Every summer, I try and read as many of the Young Hoosier Book Award Nominees as I can. There are always 20 of them, and they are usually entertaining, sometimes thought-provoking books. I read them to try and stay at least somewhat current with what my students are reading.
This year, THE HUNGER GAMES is on the list. Published in 2008, I'd never heard of it until I saw it on the list. I didn't get to it over the summer. I might not have gotten to it at all - shame on me! - if my teacher's assistant (who's a freshman) hadn't raved about it and told me I HAD to read it. She was right.
THE HUNGER GAMES is the first in a sci-fi/fantasy trilogy that is so well-written, and so feasible that I didn't want to put any of them down once I'd started them. The concept behind them is so original, the characters so well drawn, the suspense palpable enough to turn the pages itself, that I seriously cannot recommend these books highly enough.
The gist of the story is this: At some point in the not-so-distant future, North America is ravaged by storms, droughts, and fires, and the oceans steal much of our coastal regions. Wars erupt in an effort to survive, and out of the wars comes Panem, a country of thirteen districts ruled by the Capitol. For a while, there is peace, until the Dark Days come and the districts rebel against the Capital. District 13 is destroyed in the rebellion, which the Capitol eventually squashes, and the remaining twelve districts exist at the mercy of the Capitol.
As a reminder to the districts that they must never try and rebel again, the Capitol institutes the annual Hunger Games. For these games, each district must offer up one girl and one boy, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, as tributes. The 24 tributes are taken to an arena chosen by the Capitol - it could be a desert, or a glacier, or a mountain range, or anything else imaginable - and there, they fight to the death. The one tribute who survives is the winner.
Suzanne Collins created not only action-packed, suspenseful stories, she created psychological studies of us as humans. What would you do to survive? What would you do to keep those you love alive? And how do you live with yourself when it's all over?
I've told my classes about the books, but I decided that wasn't enough. I'm reading THE HUNGER GAMES to them. Some of them can't wait on me to finish. They're clamoring to the library for copies of their own. Our librarian is stopping at Barnes & Noble this weekend to buy more copies.
Yes, those books are really that good. Read them.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
What happens when we live in fear?
I've had a few discussions in the last couple weeks with my eighth graders about Muslims. The first one came about because someone brought up the proposed mosque near Ground Zero. There was a variety of opinions, all over the spectrum. The scary ones were the ones who said we should let them build the mosque and then blow it up, or we should "round up" all of the Muslims and "send them back where they came from." I tried my best to counter those views, and I was heartened when other students seconded my opinion, but I knew I didn't (really) change any of their minds.
The topic came up again on Friday because we were getting ready to read a piece of a memoir written by a woman who was second-generation Japanese and who was sent with her family to one the internment camps we had in our country during World War II. I spent quite a bit of time describing those camps to the kids, many of whom hadn't known they'd ever existed. I drew the lines connecting our internment camps and Hitler's concentration camps, focusing on the fact that the people we put into them were rounded up solely because of their ethnicity.
For the most part, the kids were taken aback to learn about these camps. For the most part, they thought it was horrible that Japanese Americans were robbed of their civil liberties simply because they were Japanese. I took advantage of those feelings to bring up the conversation we'd had before about the Muslims, to remind them about those who'd said we should do to the Muslims what we'd done to the Japanese, what Hitler had done to the Jews. I was hoping I'd see light bulbs go on and that they'd realize this wasn't a road our country should go down again - that we should never cast a net wide enough to catch an entire group of people just because they share a nationality or a religious conviction.
The ones who had earlier said we should round up the Muslims and send them back, that we should, in essence, do away with them all, had not changed their minds one bit. And now, I think I know (at least partially) why. They're scared.
I tried to counter their arguments. I tried to explain what a scary place this country would be if we started condemning groups as they want to condemn all Muslims. Then, one student said, "I think everyone's still so sensitive about 9/11, Mrs. Honeycutt." And I think she's right.
I think we all remember how unbelievably catastrophic that day was, and all of the days that came after, as people tried to make sense of it, tried to recover from it, tried to figure out how to go on. We mourned deeply. And now, nine years later, we've moved on in a lot of ways. But we're still scared.
We're scared it could happen again. We're scared we're going to continue to lose troops overseas. We scared there's no way to really, truly protect ourselves. And what happens when we get scared? We look for the monster under the bed. If we can find the monster, we can chase it out of the house, we can scare it away, we can kill it. We can be safe again.
I think that's where this hatred, this mistrust of all Muslims is coming from in my kids. They need a monster to point at, to chase from the house. And I'm betting that their parents, or other adults they admire and respect, are pointing first. And that scares me.
When we start making characterizations and decisions based on fear, we make mistakes. Creating scapegoats solves nothing, accomplishes nothing. I thought we learned that lesson when Hitler built his concentration camps. But I have students who want to bomb mosques, and I don't know how to change their minds.
The topic came up again on Friday because we were getting ready to read a piece of a memoir written by a woman who was second-generation Japanese and who was sent with her family to one the internment camps we had in our country during World War II. I spent quite a bit of time describing those camps to the kids, many of whom hadn't known they'd ever existed. I drew the lines connecting our internment camps and Hitler's concentration camps, focusing on the fact that the people we put into them were rounded up solely because of their ethnicity.
For the most part, the kids were taken aback to learn about these camps. For the most part, they thought it was horrible that Japanese Americans were robbed of their civil liberties simply because they were Japanese. I took advantage of those feelings to bring up the conversation we'd had before about the Muslims, to remind them about those who'd said we should do to the Muslims what we'd done to the Japanese, what Hitler had done to the Jews. I was hoping I'd see light bulbs go on and that they'd realize this wasn't a road our country should go down again - that we should never cast a net wide enough to catch an entire group of people just because they share a nationality or a religious conviction.
The ones who had earlier said we should round up the Muslims and send them back, that we should, in essence, do away with them all, had not changed their minds one bit. And now, I think I know (at least partially) why. They're scared.
I tried to counter their arguments. I tried to explain what a scary place this country would be if we started condemning groups as they want to condemn all Muslims. Then, one student said, "I think everyone's still so sensitive about 9/11, Mrs. Honeycutt." And I think she's right.
I think we all remember how unbelievably catastrophic that day was, and all of the days that came after, as people tried to make sense of it, tried to recover from it, tried to figure out how to go on. We mourned deeply. And now, nine years later, we've moved on in a lot of ways. But we're still scared.
We're scared it could happen again. We're scared we're going to continue to lose troops overseas. We scared there's no way to really, truly protect ourselves. And what happens when we get scared? We look for the monster under the bed. If we can find the monster, we can chase it out of the house, we can scare it away, we can kill it. We can be safe again.
I think that's where this hatred, this mistrust of all Muslims is coming from in my kids. They need a monster to point at, to chase from the house. And I'm betting that their parents, or other adults they admire and respect, are pointing first. And that scares me.
When we start making characterizations and decisions based on fear, we make mistakes. Creating scapegoats solves nothing, accomplishes nothing. I thought we learned that lesson when Hitler built his concentration camps. But I have students who want to bomb mosques, and I don't know how to change their minds.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I've been to Glamnation and want to go back
I had several things I wanted to do this summer, and, on Aug. 31, I got to check the final one off my list - I saw Adam Lambert live.
Performing at Clowes Hall at Butler, Adam packed the auditorium with such a variety of people, I found myself trying to sort the audience into groups and just couldn't do it cleanly. There was, of course, the rainbow-wearing contengency, enthusiastically dancing to all of the recorded club tracks by MJ, Gaga, Justin Timberlake, Buckcherry, and Ke$ha (to name a few) played before Adam even took the stage. There were the cougars that seem to chase Adam wherever he goes. There were the tweens. But there was also the guy in the plaid shirt with the John Deere cap and big silver belt buckle. There were elderly couples. There were boyfriends with girlfriends and husbands with wives. Say what you want about him, he draws a VERY diverse crowd.
Here, though, is what I want to say about him: THE MAN CAN SING. He opened the show with a song I didn't know - "Voodoo." Theatrically staged, it was a great opener. He kept up the pace with "Fever" and definitely had me hot and bothered by the end of it. (Yes, everyone, I know he's gay. But he's also gorgeous!!)
It wasn't long into the show before he slowed things down, and this is where he really tore me up, and where his vocals absolutely soared. He strung together "Whataya Want from Me," "Time for Miracles," and "Aftermath" with a narrative about love being the most important thing we have to share. I've been going through a rough time in my personal life, and hearing him sing those songs live, in that pure, vibrant voice really touched me. I'll never forget it.
After the ballads, Adam revved us back up with songs I'd been dying to hear from him: "Strut," "Sure Fire Winners," "Sleepwalker," and, thank God, "If I Had You," which was his encore.
There was about an hour between Allison Iraheta's opening show (which was quite good) and Adam's performance - that's a lot of downtime between acts, and I have to admit I was getting a little perturbed. But once he hit the stage, all was forgiven, and I just wanted more. Adam's the real deal, a unique, quality performer, and I can't wait to revisit his Glamnation.
Performing at Clowes Hall at Butler, Adam packed the auditorium with such a variety of people, I found myself trying to sort the audience into groups and just couldn't do it cleanly. There was, of course, the rainbow-wearing contengency, enthusiastically dancing to all of the recorded club tracks by MJ, Gaga, Justin Timberlake, Buckcherry, and Ke$ha (to name a few) played before Adam even took the stage. There were the cougars that seem to chase Adam wherever he goes. There were the tweens. But there was also the guy in the plaid shirt with the John Deere cap and big silver belt buckle. There were elderly couples. There were boyfriends with girlfriends and husbands with wives. Say what you want about him, he draws a VERY diverse crowd.
Here, though, is what I want to say about him: THE MAN CAN SING. He opened the show with a song I didn't know - "Voodoo." Theatrically staged, it was a great opener. He kept up the pace with "Fever" and definitely had me hot and bothered by the end of it. (Yes, everyone, I know he's gay. But he's also gorgeous!!)
It wasn't long into the show before he slowed things down, and this is where he really tore me up, and where his vocals absolutely soared. He strung together "Whataya Want from Me," "Time for Miracles," and "Aftermath" with a narrative about love being the most important thing we have to share. I've been going through a rough time in my personal life, and hearing him sing those songs live, in that pure, vibrant voice really touched me. I'll never forget it.
After the ballads, Adam revved us back up with songs I'd been dying to hear from him: "Strut," "Sure Fire Winners," "Sleepwalker," and, thank God, "If I Had You," which was his encore.
There was about an hour between Allison Iraheta's opening show (which was quite good) and Adam's performance - that's a lot of downtime between acts, and I have to admit I was getting a little perturbed. But once he hit the stage, all was forgiven, and I just wanted more. Adam's the real deal, a unique, quality performer, and I can't wait to revisit his Glamnation.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Lady Gaga was AMAZING!!
There was a party in Indy Thursday night – a Monster Ball to be more precise – and all the freaks were outside. At least, that’s what Lady Gaga said.
The platinum-selling superstar performed all of her hits from both "The Fame" and "The Fame Monster" as well as a few older songs not included on either album. For two hours, Gaga gave her “little monsters” everything they’d hoped for – intricately choreographed dance routines, incredible vocal and musical performances, and an amazing stage show.
It wouldn’t be a complete review of a Lady Gaga performance if the music and costumes were ignored, but it’s important to take a minute to mention her message. When Gaga said “all the freaks are outside,” she did so to try and convey to her fans that they are not freaks, as society so often attempts to paint them.
“Let go of all your insecurities,” she said after singing “Love Game” and before launching into “Boys, Boys, Boys.”
“Reject anyone that said you’re not good enough. You remember you’re a superstar, and you were born that way. Tonight will be your liberation!”
Speaking often about how she wasn’t accepted as a teenager and how she still doesn’t fit into “that whole celebrity thing,” Gaga brought her audience closer to her by identifying with many of them who – judging by their responses – had often felt the same way.
After performing “Money Honey” and before she catapulted into the crazy popular “Telephone,” Gaga took several minutes to talk about the RE*Generation charity she is actively involved with through Virgin Mobile, her tour promoter. RE*Generation works to help the growing number of homeless youth which, according to Gaga, is heavily populated with members of the gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bisexual community. She encouraged her fans to support the charity however they could – through texting donations or even volunteering their time to help organizations supported by RE*Generation.
Judging from the attire of many of her “superfans,” as she liked to refer to the concert-goers, Lady Gaga’s wardrobe is one of the reasons they love her so much. Imitation being the richest form of flattery, there were many in attendance whose outfits were – without a doubt – inspired by “Mother Monster.” With a total of at least 14 costume changes throughout the show, Gaga certainly gave her fans new ideas for the future.
Known for her outrageous outfits, Gaga didn’t disappoint those who were hoping to see some. While performing “The Fame,” she came out in a voluminous red cloak, a la Scarlett O’Hara, as it looked as if curtain rods were the main suspension piece at her shoulders supporting the cloak. Past midpoint of the show, Gaga disappeared inside a round, opaque screen which rather resembled an upside down wedding cake, and came out of it wrapped in a dress comprised of layers and layers of white satin and tulle, complete with a flowing train, a headpiece that looked like a white fan that would open and shut, and silver wings that also opened and closed. In that costume, and in shoes that seemed impossible to walk in, she performed “So Happy I Could Die,” at times more than twenty feet above the stage courtesy of a hydraulic lift.
Perhaps the most outrageous costume of the night was actually three-in-one. At the beginning of “Monster,” in a set comprised of huge, thorn trees and park benches whose backs were overgrown razor blades, Gaga emerged in what could only be described as a gigantic white lamp shade decorated with long white fringe. When she cast that aside, she exposed a jacket made up of very long blonde and brown hair and brightly colored sequins. After her dancers (she had no fewer than ten) “attacked” her and tore the hair jacket from her, she was left in nothing but a black leotard and short black boots. Oh, and she was bloody from where the “monster” had ripped out her heart.
Lady Gaga’s fans adore her. They ate up her performances of “Love Game,” “Telephone,” “Monster,” “Alejandro,” “Poker Face,” and her encore performance of “Bad Romance.” They jumped, they screamed, they danced and screamed some more. And “they” were people of all ages and ethnicities. Couples in their 50s and 60s sat next to others in their late teens or twenties who sat in front of parents with their “tween”-age children. People-watching at Gaga’s show is a great opening act.
And speaking of the opening act, Gaga’s longtime friends Semi-Precious Weapons opened the show with their self-titled track from their new album "You Love You." The four-man band is an interesting blend of punk and rock and their stage performance is even better than the studio-mixed version on the disc. They are high-energy, in-your-face musicians and shouldn’t be missed. Shame on those who came too late to see them.
The platinum-selling superstar performed all of her hits from both "The Fame" and "The Fame Monster" as well as a few older songs not included on either album. For two hours, Gaga gave her “little monsters” everything they’d hoped for – intricately choreographed dance routines, incredible vocal and musical performances, and an amazing stage show.
It wouldn’t be a complete review of a Lady Gaga performance if the music and costumes were ignored, but it’s important to take a minute to mention her message. When Gaga said “all the freaks are outside,” she did so to try and convey to her fans that they are not freaks, as society so often attempts to paint them.
“Let go of all your insecurities,” she said after singing “Love Game” and before launching into “Boys, Boys, Boys.”
“Reject anyone that said you’re not good enough. You remember you’re a superstar, and you were born that way. Tonight will be your liberation!”
Speaking often about how she wasn’t accepted as a teenager and how she still doesn’t fit into “that whole celebrity thing,” Gaga brought her audience closer to her by identifying with many of them who – judging by their responses – had often felt the same way.
After performing “Money Honey” and before she catapulted into the crazy popular “Telephone,” Gaga took several minutes to talk about the RE*Generation charity she is actively involved with through Virgin Mobile, her tour promoter. RE*Generation works to help the growing number of homeless youth which, according to Gaga, is heavily populated with members of the gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bisexual community. She encouraged her fans to support the charity however they could – through texting donations or even volunteering their time to help organizations supported by RE*Generation.
Judging from the attire of many of her “superfans,” as she liked to refer to the concert-goers, Lady Gaga’s wardrobe is one of the reasons they love her so much. Imitation being the richest form of flattery, there were many in attendance whose outfits were – without a doubt – inspired by “Mother Monster.” With a total of at least 14 costume changes throughout the show, Gaga certainly gave her fans new ideas for the future.
Known for her outrageous outfits, Gaga didn’t disappoint those who were hoping to see some. While performing “The Fame,” she came out in a voluminous red cloak, a la Scarlett O’Hara, as it looked as if curtain rods were the main suspension piece at her shoulders supporting the cloak. Past midpoint of the show, Gaga disappeared inside a round, opaque screen which rather resembled an upside down wedding cake, and came out of it wrapped in a dress comprised of layers and layers of white satin and tulle, complete with a flowing train, a headpiece that looked like a white fan that would open and shut, and silver wings that also opened and closed. In that costume, and in shoes that seemed impossible to walk in, she performed “So Happy I Could Die,” at times more than twenty feet above the stage courtesy of a hydraulic lift.
Perhaps the most outrageous costume of the night was actually three-in-one. At the beginning of “Monster,” in a set comprised of huge, thorn trees and park benches whose backs were overgrown razor blades, Gaga emerged in what could only be described as a gigantic white lamp shade decorated with long white fringe. When she cast that aside, she exposed a jacket made up of very long blonde and brown hair and brightly colored sequins. After her dancers (she had no fewer than ten) “attacked” her and tore the hair jacket from her, she was left in nothing but a black leotard and short black boots. Oh, and she was bloody from where the “monster” had ripped out her heart.
Lady Gaga’s fans adore her. They ate up her performances of “Love Game,” “Telephone,” “Monster,” “Alejandro,” “Poker Face,” and her encore performance of “Bad Romance.” They jumped, they screamed, they danced and screamed some more. And “they” were people of all ages and ethnicities. Couples in their 50s and 60s sat next to others in their late teens or twenties who sat in front of parents with their “tween”-age children. People-watching at Gaga’s show is a great opening act.
And speaking of the opening act, Gaga’s longtime friends Semi-Precious Weapons opened the show with their self-titled track from their new album "You Love You." The four-man band is an interesting blend of punk and rock and their stage performance is even better than the studio-mixed version on the disc. They are high-energy, in-your-face musicians and shouldn’t be missed. Shame on those who came too late to see them.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A fun, shivery read - overall
I sift through a lot of book recommendations, wherever they come from, so when several recommended Christopher Ransom’s The Birthing House, I paid attention. It’s a horror story, and the concept sounded interesting, so I bought and read it.
The gist of the story is this: Jo and Conrad Harrison have a troubled marriage. When Conrad’s dad dies and Conrad comes into a substantial inheritance, he buys – on a whim – a 140-year-old Victorian birthing house in Wisconsin. He believes that leaving LA and moving to the rural Midwest will save his marriage.
The birthing house – as you might have guessed from the title – is at the center of the story. For decades, it served as a place for women to have their children under a doctor’s care. I kind of see it as a “midwife clinic,” except that it’s a doctor instead of a midwife.
You learn early on that the house has secrets and probably ghosts. You also learn that even though we tend to think of birth as a happy time, a time of celebration, that isn’t always the case. The house is stained – figuratively and literally.
When Jo gets a job offer that she can’t refuse, she leaves Conrad and the new home for an eight-week training session in Michigan. In her absence, Conrad has to deal with the house and its secrets alone, which isn’t the best for him – physically or mentally.
I’m still not sure how I feel about the book as a whole. I like a good scary story, and there are definitely parts in the novel where I was truly creeped out. I like to read at night, when the house is quiet and dark, and there were times when I’d find myself double-checking a shadow in my room or listening twice to the creak of the house. I like it when a book can do that to me. Would it have done that if I’d read it on my wooden bench in the back yard in the middle of the afternoon? I don’t know. Regardless, I have to give Ransom high marks for the creepy factor. I also really liked the idea behind the story. I’d never read about a birthing house before (although the author lives in one, so I guess they existed), so that was a unique concept for me.
Until I got to the last twenty or thirty pages, I really liked the book. The end got weird. I think I understand what happened in most of those pages, but I truly don’t get the ending. I don’t really know what happened to him, and I don’t think it’s one of those books that is supposed to leave you guessing. I got the feeling I was supposed to understand, and I just didn’t, and I blame that on his writing. It read as though he knew what he meant, but he didn’t get it down on paper to make it as clear to everyone else. I might be off on that, and would welcome other opinions.
Overall, I’d recommend this one if you like to read at night and feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s fun and it’s interesting through most of the story. And if you know what happens to Conrad at the end, please, share that with the rest of the class.
The gist of the story is this: Jo and Conrad Harrison have a troubled marriage. When Conrad’s dad dies and Conrad comes into a substantial inheritance, he buys – on a whim – a 140-year-old Victorian birthing house in Wisconsin. He believes that leaving LA and moving to the rural Midwest will save his marriage.
The birthing house – as you might have guessed from the title – is at the center of the story. For decades, it served as a place for women to have their children under a doctor’s care. I kind of see it as a “midwife clinic,” except that it’s a doctor instead of a midwife.
You learn early on that the house has secrets and probably ghosts. You also learn that even though we tend to think of birth as a happy time, a time of celebration, that isn’t always the case. The house is stained – figuratively and literally.
When Jo gets a job offer that she can’t refuse, she leaves Conrad and the new home for an eight-week training session in Michigan. In her absence, Conrad has to deal with the house and its secrets alone, which isn’t the best for him – physically or mentally.
I’m still not sure how I feel about the book as a whole. I like a good scary story, and there are definitely parts in the novel where I was truly creeped out. I like to read at night, when the house is quiet and dark, and there were times when I’d find myself double-checking a shadow in my room or listening twice to the creak of the house. I like it when a book can do that to me. Would it have done that if I’d read it on my wooden bench in the back yard in the middle of the afternoon? I don’t know. Regardless, I have to give Ransom high marks for the creepy factor. I also really liked the idea behind the story. I’d never read about a birthing house before (although the author lives in one, so I guess they existed), so that was a unique concept for me.
Until I got to the last twenty or thirty pages, I really liked the book. The end got weird. I think I understand what happened in most of those pages, but I truly don’t get the ending. I don’t really know what happened to him, and I don’t think it’s one of those books that is supposed to leave you guessing. I got the feeling I was supposed to understand, and I just didn’t, and I blame that on his writing. It read as though he knew what he meant, but he didn’t get it down on paper to make it as clear to everyone else. I might be off on that, and would welcome other opinions.
Overall, I’d recommend this one if you like to read at night and feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s fun and it’s interesting through most of the story. And if you know what happens to Conrad at the end, please, share that with the rest of the class.
Stephen King's legacy - It's not just his books
I have to admit that when I picked up Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill, I did so because he’s Stephen King’s son, and I was curious what his writing skills and story-telling were like. From now on, I’ll pick up his books because both are high caliber.
Judas (Jude) Coyne is a fifty-something, semi-retired, mega-successful hard rock star. He lives on a farm in rural New York State with his two dogs, Angus and Bon. There is a slowly-revolving door on his house which allows for the entry and exit of young, gothic female fans whom he refers to by the name of the state from which they come. Georgia lives with him when the novel begins. It is his relationships with these young women, his penchant for collecting occult memorabilia, and his ugly childhood that turn the wheels of this story.
When the story opens, Jude’s assistant tells him about an interesting item up for auction online. For $1,000, Jude can own a ghost. It’s a no-brainer. Jude tells his assistant to buy it. A few days later, a heart-shaped box arrives at Jude’s farmhouse and inside the box is a dead man’s suit. With the suit came the ghost. And from that point on, things go increasingly bad for Jude and Georgia.
I don’t know how someone could grow up with Stephen King as his father and remain uninfluenced by the man and his books. The connections are easy to see. (I even think there’s a subtle nod to Maximum Overdrive in Heart-Shaped Box.) But I don’t want you to think that Hill is another King, because he isn’t. His voice is original and strong and this novel was unique and fun to read. Hill’s second novel, Horns, is next on my list. It’s about a guy who wakes up hungover from a wild night and has horns growing out of his head. He’s not sure anyone else can see them, but he can, and he can feel them. I’m looking forward to that ride as well.
Joe Hill is the real deal. He carved a place for himself long before anyone even knew the secret of his family tree. But if you glance at the author’s photo, there’s no denying who his daddy is.
Judas (Jude) Coyne is a fifty-something, semi-retired, mega-successful hard rock star. He lives on a farm in rural New York State with his two dogs, Angus and Bon. There is a slowly-revolving door on his house which allows for the entry and exit of young, gothic female fans whom he refers to by the name of the state from which they come. Georgia lives with him when the novel begins. It is his relationships with these young women, his penchant for collecting occult memorabilia, and his ugly childhood that turn the wheels of this story.
When the story opens, Jude’s assistant tells him about an interesting item up for auction online. For $1,000, Jude can own a ghost. It’s a no-brainer. Jude tells his assistant to buy it. A few days later, a heart-shaped box arrives at Jude’s farmhouse and inside the box is a dead man’s suit. With the suit came the ghost. And from that point on, things go increasingly bad for Jude and Georgia.
I don’t know how someone could grow up with Stephen King as his father and remain uninfluenced by the man and his books. The connections are easy to see. (I even think there’s a subtle nod to Maximum Overdrive in Heart-Shaped Box.) But I don’t want you to think that Hill is another King, because he isn’t. His voice is original and strong and this novel was unique and fun to read. Hill’s second novel, Horns, is next on my list. It’s about a guy who wakes up hungover from a wild night and has horns growing out of his head. He’s not sure anyone else can see them, but he can, and he can feel them. I’m looking forward to that ride as well.
Joe Hill is the real deal. He carved a place for himself long before anyone even knew the secret of his family tree. But if you glance at the author’s photo, there’s no denying who his daddy is.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
A birthday retrospective
I turned 42 today and decided to look backward for a little while. On the walk I took yesterday, I walked one direction for a half hour then turned around and went back the way I’d come. I thought there was something in that – looking at things you’d seen before but from a different perspective. The sunlight was hitting the trees differently, there were fewer shadows (because the sun had risen a little more), I walked on the other side of the road, so I saw things on that side I hadn’t seen on the first half of my walk. I knew that little nugget of an idea would become something, and here it is: my birthday blog.
I turned two in 1970. I’ve perused events from that year and have chosen a few to share – some personal, some not. In January, the first 747 entered into service. I’ve been on several of those in my life. They’ve taken me to some wonderful vacation spots: Cabo San Lucas, Puerto Vallarta, the Bahamas, Phoenix. The two that stand out for me are Cabo in 2008 because it was a family vacation and unforgettable because of those shared memories, and Phoenix – basically for the same reason. I took Tori to see my brother and his wife. It was the first time Tori flew and we had a blast! Also, in July of 1970, American Top 40 with Casey Kasem debuted. I have so many teen memories of that radio show, listening to see who was going to be on top each week. (And I have to admit, I loved the long distance dedications.)
In 1980, Mom remarried and Bob became my dad. There’s not a “step” needed, wanted, or included. Dad has taught me the value of work, laughter, and friendship (and the importance of keeping the oil changed in my car!). Together, he and Mom have taught me the meaning of family. The other big personal milestone for me in 1980 was beginning junior high. ‘Nuff said on that, right? The music world lost Bon Scott, John Bonham, and John Lennon. I don’t remember being affected by the first two – which is ironic because I became a fan of both AC/DC and Zeppelin – but I do remember Lennon’s assassination. Tori and I visited the memorial mosaic in Strawberry Fields in Central Park last year. And then, finally, the film Ordinary People was released. Last fall, the high school drama department staged this, and they did an amazing job with such mature material.
Ten years later, in 1990, I met Jim Gardner, whom I would marry the following year. The marriage didn’t work out, but Tori resulted from it, so I will never, ever regret that marriage. It was a very volatile year: I changed – and lost – jobs more than once. I moved twice – the first time being out of my family home and in with my soon-to-be husband. Lots of emotions ran around that year. On a broader spectrum, here are some international/national events that made me stop and go “Hmmmm” when I surveyed the list for the year: The Hubble Telescope was launched into space. Have you seen any of the pictures that thing has taken? If not, you need to Google them. They’re amazing. On a sad note, Jim Henson died in May. I was a big fan of the Muppets TV show and don’t think I could name just one favorite. Could you? Also in May, the WHO removed homosexuality from its list of diseases. I can’t believe it took that long, and I can’t believe how far we, as a society, are yet from acceptance of homosexuals. In August, Iraq invaded Kuwait, and we know the history of that, don’t we? At the end of September, the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. was finished, and I think I’ll finally get to see it next year!!
Ten years ago, in 2000, I was 32 years old and wrapping up my first year as a high school English teacher while Tori was wrapping up her year as a kindergartener. We were living in our very first apartment – just the two of us – and were very happy as the budding “Gardner Girls.” Looking outside my little world, Charlie Brown missed his last football kick in February when Charles Schulz died. I still love to watch the Peanuts specials at the holidays, don’t you? Playstation 2 was launched early in the year, and do you know, I still have never played with one? We don’t own one – any of the PS versions – and I have absolutely no desire to. In October, Al-Qaeda attacked the USS Cole. Tragically, we know where they struck less than a year later.
So, here I am. It’s 2010 and I’m 42 years old. I have a 16-year-old daughter and am still teaching English, although it’s now to middle school students (whom I much prefer!!). I have a lot to be grateful for in my life: I have a great family and amazing friends. I live my dream every time I sit down to my computer and work on one of my novels. Maybe someday I’ll be published, but maybe I won’t. That’s why it’s a dream. I have a roof over my head, food on my table, and people in my life who care about me.
My hope is that I’ve lived my life in a way that has shown people that I care about them too, that their happiness and well-being are important to me. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed to any of us, so, before I close, please know that I’m grateful for all the goodness God has blessed me with and that I will continue to try and live my life in a way that shows it. To my family and friends – I love ya. Thanks for being part of my life.
I turned two in 1970. I’ve perused events from that year and have chosen a few to share – some personal, some not. In January, the first 747 entered into service. I’ve been on several of those in my life. They’ve taken me to some wonderful vacation spots: Cabo San Lucas, Puerto Vallarta, the Bahamas, Phoenix. The two that stand out for me are Cabo in 2008 because it was a family vacation and unforgettable because of those shared memories, and Phoenix – basically for the same reason. I took Tori to see my brother and his wife. It was the first time Tori flew and we had a blast! Also, in July of 1970, American Top 40 with Casey Kasem debuted. I have so many teen memories of that radio show, listening to see who was going to be on top each week. (And I have to admit, I loved the long distance dedications.)
In 1980, Mom remarried and Bob became my dad. There’s not a “step” needed, wanted, or included. Dad has taught me the value of work, laughter, and friendship (and the importance of keeping the oil changed in my car!). Together, he and Mom have taught me the meaning of family. The other big personal milestone for me in 1980 was beginning junior high. ‘Nuff said on that, right? The music world lost Bon Scott, John Bonham, and John Lennon. I don’t remember being affected by the first two – which is ironic because I became a fan of both AC/DC and Zeppelin – but I do remember Lennon’s assassination. Tori and I visited the memorial mosaic in Strawberry Fields in Central Park last year. And then, finally, the film Ordinary People was released. Last fall, the high school drama department staged this, and they did an amazing job with such mature material.
Ten years later, in 1990, I met Jim Gardner, whom I would marry the following year. The marriage didn’t work out, but Tori resulted from it, so I will never, ever regret that marriage. It was a very volatile year: I changed – and lost – jobs more than once. I moved twice – the first time being out of my family home and in with my soon-to-be husband. Lots of emotions ran around that year. On a broader spectrum, here are some international/national events that made me stop and go “Hmmmm” when I surveyed the list for the year: The Hubble Telescope was launched into space. Have you seen any of the pictures that thing has taken? If not, you need to Google them. They’re amazing. On a sad note, Jim Henson died in May. I was a big fan of the Muppets TV show and don’t think I could name just one favorite. Could you? Also in May, the WHO removed homosexuality from its list of diseases. I can’t believe it took that long, and I can’t believe how far we, as a society, are yet from acceptance of homosexuals. In August, Iraq invaded Kuwait, and we know the history of that, don’t we? At the end of September, the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. was finished, and I think I’ll finally get to see it next year!!
Ten years ago, in 2000, I was 32 years old and wrapping up my first year as a high school English teacher while Tori was wrapping up her year as a kindergartener. We were living in our very first apartment – just the two of us – and were very happy as the budding “Gardner Girls.” Looking outside my little world, Charlie Brown missed his last football kick in February when Charles Schulz died. I still love to watch the Peanuts specials at the holidays, don’t you? Playstation 2 was launched early in the year, and do you know, I still have never played with one? We don’t own one – any of the PS versions – and I have absolutely no desire to. In October, Al-Qaeda attacked the USS Cole. Tragically, we know where they struck less than a year later.
So, here I am. It’s 2010 and I’m 42 years old. I have a 16-year-old daughter and am still teaching English, although it’s now to middle school students (whom I much prefer!!). I have a lot to be grateful for in my life: I have a great family and amazing friends. I live my dream every time I sit down to my computer and work on one of my novels. Maybe someday I’ll be published, but maybe I won’t. That’s why it’s a dream. I have a roof over my head, food on my table, and people in my life who care about me.
My hope is that I’ve lived my life in a way that has shown people that I care about them too, that their happiness and well-being are important to me. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed to any of us, so, before I close, please know that I’m grateful for all the goodness God has blessed me with and that I will continue to try and live my life in a way that shows it. To my family and friends – I love ya. Thanks for being part of my life.
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