservations about him in this role. From the stills on IMDB, he's clearly a much swarthier, aggressive Perseus. A hardened warrior who looks used to battle. I do love me some warriors, especially in short skirts (see: Pitt, Brad, Troy and Butler, Gerard, 300). But it's definitely a departure from the original.
Harry Hamlin's Perseus, on the other hand, was not only a lot prettier than Worthington (that hair!), he played Perseus as kind of a reluctant hero. He grows up on an idyllic island and seems content to hang on Seriphos forever, combing the beach for new shells for his fledgling puca necklace business. It's only when the jealous Thetis plucks Perseus off the island and drops him in the middle of the festering drama unfolding in Joppa that Perseus picks up his sword (a magic sword!). And it's only love that is strong enough to motivate Perseus to seek out the Stygian Witches, capture the elusive Pegasus, fight the hideous Medusa, and...well, you've got to see the movie.
Still, even with this change to a more proactive hero, I'm giddy for March 26th to roll around. CotT '10 will, at the very least, provide a massive CGI upgrade from the cheesy claymation special effects of CotT '81. And we get Liam Neeson as Zeus. I know I probably won't have to wait in line opening night, but I'll be there.
Wonder if my brother might be available to go with me. For old times' sake.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Got To Love a Good Kids' Series
I happily had an excuse to go book shopping yesterday. Not that I need a genuine excuse to go book shopping, but it's really nice to pull books off the shelves, decide to purchase them and justify it as Necessary.
I'm trying very hard to turn my fourth grade son into a Reader (yes, with the capital R). Unlike his older sister, who consumes books the way I did when I was her age, he simply doesn't find the pleasure in curling up on the couch with a great book. I keep thinking maybe this is because he just hasn't found the right One yet.
Not that I haven't tried hard to bring home the right morsel to tempt him. Whenever he expresses any interest in a type of book or a specific series, I rush out and snatch up as much of it as I can. As a result, we have the full Captain Underpants collection (through 2007, anyway) and countless episodes from the My Weird School epoch. I had words with the sales staff at both my local Borders and Barnes & Noble when neither store stocked even a single Jake Maddox title. And I've been to the bookstore twice to return duplicate purchases of the Bones books because I can't remember which ones my son has and which he wants.
Unfortunately, however, my son seems to outgrow his interest in a particular series as quickly as he grows out of last year's jeans. Just when I think he may be hooked good and proper, he's got his nose stuck in a computer video game, dust a quarter inch thick on his pile of books.
As of this summer, two series have kept me from despairing that my son will never read anything more complex than poorly drawn superheroes with underwear for a uniform. Yesterday he sent me out with instructions to locate two Weenies titles he needs to complete his collection. He's also informed me that he expects me to take him to the bookstore the second the doors open on October 12 so that he can snatch up the next installment of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid saga. It's the first time ever he's actually been aware of an upcoming release date of a book - something even I had no concept of when I was his age. I'm so very proud.
While I was indulging his love of talking Weenies, I also picked up some books with a bit more heft. In our Illinois school system, a big deal is made every year of the books nominated for a Rebecca Caudill award. It's practically a right of passage when students hit the fourth grade and can begin voting for their favorites off the list of nominees. After completing a Caudill book, students can have their picture taken as they hold up the book, and the school librarian hangs the snapshots all over the library. There's some honor in having your face plastered on the walls as many times as possible. I think my daughter might hold some kind of record.
So in order to encourage my son to read books that have a better chance in opening his worldview, I scoured the list of nominees for 2010 to see which titles might appeal to him. His teacher had informed us she'd be reading three of the books aloud to the class although she didn't specify which ones, so there was a certain amount of gambling I needed to do. I crossed off the ones with girl protagonists. As much as I HATE promoting the concept that boys don't read books about girls, I need to do whatever I can to tempt my son. I begrudgingly admit I have a better chance force feeding him boy stories.
I discovered, happily, that the book I thought most likely to appeal to him - Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life by Wendy Mass - was the very book he'd selected himself for in-class quiet reading time, although he was convinced the title was actually "Keys" because of the picture of keys on the front cover. It wasn't until I pulled the book off the shelf at the store that I confirmed they were one in the same.
I ended up with The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt and All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn. The second book came with the bonus of knowing my daughter had read and absolutely loved one of Hahn's other titles - The Old Willis House - so if my son took a pass, she'd probably want to read it. I should have guessed she's already read it (she has), and my son informed me that AtLBO is one of the three titles his teacher is reading out loud. I don't know if returning the book is worth it or if I could donate it to the school library.
I also picked up something I thought might tempt him because it's simply so off-the-wall. The Name of This Book Is a Secret caught my eye because I recognized the name of the author, Pseudonymous Bosch, from something I've read recently about character names. When I perused the book, it looked like a lot of fun. Plus, it's the first in a series, and I'm all for more of anything that works.
It's funny how I look at books for my kids these days with an eye on whether or not they are part of a series. My daughter is a book series addict. She's been through them all, starting back with Junie B. Jones, working her way through American Girl, Judy Moody, the Clique, and countless others. With the Hunter series, she made the leap over to fantasy, after which she discovered Twilight and it was all over. Because of her still-youngish age, I insist on previewing the teen vampire books she devours like candy, but for the most part, she's becoming a vampire expert. We now run into the problem of her wanting to run right out and get the next title in a series the second after she's read "the end" in the last one. She needs a job to feed her reading habit. I tried to talk her into writing her own kid's point of view book review blog as a way to share her thoughts, but so far, no sale.
In fact, I use her as my own personal book review service. For months, the Mortal Instruments book displays have caught my attention whenever I've wandered into the book store. Yesterday I picked up the first title thinking my daughter would like it. If she does, I'll read them myself. Twenty-four hours after bringing City of Bones into the house, she's a third of the way through it and walks around the house with the thing stuck in front of her face.
I do puzzle over why my daughter - and eldest child - is an avid reader while my son - and youngest - is not. They've both been exposed to my love of reading. We have so many books around our house there isn't a single room save the bathrooms that don't have shelves for books. I read out loud to both of them when they were babies, took them both to Toddler Time at the library, equally said no to both to buying candy and toys at the store but would always give in to a paperback story. They both contain half of my reading genes. But for some reason, only my daughter is like me.
My husband is not a book reader. He reads a great deal every day in the form of newspapers and trade magazines, both on line and hard copy, and he has a thing for biographies of sports figures and successful businessmen. But if he reads two fiction books a year, it's an accomplishment. He chalks this up to his short attention span. Rarely can a book hold his interest for more than a half an hour, so it takes him a very long time to finish one. Since the man can't sit still for more than fifteen minutes in a stretch, I have to agree with his assessment.
Maybe my son is just like my husband. His disinterest in reading gobs of fiction doesn't mean he won't read something or that he's a poor reader, just that he can't maintain interest for that long. Too, there are so many other forms of entertainment out there that offer a lot more bells and whistles. To my son, reading often seems like an inferior alternative, even if I know the truth. Add to it the chore of reading for school and he wants to spend his free time doing anything but reading for pleasure.
Still, I won't give up. I think a love of reading is a wonderful gift. And I truly believe success in school relies a lot on good reading habits which you simply cannot develop unless you read consistently.
Besides, I don't mind those trips to the book store in search of the perfect title that will turn that reading bug lightbulb on over his head.
I'm trying very hard to turn my fourth grade son into a Reader (yes, with the capital R). Unlike his older sister, who consumes books the way I did when I was her age, he simply doesn't find the pleasure in curling up on the couch with a great book. I keep thinking maybe this is because he just hasn't found the right One yet.
Not that I haven't tried hard to bring home the right morsel to tempt him. Whenever he expresses any interest in a type of book or a specific series, I rush out and snatch up as much of it as I can. As a result, we have the full Captain Underpants collection (through 2007, anyway) and countless episodes from the My Weird School epoch. I had words with the sales staff at both my local Borders and Barnes & Noble when neither store stocked even a single Jake Maddox title. And I've been to the bookstore twice to return duplicate purchases of the Bones books because I can't remember which ones my son has and which he wants.
Unfortunately, however, my son seems to outgrow his interest in a particular series as quickly as he grows out of last year's jeans. Just when I think he may be hooked good and proper, he's got his nose stuck in a computer video game, dust a quarter inch thick on his pile of books.
As of this summer, two series have kept me from despairing that my son will never read anything more complex than poorly drawn superheroes with underwear for a uniform. Yesterday he sent me out with instructions to locate two Weenies titles he needs to complete his collection. He's also informed me that he expects me to take him to the bookstore the second the doors open on October 12 so that he can snatch up the next installment of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid saga. It's the first time ever he's actually been aware of an upcoming release date of a book - something even I had no concept of when I was his age. I'm so very proud.
While I was indulging his love of talking Weenies, I also picked up some books with a bit more heft. In our Illinois school system, a big deal is made every year of the books nominated for a Rebecca Caudill award. It's practically a right of passage when students hit the fourth grade and can begin voting for their favorites off the list of nominees. After completing a Caudill book, students can have their picture taken as they hold up the book, and the school librarian hangs the snapshots all over the library. There's some honor in having your face plastered on the walls as many times as possible. I think my daughter might hold some kind of record.
So in order to encourage my son to read books that have a better chance in opening his worldview, I scoured the list of nominees for 2010 to see which titles might appeal to him. His teacher had informed us she'd be reading three of the books aloud to the class although she didn't specify which ones, so there was a certain amount of gambling I needed to do. I crossed off the ones with girl protagonists. As much as I HATE promoting the concept that boys don't read books about girls, I need to do whatever I can to tempt my son. I begrudgingly admit I have a better chance force feeding him boy stories.
I discovered, happily, that the book I thought most likely to appeal to him - Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life by Wendy Mass - was the very book he'd selected himself for in-class quiet reading time, although he was convinced the title was actually "Keys" because of the picture of keys on the front cover. It wasn't until I pulled the book off the shelf at the store that I confirmed they were one in the same.
I ended up with The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt and All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn. The second book came with the bonus of knowing my daughter had read and absolutely loved one of Hahn's other titles - The Old Willis House - so if my son took a pass, she'd probably want to read it. I should have guessed she's already read it (she has), and my son informed me that AtLBO is one of the three titles his teacher is reading out loud. I don't know if returning the book is worth it or if I could donate it to the school library.
I also picked up something I thought might tempt him because it's simply so off-the-wall. The Name of This Book Is a Secret caught my eye because I recognized the name of the author, Pseudonymous Bosch, from something I've read recently about character names. When I perused the book, it looked like a lot of fun. Plus, it's the first in a series, and I'm all for more of anything that works.
It's funny how I look at books for my kids these days with an eye on whether or not they are part of a series. My daughter is a book series addict. She's been through them all, starting back with Junie B. Jones, working her way through American Girl, Judy Moody, the Clique, and countless others. With the Hunter series, she made the leap over to fantasy, after which she discovered Twilight and it was all over. Because of her still-youngish age, I insist on previewing the teen vampire books she devours like candy, but for the most part, she's becoming a vampire expert. We now run into the problem of her wanting to run right out and get the next title in a series the second after she's read "the end" in the last one. She needs a job to feed her reading habit. I tried to talk her into writing her own kid's point of view book review blog as a way to share her thoughts, but so far, no sale.
In fact, I use her as my own personal book review service. For months, the Mortal Instruments book displays have caught my attention whenever I've wandered into the book store. Yesterday I picked up the first title thinking my daughter would like it. If she does, I'll read them myself. Twenty-four hours after bringing City of Bones into the house, she's a third of the way through it and walks around the house with the thing stuck in front of her face.
I do puzzle over why my daughter - and eldest child - is an avid reader while my son - and youngest - is not. They've both been exposed to my love of reading. We have so many books around our house there isn't a single room save the bathrooms that don't have shelves for books. I read out loud to both of them when they were babies, took them both to Toddler Time at the library, equally said no to both to buying candy and toys at the store but would always give in to a paperback story. They both contain half of my reading genes. But for some reason, only my daughter is like me.
My husband is not a book reader. He reads a great deal every day in the form of newspapers and trade magazines, both on line and hard copy, and he has a thing for biographies of sports figures and successful businessmen. But if he reads two fiction books a year, it's an accomplishment. He chalks this up to his short attention span. Rarely can a book hold his interest for more than a half an hour, so it takes him a very long time to finish one. Since the man can't sit still for more than fifteen minutes in a stretch, I have to agree with his assessment.
Maybe my son is just like my husband. His disinterest in reading gobs of fiction doesn't mean he won't read something or that he's a poor reader, just that he can't maintain interest for that long. Too, there are so many other forms of entertainment out there that offer a lot more bells and whistles. To my son, reading often seems like an inferior alternative, even if I know the truth. Add to it the chore of reading for school and he wants to spend his free time doing anything but reading for pleasure.
Still, I won't give up. I think a love of reading is a wonderful gift. And I truly believe success in school relies a lot on good reading habits which you simply cannot develop unless you read consistently.
Besides, I don't mind those trips to the book store in search of the perfect title that will turn that reading bug lightbulb on over his head.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Forks Exposed
This caught my attention this morning. Apparently, Forks, Washington, has earned itself a direct-to-DVD documentary for the extraordinary achievement of being the place where Stephenie Meyer set the Twilight series.
As I remarked in the EW comments section, I find this unbelievably ridiculous for many reasons.
First, it is such a blatant effort to make even more money off the Twilight phenomenon that the distributors would be less obvious if they walked up and down the aisles of movie theaters during showings of Twilight and New Moon and hawked crap like giant foam fangs, sparkly glitter vampire body paint and Edward Cullen wigs. Have they no shame? Nevermind, I already know the answer to that.
The other reason I find this so silly is that Forks offered absolutely nothing more than being located in the rainiest region of the U.S. on record to qualify it for the Twilight epicenter. Stephenie Meyer has admitted she did some kind of Google search for "rainy places" and Bam! Forks is the new Mecca for vampire groupies. She didn't manage to actually visit Forks until after she'd finished the first book and it was off being published. Things could have turned out to be a disaster.
What if Forks had been like one of the gazillion Midwestern towns dotting the state backroads, nothing more than a speed limit reduction sign and a closed-on-Sunday gas station indicating there is even a town there? Or Forks could have consisted of a one-block downtown with a hole-in-the-wall bar, an ancient appliance/furniture store and a tiny florist shop and craft emporium combo run by a lady named Mabel, the main bulk of the area actually a row of strip malls and big box retailers lining Highway 101. Realistic but not exactly picturesque. Somehow reading about how Edward and Bella headed to TGI Friday's after a quick stop at Best Buy to check out their subwoofers for Edward's Audi just doesn't create the feeling of a soul-mate love of all time in the making.
I'll give Meyer the credit of some research to make sure Forks did have a large enough population (3,275 in 2008) to have a high school or a hospital or even warrant a McDonald's. Additionally, she studied pictures of the area and was satisfied that the deep green forests surrounding Forks would meet her brooding vampire's needs.
Still, being dark and gloomy isn't usually enough to earn a real-life town a starring role in what has become arguably one of the most successful YA series ever much less a DVD of its very own.
Maybe I'm just feeling bitter because, as exemplifies Meyer's entire writing career, once again she lucked out in a major way. She has a dream, writes it down, it becomes a international best seller and a blockbuster movie franchise. She describes a handsome vampire and launches the career of the next teen heartthrob. She throws a dart at a map of the Olympic Peninsula and a random town becomes the hottest place to spend your summer vacation. With all due respect to Meyer's talent, I want to know where she stashes the bottle with the genie in it.
Oddly, my last vacation was spent in pursuit of confirming a setting for one of my own projects. With the particular premise of my story, I was limited to a very specific region of the country, yet I wanted my world to be contained in a particular type of town. I did loads of research, spent hours staring at Google Earth images, and hunted down ancient town records that could confirm that the history I needed to build upon was strong enough to support my entire premise before I chose a couple of towns I thought would work. I had every intention of using fictional names, but still I'm the type of writer who needs a real-world example to crib from.
So I packed up the hubby and we took a trip to this particular area. I bought the most detailed map I could find, we rented a car and headed into the countryside. Thankfully my better half loves nothing more than to explore, to drive aimlessly with absolutely no destination in mind, so he had no problem with our lack of vacation structure. He generously offered to drive so I could gawk at the countryside while I led him through all of my possible towns, trying to match my imaginings and story needs to the reality of what we found.
Some places were far too large and developed. Since I don't want my characters eating at Ruby Tuesdays or shopping at Aero Postale unless they hop on the highway for a ways, I crossed those towns off the list.
Other places weren't more than a single stop light that left me wondering how long the kids had to sit on the bus in the morning to get to the nearest high school. I want small and intimate, but remote and a pain-in-the-ass to run to the store for a gallon of milk is just a little too underdeveloped.
Some places didn't have the geographic features I needed - some woods with a winding road or two cutting between the trees, a middle-class neighborhood, a proximity to the ocean that allowed my characters to use it frequently. Nothing pulls me out of a story quicker than when a writer unfamiliar with a real-world location has his/her character perform some action that is logistically impossible given the region. Example: Bueller, Ferris, driving to the far northern suburbs from downtown Chicago in less than an hour during rush hour traffic. But I digress.
One town came fairly close to meeting most of my setting requirements, and it might have to do for my stand in. But I've come to see that I need to let go of reality completely. My story town might just have to be entirely fictional. Unlike Meyer, I didn't luck out and find my Forks.
Granted, I've never been to Forks. It may be the case that only tiny portions of it fit Meyer's needs and she simply ignored any parts of it that messed up her story. Too, while Forks created a very specific atmosphere in the Twilight series, it was never described in detail. Readers must fill in a lot of blanks with their own guesswork, and a visit to the real town might create a huge disconnect.
Perhaps this whole DVD thing isn't such a great idea after all. Kind of like pulling the curtain away from the man behind Oz. Better Forks remain that perfect rainy place where Edward and Bella frolic in the woods than face the fact that some businesses there use those tacky portable change-a-letter signs on a regular basis. Talk about killing the mystique.
As I remarked in the EW comments section, I find this unbelievably ridiculous for many reasons.
First, it is such a blatant effort to make even more money off the Twilight phenomenon that the distributors would be less obvious if they walked up and down the aisles of movie theaters during showings of Twilight and New Moon and hawked crap like giant foam fangs, sparkly glitter vampire body paint and Edward Cullen wigs. Have they no shame? Nevermind, I already know the answer to that.
The other reason I find this so silly is that Forks offered absolutely nothing more than being located in the rainiest region of the U.S. on record to qualify it for the Twilight epicenter. Stephenie Meyer has admitted she did some kind of Google search for "rainy places" and Bam! Forks is the new Mecca for vampire groupies. She didn't manage to actually visit Forks until after she'd finished the first book and it was off being published. Things could have turned out to be a disaster.
What if Forks had been like one of the gazillion Midwestern towns dotting the state backroads, nothing more than a speed limit reduction sign and a closed-on-Sunday gas station indicating there is even a town there? Or Forks could have consisted of a one-block downtown with a hole-in-the-wall bar, an ancient appliance/furniture store and a tiny florist shop and craft emporium combo run by a lady named Mabel, the main bulk of the area actually a row of strip malls and big box retailers lining Highway 101. Realistic but not exactly picturesque. Somehow reading about how Edward and Bella headed to TGI Friday's after a quick stop at Best Buy to check out their subwoofers for Edward's Audi just doesn't create the feeling of a soul-mate love of all time in the making.
I'll give Meyer the credit of some research to make sure Forks did have a large enough population (3,275 in 2008) to have a high school or a hospital or even warrant a McDonald's. Additionally, she studied pictures of the area and was satisfied that the deep green forests surrounding Forks would meet her brooding vampire's needs.
Still, being dark and gloomy isn't usually enough to earn a real-life town a starring role in what has become arguably one of the most successful YA series ever much less a DVD of its very own.
Maybe I'm just feeling bitter because, as exemplifies Meyer's entire writing career, once again she lucked out in a major way. She has a dream, writes it down, it becomes a international best seller and a blockbuster movie franchise. She describes a handsome vampire and launches the career of the next teen heartthrob. She throws a dart at a map of the Olympic Peninsula and a random town becomes the hottest place to spend your summer vacation. With all due respect to Meyer's talent, I want to know where she stashes the bottle with the genie in it.
Oddly, my last vacation was spent in pursuit of confirming a setting for one of my own projects. With the particular premise of my story, I was limited to a very specific region of the country, yet I wanted my world to be contained in a particular type of town. I did loads of research, spent hours staring at Google Earth images, and hunted down ancient town records that could confirm that the history I needed to build upon was strong enough to support my entire premise before I chose a couple of towns I thought would work. I had every intention of using fictional names, but still I'm the type of writer who needs a real-world example to crib from.
So I packed up the hubby and we took a trip to this particular area. I bought the most detailed map I could find, we rented a car and headed into the countryside. Thankfully my better half loves nothing more than to explore, to drive aimlessly with absolutely no destination in mind, so he had no problem with our lack of vacation structure. He generously offered to drive so I could gawk at the countryside while I led him through all of my possible towns, trying to match my imaginings and story needs to the reality of what we found.
Some places were far too large and developed. Since I don't want my characters eating at Ruby Tuesdays or shopping at Aero Postale unless they hop on the highway for a ways, I crossed those towns off the list.
Other places weren't more than a single stop light that left me wondering how long the kids had to sit on the bus in the morning to get to the nearest high school. I want small and intimate, but remote and a pain-in-the-ass to run to the store for a gallon of milk is just a little too underdeveloped.
Some places didn't have the geographic features I needed - some woods with a winding road or two cutting between the trees, a middle-class neighborhood, a proximity to the ocean that allowed my characters to use it frequently. Nothing pulls me out of a story quicker than when a writer unfamiliar with a real-world location has his/her character perform some action that is logistically impossible given the region. Example: Bueller, Ferris, driving to the far northern suburbs from downtown Chicago in less than an hour during rush hour traffic. But I digress.
One town came fairly close to meeting most of my setting requirements, and it might have to do for my stand in. But I've come to see that I need to let go of reality completely. My story town might just have to be entirely fictional. Unlike Meyer, I didn't luck out and find my Forks.
Granted, I've never been to Forks. It may be the case that only tiny portions of it fit Meyer's needs and she simply ignored any parts of it that messed up her story. Too, while Forks created a very specific atmosphere in the Twilight series, it was never described in detail. Readers must fill in a lot of blanks with their own guesswork, and a visit to the real town might create a huge disconnect.
Perhaps this whole DVD thing isn't such a great idea after all. Kind of like pulling the curtain away from the man behind Oz. Better Forks remain that perfect rainy place where Edward and Bella frolic in the woods than face the fact that some businesses there use those tacky portable change-a-letter signs on a regular basis. Talk about killing the mystique.
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