W is for Wishy-Washy Wow (Wroblewski)

What I read: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

Basically, it is Hamlet.

With dogs.

I'm not giving anything away (although I may later) since a blurb on the dust jacket refers to the book as an "American Hamlet." In many ways, it makes a good deal more sense than Hamlet since a troubled fourteen-years-old boy who can't make up his mind is a good deal more understandable than a sulky thirty-three-years-old who can't make up his mind.

And Wroblewski provides magnificent insights into the original characters.

My two problems with the book are that it took forever to hook me, and the book changed from a story that echoed Hamlet to a story that retold Hamlet.

First, the beginning of the book, for me, was very, very slow. It is extremely readable and not dull. But I never would have kept reading if it wasn't my "W" book, and a lady from my bookclub hadn't recommended it.

I think this is a matter of personal taste, not writing. I like to start stories in the middle--bang! (This can't be blamed on the Sesame Street generation complex, by the way. I grew up without television. Let's face it: preference is just preference.)

Some people prefer books that introduce them to a person's life and then tell them every single itty-bitty detail about that life: a lot of non-plot romance books fall into this category. I detest them.

And some people prefer books that slowly unwind, inviting them into a world which they can inhabit breathe by breathe, moment by moment. I will confess that Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is one of the few books of this type that I have read and loved. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle falls into this category. I didn't love it, but it is an excellent example of this type of writing.

In any case, as I mentioned before, the reading is painless, so I kept going (slowly). And about 2/3rds of the way through, the plot picked up tremendously, and I finished the book in about two sittings.

So my first problem with the book isn't really a complaint.

The second is. (Warning: spoilers ahead.)

It is fairly easy to parse out whom the humans and dogs in the novel correspond to in Hamlet, but the book doesn't read (at first) like an allegory or direct analogy. That is, Almondine doesn't HAVE to represent Ophelia. She can just remind us of Ophelia. Forte doesn't have to be Fortinbras (although his purpose, otherwise, is unclear); he just needs to bring Fortinbras to mind.

Unfortunately, by the time the book hits the 1/2-way mark, it has begun to follow the play pretty closely. It is no longer a matter of the story reminding us of Hamlet. It IS Hamlet, and everything pays off as it does in the play.

This isn't done unintelligently; in fact, Claude's manipulation of Glen really brings home the oily smoothness of Claudius' manipulation of Laertes. But it does make the book feel a tad unorganic. Up to the 1/2-way mark, the book feels entirely organic. What happens happens as a result of a people coming together at a certain point in time. But the end, while not descending into the macabre or the totally contrived, feels like it might just. Soon.

Of course, Hamlet sort of feels this way too (witness audience laughter provoked by the end of Kenneth Branagh's otherwise fascinating Hamlet). Shakespeare didn't have to apologize because he wasn't trying to create American realism. Wrobelewski is. I won't say the effort fails because I don't think it does.

But. Still.

Granted, I think death is a cop-out (again, it wasn't for Shakespeare), so I have a problem with a book that pulls you along, bringing together multiple threads and teasing you with occasional variations . . . and then gives you what you knew happened the first time anyway. Eh? So, it's a little different (I have my own opinion about Essay's choice at the end), but 562 pages! I read 562 pages for a little different?

However, it says a great deal for Wroblewski's ability that I don't considered the time spent a complete loss.

In fact, for those of you of the third reader type, I think you would really enjoy this book!

Introducing . . . The Mike-Kate Video Club!

My friend Mike and I are starting a video club (Mike's idea). The Mike-Kate Video Club operates like a book club. Participants will discuss 10 videos (one per week) at a time. The videos will be selected by Mike and Kate and will follow a theme. The first set will run over the summer and will tackle the pilot episodes of science-fiction and fantasy shows.

Here is the first post AND a link to the blog (it's new!):

The first list includes mostly science-fiction and fantasy shows. There is one exception—Bones—which, although not a science-fiction show, fits thematically with X-Files. The order of the episodes does follow a thematic arrangement (Whedon's shows together; space opera shows together; British shows together), but the arrangement is somewhat loose.

1. Buffy, the Vampire Slayer: "Welcome to the Hellmouth," June 4th
2. Firefly: "Serenity" (the REAL pilot, not the aired pilot), June 11th
3. X-Files: "Pilot," June 18th
4. Bones: "Pilot," June 25th
5. Roswell: "Pilot," July 2nd
6. Supernatural: "Pilot," July 9th
7. Star Trek: Next Generation: "Encounter at Farpoint," July 16th
8. Sarah Jane Adventures: 0-2, July 23rd
9. Red Dwarf: "The End," July 30th
10. New Doctor Who: "Rose," August 6th

Feel free to watch ahead, but please save comments about a pilot for that pilot's "due date." The "due date" indicates when a post will appear for that video. Spoilers are accepted (i.e., you can mention future episodes of Buffy in the Buffy commentary). Bad language and asinine comments ("You're stupid if you don't agree with me") are not; such comments will be removed.

The last instruction is from me. I rarely read comments on other people's blogs because I find the adolescent bad language and idiocy so annoying. Call it censorship if you want, but Mike and I are the moderators, and if we don't like it, it goes (which doesn't mean you can't disagree with us, just you have to disagree intelligently).

http://mikekatevideoclub.blogspot.com/

Addendum: #8 has been changed. As Mike pointed out, Babylon 5 has a movie and then catapults you into the show (like Battlestar Galactica). So we changed #8 to Sarah Jane Adventures, Episodes 0-2.

This should be the only change!

Finally, House, Season 5

Since I don't watch regular television anymore, I'm a year behind everyone else on shows. I don't actually mind this because it means I can watch entire seasons at once as single entities.

In some cases, this doesn't matter much, but with House, it actually does. David Shore always has an end game and, starting with Season 5, I've begun to think he has a long-term end game; House is headed somewhere definite.

But on to my review! There are spoilers (for those of you who, like me, watch things a year after they come out the first time).

Based on occasional comments from various people, which I may have misinterpreted, I assumed House was meaner in Season 5 than in other seasons. Quite frankly, I was prepared to have this be my last season. I don't mind witty snideness. I do draw the line at cruelty.

However, I didn't find House any worse than in any other season. This may be because I was House-less for about a year. Still, I thought he seemed more human--more concerned with the reasons behind his decisions--than in prior seasons. He makes more ethical-based decisions than in prior seasons, and he seems more alarmed by the possibility of long-term fall-out. In other words, I did not think he was just messing with Foreman and 13 (for example). I think he made a valid decision there. Luckily, Foreman and 13 were wise enough to find a non-confrontational solution.

Speaking of Foreman and 13, I believe in them as a couple far more than I believe in Cameron and Chase. Cameron and Chase's romance seems the result, mostly, of Chase's romanticism. What on earth would they have in common? She's totally high-maintenance; Chase is super-surgeon surfer guy. I like them both, but I don't believe in their long-term chances.

On the other hand, I do believe in Foreman and 13. They both seem more level-headed (yes, I think that despite 13's crazy behavior), and 13 has a objective caustic side that Cameron doesn't. This enables 13 to meet Mr. Logic half-way. I think this is, ya know, kind of important to a relationship. I just don't see a mental half-way mark with Cameron and Chase.

Back to House: I thought the season finale was much weaker than season finales of the past, but I liked where it left us. And the use of Anne Dudek and Karl Penn was inspired.

Segue: This is a case where I am SUPER glad I'm the kind of person who finds out the endings of things beforehand. If I hadn't known Karl Penn left to join Obama's campaign, thus putting paid to Kutner's life, I would have been unbelievably upset when I saw it happen. As it was, it was still very hard for me to watch that particular episode.

Having said that, 99% of the time, I think death is a cop-out. However, I do think Karl Penn's leaving was used effectively. I'm not sure what else the writers could have used to send House into his downward spiral: Kutner's suicide fit the bill. It left House with another death he "might" have prevented but one with no explanation (with Amber, House had the "story"), preparing the way for what I consider the true season finale: "House Divided" (and isn't the use of Anne Dudek awesome? It's like with Buffy: nobody ever really dies in David Shore-land).

Overall, the writing remains high throughout the season although I don't think Season 5 has as many classics as previous seasons. I did enjoy the "Death Cat," the private investigator (glad to know he shows up in Season 6) and, of course, "Birthmarks" (the episode with House and Wilson going to House's dad's funeral).

I did think Wilson bounced back a bit quickly from Amber's loss, but I also think the writers did a good job deepening Wilson and House's relationship. Of course, Wilson loves the craziness of House! He wouldn't have been with Amber otherwise. I was glad Wilson finally admitted that he gets as much out of the relationship as House.

On the downside, the writers are beginning to repeat themselves medically. They are also repeating themselves thematically, but I consider that a good thing and part of the David Shore program (Season 5 explores the issue of split personalities, for example). But many of the medical problems have come up before, only with different patients in different contexts. I don't really hold this against the writers. There are only so many muscles and bones in the human body. Granted, there are probably a few more "motives" for medical mysteries than for murder mysteries (which include just profit, rage/jealousy, gain/envy, revenge, and craziness). Nevertheless, there's a limited number of wacky illnesses out there, and House has run through most of the big ones.

On the upside, and returning to my first major point, I consider this to be one of the most sentimental seasons ever. And in a very grown-up way. Other than split personalities, the season focuses thematically on babies and marriage. Both receive refreshingly optimistic treatment. Taub and his wife stay together; Cuddy gets her baby and bonds with it; Wilson and House remain friends in their platonic marriage kind of way; both wife and girlfriend return to their split personality husband and boyfriend; parents are reunited with their estranged, guilt-ridden daughter. It is all done intelligently (the characters behave in accordance with their characterizations) yet also very sentimentally.

Frankly, I'm all for sentiment! I consider tragic endings for the sake of angst and supposed "realism" (which is usually just literary "realism," not actual get-a-job-and-pay-the-bills realism) unbelievably boring and pointless.

So kudos!! I'm going to keep watching. (In another year.)

V is for deja VU (Van Dine)

What I read: The Scarab Murder Case by S. S. Van Dine

I honestly considered Vonnegut for "V," but it was grading time, and I couldn't bring myself to choose something so depressing (on the one hand) or thought-provoking (on the other).

Reading Van Dine proved rather interesting, mostly because Van Dine's hero, Vance, is remarkably--and I mean, remarkably--like Peter Wimsey (in the early Wimsey novels). Both are of the upper class (Peter Wimsey is of the British aristocracy; Vance is a New York socialite). Both have a deliberately nonchalant way of speaking and say things like, "We're dealing' with a most unusual situation. And somebody translated [the victim] from this world in to the hereafter in a very distressin' fashion." Both have the ability to become serious, when necessary. Both have a friend who plays "straight man" to their overblown personalities (Charles Parker, a police inspector, and Markham, a D.A.). Both have "deceptive upper body strength" (as Colby says to Charlie in Numbers). Both wear a monocle!

In fact, the similarities are so striking that I compared dates. Sayer's first Wimsey novel appeared in 1923; Van Dine's first Vance novel in 1926.

If one were to argue origins, I would have to come down on the side of Sayers. Wimsey is not only more authentic to the Wodehouse/Hugh Laurie/Lord Percy (Tim McInnerny) tradition of over-educated, amusing fops, Wimsey himself is both funnier and more complex than Vance. (Vance, however, made Van Dine a lot more money during his lifetime than Wimsey made Sayers. On the other hand, the Wimsey novels have lasted in a way that the Vance novels haven't. Which is the preferable career?)

I actually think it is possible that both Sayers and Van Dine brought their characters to life at the same time without ever reading each other's works. It is even likely that they were both inspired by a third source. It's kind of like when every movie studio in Hollywood suddenly decides to do a movie about bugs. Or aliens. It's in the air!

Why amusing fops who investigate crimes would be in the air in the 1920s is something I can't explain off hand. It was the season of the flapper: a sort of jump-start era to the later rock-n-roll era of Elvis and the Beatles. Both horror and murder mysteries were big news. Hitchcock was on his way to making a killing (ha ha ha) as the premier mystery/suspense director in Hollywood.

But Hitchcock relied on Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant for his heroes: the all-American boy and the all-sexy Britisher. Grant may have been conflicted sexually, but he certainly didn't come off that way.

The only other explanation is that the amusing, witty, aristocratic detective was an attempt to meld Holmes (wholly cerebral) with Bertie Wooster (wholly extroverted and quirky). Still, the character type does have a sui generis vibe about it. Now you see him. Here he is.

To return to The Scarab Murder Case, it is a bit slow, being more focused on "railway tables" (so to speak) than on human motives: that is, the mystery is all about whowentwherewhen than relationships. The subject matter is interesting: ancient Egyptian history. The solution is fairly unimpressive. (Agatha Christie did this particular mystery problem better.)

On to "W"!

Why Other English Teachers Sometimes Annoy Me

Like with the police, computer programmers, and scientists, people make assumptions about English teachers. As I remark on my introduction page, in some ways, I am proof of these assumptions: I'm female; I own two cats, I like to read. But in some fairly fundamental ways, I am nothing like these assumptions.

And I get thoroughly annoyed when other English/Humanities instructors not only live up to these assumptions but support them. It's even worse when they are proud of them!

For all you English teachers who are sick of the following assumptions (stereotypes), this post is for you!

Assumption #1: English teachers are unorganized, but that's okay because they're being spontaneous.

I worked for 10 years as a secretary before I went back to college and became an English instructor. The administrative side to teaching is annoying but not terribly difficult. Possibly, my experience makes it easier for me than it does for other English-types.

But there's really no excuse for handing essays back late, not following the syllabus, showing up late to class, using the class to discuss one's personal life/ excuse one's lack of preparation, or spending the class "getting to know each other." People who want to "get to know each other" attend conferences on Workplace Brainwashing (eh hem, sorry, Workplace Communication). English class is about learning to communicate, not about becoming pals with the teacher.

Face-it: "spontaneous" is just code for "lazy."

Assumption #2: English teachers like to pontificate about LIFE and LITERATURE.

This is sort of true. I'm guilty of it. But I do draw the line. For example . . .

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I have an hour between two of my classes. I spend that hour in the math department. It's great! The other adjuncts there are funny and practical, and you can talk and get work done at the same time.

Just this past Friday, I ran downstairs to the English Department to put student essays in my box. Five instructors were sitting in the English Department listening seriously while one guy pontificated about . . .

I don't know. I hightailed it out of there as quickly as possible. I felt the way you do when you almost get hit by a bus. "Whew! That was close."

Back upstairs, we had a hilarious conversation about grading methods and how students behave the last week of the semester. I don't mind a good conversation about LIFE and LITERATURE, but I tend to have those conversations with people who are way more entertaining that pontificating intellectuals.

Assumption #3: English teachers are liberal.

Not only do other English instructors assume this about me, my students assume it as well.

I do not discuss either my political persuasion (conservative libertarian) or my religion (LDS) in my composition classes. I occasionally mention these biographical tidbits in my more history-based classes. In NONE of my classes, do I use my position to soapbox about politics or religion.

(I will use the classroom to soapbox about the purpose of writing: see below).

Consequently, my students have zero data with which to assess my politics or religious beliefs. Nevertheless, most of them (who care) will assume that I'm liberal and non-religious (the latter is more understandable than the former). Every now and again, while discussing research projects, I'll say something like, "Well, you could try Forbes magazine for the kind of argument you are making. My dad really likes Forbes, and he says this about taxes . . ."

The student will do a double-take. One student told me, "I didn't think you would ever say something like that."

Partly, the students make this assumption based on THAT image of English teachers that exists in our culture. But partly, I think, they make the assumption based on the number of soapboxing, liberal English teachers they have had.

This annoys me. When I teach argument/persuasion, I teach the students to make strong arguments whatever their perspectives, NOT to make arguments based on the "right way of thinking."

I have, in fact, reached the point where I perceive both my conservatism and my religion as teaching strengths. I can make the liberal arguments when it comes to health care or taxation or abortion or the environment: I hear them all the time. But I can also supply rebuttals to those arguments, help the more conservative students strengthen their arguments (yes, I do challenge the conservative students with rebuttals as well), and take the religious arguments seriously.

Sadly enough, I have witnessed English teachers practically have nervous breakdowns because some student made a conservative or *gasp* religious argument in a paper. "How do I grade it?" "He used the Bible as a defense!" (As a rational tutor pointed out on Smarthinking, the Bible may not be an appropriate defense in certain venues, but it may be an appropriate defense in other venues. It depends on the audience and context. It isn't automatically wrong to use it.)

Not to beat my own drum, but no wonder students trust popular culture gurus more than Humanities professors. If the Humanities professors can't think outside the box . . .

Assumption #4: Writing is all about sounding poetical and profound.

I spend the beginning half of every semester trying to get my students to understand that I DON'T want a bunch of pseudo-profundities in passive voice that never actually tell me anything:

The explanation was by the scientists made for the clarification of how alkalis and acids intermingle to cause a reaction due to carbon dioxide.

Compare that ridiculous sentence to this:

When you mix an alkali and acid, such as baking soda and orange juice, the mixture creates carbon dioxide and bubbles.

No one could possibly think that the first sentence tells anyone anything. But I think my students honestly believe that it sounds better. And they think this because too many silly English teachers told them to not use "I" and to not state problems directly and to avoid being too obvious and to be sure to sound analytical or something.

This is what I want from all my students: an essay that clearly states what it will prove, presents well-organized and appropriate evidence, and ends with a summary of what the essay just proved. That, to me, is not only an "A" paper, it is the way I was required to write in every single job I had as a secretary (law, medicine, escrow, sales, counseling, programming).

As I tell them over and over and over, "Writing is about communication. If it doesn't communicate, it isn't doing its job. It doesn't matter how good it sounds."

There are times when I feel the odd-woman out in my English departments. Every now and again, I meet an English instructor who thinks as I do, and we commiserate.

But most of the time . . .

Where's the math department?