Your NeverEnding Story

I have just finished my first day at LEEP (the on-campus portion of online learning program at the Graduate School of Library and Information Science at the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana) and I probably should be reading or studying. However, my mind cannot stop thinking about the experiences that I shared with my classmates today. Each person was given about 30 seconds to introduce him or herself, and in those 30 seconds, I learned that each person had a story that was unique and important. I believed this was true before I came to LEEP, but I never realized how varied and fascinating each person would be – and how much I can learn from each one. The ability to tell our own stories, to explain our decisions and journeys, gives us the power to make our lives extraordinary. As we head into the 1980s, a slew of Newbery winners and honor books celebrated the art of memoir, introducing young readers (and myself) to worlds unknown.
           A Gathering of Days: A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-1832 by Joan W. Blos rightly deserved to win of the 1980 Newbery Medal, grabbing the reader into the intricate world of 1830’s New Hampshire. It is narrated by Catherine Hall, a young teen whose resilience in dealing with death, responsibility, and politics. The issue of slavery comes to forefront when Catherine helps a runaway slave from freezing. (I particularly enjoyed the stance of her abolitionist schoolteacher and the ruckus he causes by speaking his mind.) While this is a fictionalized journal, the details are so rich, the characters so vivid, and the setting so real that after you finish it, you feel like you knew Catherine, and she may well has been your great-great-great grandmother somewhere. Unlike A Gathering of Days, which is based on historical research, The Road from Home: The Story of an Armenian Girl by David Kheridian, the Honor book for 1980, is the true story of his mother’s survival and faith after her family is killed by the Turks. I had no idea about this event in history and it was a wake-up call about the horrific destruction of the Armenian people and culture. Throughout it all, his mother finds reservoirs of strength to overcome set backs and danger and eventually finds a new home for herself.
           I was a little more familiar with the subject matter of Upon the Head of the Goat: A Childhood in Hungary 1939-1944 by Aranka Siegal, a 1982 Honor book, which describes an idyllic childhood that comes to an end with the Nazi invasion. And yet, while I know the historical facts and background, hearing an individual’s experience carried tremendous emotional weight. With unsparing attention to detail, Siegal describes the acceleration of persecution, while retaining a compassionate spirit and faith in humanity. I cannot fathom how Siegal retells her own story without anger and bitterness, but this novel proves that even when a person is made into a nonentity, there is an eternal part that can rise above.
           Homesick by Jean Fritz, a 1983 Honor book, documents her life as a child in China and her difficult return to the United States. Fritz intersperses historical information with her experiences of being a “foreign devil” in a country at the brink of revolution. As the big picture is revealed piece-by-piece, Fritz’s story is never slighted. She clearly shows how Fritz does belong to either world and her process to reconcile these two separate parts of herself. For anyone who has ever felt torn, Fritz lets us know that we are not alone. For me, the knowledge that someone else has had a similar emotional experience is the best part of reading memoirs. As unique as we think our reactions are, they really aren’t. Everyone gets overwhelmed, scared, unsure of themselves, and conflicted; and they also get excited, fascinated, inspired and hopeful. After hearing these various reactions today, I know that I am not alone. And neither is anyone else.

 

 

Heroic Contest

In honor of finishing reading another decade's worth of Newbery winners, and due to the generosity of Barry Lyga, I have a free signed copy of Hero-Type by Barry Lyga to give away.

Here's the deal: To enter the drawing to win, just comment (and "Like" if you haven't already) on my Facebook page (From Cover to Cover with Eti) and write down the name of your favorite hero (super or otherwise) and why he/she deserves that title. If I pull your name from my metaphorical hat, I will mail you Hero-Type for FREE.

Here's a little information about Hero-Type to whet your appetite. Believe me, it will blow-your-mind.

Hero-Type

Maybe it's courage, the kind Kevin Ross (Kross to his friends) showed when he saved Leah Muldoon's life.
Maybe it's living with your own guilt so someone else doesn't have to...
Maybe it's the way Kross was in the right place at the right time...
Or the way he wouldn't back down when everything that mattered  to him was called into question.
Maybe it's keeping your friends close--like the Council of Fools, a motley collection of goofballs and whacked-out teenage jesters--even when they don't really understand you.
Or maybe it's striving to do the right thing...
Or figure out what the right thing is in the first place.
Maybe it's trying to figure out how to live with a father who  barely speaks, a father who guards a dark secret from his past.
Maybe it's all of this.
Or none of this.
Kross saved someone's life. Maybe that's enough to make him a hero, regardless of his own terrible secret.
Then again...
Maybe not.

You can download Chapter 1 from http://barrylyga.com/new/hero-type.html.

While you're there, check out the rest of Barry Lyga's books, including his newest book, Goth Girl Rising. 

Up Where We Belong

I am currently going through the stressful process of looking for a new apartment. More than anything else, not knowing where I am going to live fills me with fear and trepidation about the future. Choosing a place to live is loaded with so many careful considerations, from the quality of the neighbors, character of the neighborhood, and physical layout of the apartment, that making any choice feels extremely daunting. We spend our entire lives looking for a place to rest our heads, to find peace and security. Finding a place in the scheme of things, a place where we belong is not easy. Uncovering our true home is one of the greatest mysteries in our lives. The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin, winner of the 1979 Newbery Medal, and The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson, the 1979 Honor book, reveal, in very different ways, how facing the unknown can help people find their place in the universe. 
 

The Westing Game is the ultimate mystery, probing readers from the first page to notice each detail of plot, character, and setting to discover who killed Sam Westing. People, who would otherwise be strangers, are paired together to play Westing's game to find his killer, and these partnerships yield surprising results. No one is who he or she really claims to be, and has plenty of skeletons in their closet to make them a suspect. However, this caper forces the characters to take stock of why they were selected to reside at Sunset Towers, a glitzy apartment building that faces Westing's home. Without spoiling the story, this experience changes the lives of all who play the game, especially for the winner, who catches a glimpse of future ambitions and learns how to cultivate them. 



While the character in The Westing Game struggle with finding their place within the mystery, Galadrial Hopkins, or The Great Gilly Hopkins, has the challenge of finding a permanent home after a long string of foster homes. A wild, rambunctious, blunt child, she has yet to find foster parents that can truly understand (and manage) her. Gilly still holds out hope for her birth mother, Courtney, to rescue her from the system and sweep her away to a perfect home in California. No matter how welcoming Mrs. Trotter, her foster mother, is, Gilly prickles at her ministrations. She mocks her fellow foster child, William Earnest, for his mental deficits, and steals money from Mr. Randolph, an elderly Black neighbor who joins the family for meals. Using the stolen money, she buys a one-way ticket to San Fransisco. Her escape is foiled by the police, and she rejoins Trotter's family. This time, however, is different. She is given the choice to stay with Trotter until her mother contacts her, and decides to stay. Trotter assigns her chores to earn money to repay Mr. Randolph and Gilly learns what it means to be part of a family. She helps William Earnest with his schoolwork and teaches him to defend himself, takes care of their house, and nurses Trotter, William Earnest, and Mr. Randolph when they come down with the flu. Giving back to her caretaker and feeling needed transforms Gilly from a 'mean' flower into a blossoming rose. It is then when her past unexpectedly catches up with her and her dream of reuniting with her birth mother comes true. Gilly's story is, all at the same time, heartbreaking, humorous, insightful, and infuriating. Reading about Gilly reminded me of a wonderful program from PBS called This Emotional Life, and its segment of attachment in early life. They interviewed a family who had adopted a boy from Russia and were having difficulty dealing with his behavior and emotional issues. As a toddler, he had not formed strong attachments to his adult caregivers, who did not hold him when he cried or needed to be comforted. He learned from this that he could not trust or rely on adults, and as he grew up these early experiences "continued to influence how he behaves and felt about himself and others". Understanding their son in this context helped his parents deal with his behavior and get him the help he needed. I wonder if the Tennessee woman who shamefully sent back her 7 year old adopted son to Russia was aware of these common issues associated with orphans. This "throw-away" attitude directly contrasts with Trotter's feelings about Gilly. Although Gilly has attachment issues, steals, fights, and runs away, Trotter still wants to be her foster mother. Unconditional love like this is rare. Trotter does something even more exceptional. Not only does she accept Gilly back into her home, but she is willing, just as easily, to let Gilly go if it's the right thing for her. Experiencing this kind of selflessness can only mean that home is nearby.

>>> Another decade done, four more to go!>>>

Ice Ice Baby

Some books have to be put in the freezer and only taken out at select occasions. Books like Little Women, the final book in the Harry Potter series, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred Taylor, winner of the 1977 Newbery Medal, and Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, winner of the 1978 Newbery Medal, have to be shelved until the time is right. This is not because they are poorly written books, but on the contrary, they are so powerful that they can overwhelm us with their awesomeness. The emotional themes that they explore like growing up, racism, tolerance, loss, and grief are difficult to process and often provoke unsettling emotions. I finished re-reading both Newbery winners in public places and should have known better. While sitting in Starbucks, I downed my vanilla latte in a bout of tears. Yet, there was a catharsis in allowing myself to cry for the broken worlds within - and outside - these novels. Like Cassie, the narrator of Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry, I cannot fathom how there can be so much hate in the world, and want to scream, "Does it have to be?!" (275). And like Jess in Bridge to Terabithia, I sometimes want to escape to a magical world of possibilities - even if it's only in my own mind. These books are so potent that I save the pleasure of reading them for times when I need to weep and let out my emotions. In the meantime, when I crave them, I have created a playlist for each of them to get me by. Share your suggestions for additional songs in the comments or on my Facebook page.

Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry

We Shall Overcome covered by Bruce Springsteen
You've Got to Be Carefully Taught by Rodgers & Hammerstein
Where is the Love? by the Black Eyed Peas
This Land is My Land by Woody Guthrie
No Woman No Cry by Bob Marley
One Day by Matisyahu

Bridge to Terabithia

Free to be You and Me by Marlo Thomas and Friends
What a Wondeful World by Louis Armstrong 
Broken Bridge by Daughter Darling
Bridge Over Troubled Waters by various artists (Simon and Garfunkel, Elvis, Eva Cassidy, Johnny Cash, and yes, Rockapella)
With a little Help from my Friends by the Beatles
Under the Bridge covered by Gym Glass Heroes 

Free Lesson Plans 
I had the opportunity to teach Bridge to Terabithia in sixth grade a couple years ago and now have the chance to share my resources with you. Click on the link below to access the Bridge to Terabithia Unit and feel free to contact me if you have any questions or suggestions.

Bridge to Terabithia Unit

Talking Like Claire (but not the crazy one)

     The first sign of my neurosis happened at my friend Chavie’s house. We were having lunch with her sister’s British in-laws, and enjoying each other’s company. I was helping to pass out food and after I asked them if they would like some potatoes, I realized too late that I had asked them this in a pseudo-British accent. I simply could not help mimicking their accents. This set up a chain of events where exposure to certain appealing stimuli (as in True Blood/Lost marathons) would provoke me to absorb the character’s accents. My friends should be grateful that Lost is almost over and I will stop talking like Claire soon. However, I have now moved on to the next big thing: Wales. Ever since high school, I have had an intense fascination with Welsh culture and history. The Grey King by Susan Cooper, winner of the 1976 Newbery Medal, and A String in the Harp by Nancy Bond, a Newbery Honor book for 1977, both rekindled my love for this wild, magical land, and yes, added a Welsh lilt to my voice.

    

The Grey King is the fourth of the five books in the Dark is Rising series. (The Dark is Rising, the second book in the series, was a Newbery Honor book in 1974.) Inspired by Welsh and Arthurian legends, the series depicts the epic struggle of good versus evil, championed by an ordinary boy named Will Stanton. Will is sent to Wales to recover from hepatitis and has lost all memory of his true destiny and identity. In Wales he meets Bran, an albino boy with a mysterious past and knowledge of the Light, the powers of good. Despite his instructions to rest and gather his strength, the forces of Darkness have other plans. Will must use his wits, magical powers, and new allies to overcome the Grey King. Vivid details about Welsh life, geography, and culture are sprinkled throughout the story to make the country come alive. While the story itself is a fantasy, the world of Wales, with its high-peaked mountains, roaming green hills, and flocks of sheep feel incredibly real and alluring.

Unlike my romantic notions of Wales, Wales represents endless freezing rain, sinking bogs, and tiny dreary villages to Peter Morgan in A String in the Harp. Peter resents being dragged away from his friends and home to spend a year in Wales while his father teaches at the University of Wales at Aberystwyth. He misses his mother terribly, who passed away suddenly, leaving her bewildered husband to cope with his three distraught children. Ten-year-old Becky, adapts easily to new life, as a natural people-person who is excited about new experiences. Her older sister, Jen, is in 10^th grade and stays in America, living with her Aunt Beth, until the semester is over. She, too, is open to the wonders of Wales. It is only when Peter finds a strange harp key by the sea that his attitude begins to change. The key is directly connected to the experiences of Taliesin, the master bard of Wales, who lived during the sixth century. When Peter touches the key, he watches Taliesin’s life unfold before him. Peter becomes obsessed with understanding Taliesin’s history and gradually loses interest in resisting Wales. The modern world and Taliesin’s world begin to blur, and Peter must act to set things right. At the same as Peter tries to fix what has been undone for Taliesin, his family gradually bridges the gaps between them. They learn to communicate and support each other. The most magical part of this story is their journey to become a family again. The process is arduous and complicated, but in the end, Peter realizes “that he was part of other people and they part of him and he was glad”. Like Taliesin, he becomes a string in the harp, part of something more, something beautiful.

I'll Remember

When we find historical sites, a work of art, or a piece of literature, we understand our responsibility to do all we can to preserve these artifacts. They provide insight into the past that can be touched and measured, and become priceless. However, when an intangible part of the past, like a way of life or family heirloom, is at risk, it is much more difficult to recognize the necessity of saving it for the future. M.C. Higgins, the Great by Virginia Hamilton, winner of the 1975 Newbery Medal, and The Hundred Penny Box by Sharon Bell Mathis, a 1976 Honor book, explore the importance of protecting unique parts of the past.

M.C. Higgins lives with his family in the remote area in the hills of West Virginia, on what they call "Sarah's Mountain". According to their family tradition, M.C.'s great-grandmother, Sarah, escaped slavery to settle in the wilds of Virgina and his family has lived there ever since. Their way of life is threatened, however, by the huge pile of rubble from strip mining that rests precariously above their home. The wild world around the Higgin's family has been tainted by developers who have drained the natural resources, without a thought about the environmental impact. M.C. believes that it is inevitable that his family's home and way of life will be crushed by the mountain. It takes a visit by two strangers, particularly an attractive teenage girl, to shift M.C. from his defeatist notions. From Lurhetta Outlaw he learns to contradict his assumptions about what is possible, and he decides that he will fight to protect his family's home. His way of life is secured when he decides that it is worth saving.

The Hundred Penny Box is a book that says something big in a small way. Michael's Great-great-great-aunt Dew lives with him and his parents, and he shares a special connection with her. Aunt Dew often confuses Michael with his father, John, who Aunt Dew raised, but Michael doesn't mind. Aunt Dew owns a treasured possession, the hundred penny box, which contains a penny for each year of her life. This causes conflict with Michael's mother, who can't understand why a worn-out box of pennies is so important to Aunt Dew. Aunt Dew tells Michael that "when I lose my hundred penny box, I lose myself" (19). Embedded in each coin is a year of memories. Her memories are illustrated in abstract penny-colored paintings that vividly show the connection between pennies and memories. All Aunt Dew has to do is pick up the penny and she can see Reconstruction, birthing her twin boys, sewing dresses during the Great Depression, and John falling out from trees in Atlanta. The box itself has significance, as a gift from her late husband, Henry. The hundred penny box is not a thing to Aunt Dew; it is a part of her. She has had a rich and fulfilling life, and while she no longer has a home of her own, the hundred penny box is a testament to all that she experienced and endured. In this context, preserving the hundred penny box is of tantamount importance. Not only does the hundred penny box remind Aunt Dew of her life, it provides a beautiful opportunity for her to share the story of her life with her great-great-great nephew, who will continue to share her pennies long after she's gone.

Lost in the Library

The best memories of my childhood didn’t happen on birthdays or holidays. They happened on Tax Rebate Day. On this day, my mother would arrive home carrying a large cardboard box, its flaps barely containing the treasures within. I would then pounce on the box and tear it open to grab what was inside, the most exciting gift possible: new books. Fanning the crisp pages, I would breathe in the faint smell of ink, paper, and dust. After reading the summaries on the book jackets, I would then carefully select my first read, curl up in a comfortable chair, and lose myself within the pages. Looking back, I realize that my appreciation for books stemmed from my mother making reading a priority despite our strained financial situation. Even after Tax Rebate Day, my mother would make time during her busy work schedule to bring me to the local public library and wait patiently while I made the impossible choice of deciding which books to borrow. I never wanted to leave the library. I walked inside and I was home, surrounded by familiar faces and friends. In the library I could be completely myself, a nerdy, inquisitive, and ambitious girl, who didn’t quite fit into my conservative community. Libraries served as a gateway to new worlds, and continue to act as ‘wardrobes’ to amazing possibilities.

In our time of economic crisis, libraries are under attack as “luxuries” and “expendable” parts of our society. This could not be further from the truth. Library usage increases exponentially when people are suffering financially. More than offering excellent resources for job seekers, libraries provide a warm, calming space to gather one’s strength and face the world. As I look at the tableau of human life at my library, I spy young mothers with their excited children, vocal teenagers, elderly people, and shy hipsters. Each has come to the library for a different purpose, and yet, the library will fit their needs. This week (April 11-17) is National Library Week, and it should give us pause to consider how our lives are enriched by libraries and librarians. I visit my local library, the Northtown branch of Chicago Public Libraries, at least once a week. Sometimes I go there more often than Jewel (gasp!). I asked my friends on Facebook to offer suggestions of how to show my appreciation for these librarians, which included books, drugs, action figures, and an assortment of cheese. The best (and most practical) advice came from Laurie Halse Anderson, author of Speak, Chains, and Wintergirls. She said to send “a copy of the letter you send to local and state officials explaining how much you appreciate the work of that librarian, and how pleased you are that taxpayer dollars provide such a great community benefit. That, and flowers." I plan on doing just that, and including chocolate to add a personal touch. Whatever you do to recognize your local librarian, it’s time to show our support and gratitude.

Other suggestions to show your appreciation:

1. Simply tell them thank you and how much you appreciate their hard work.

2. Donate books to your local library.

3. Write a thank-you note to the person (parent, guardian, friend) who encouraged you to use the library.

4. Create a homemade card, poster, or bookmark.

5. Participate in events at your library.

Comic Book Tattoo

A rabbi once told my friend Shayna that comic books were the devil. Without reading a single page or glancing at the artwork, he judged the entire institution of comics as inherently flawed and harmful to innocent young minds. While some comics may fit this specific category, many comics and graphic novels are hardly bastions of sin and destruction. On the contrary, comics can capture our imagination and expose us to worlds unknown.

The power of comics is clearly seen in the reemergence of young adult literacy. When I was student teaching, my students would spend recess (and other times too) swapping copies of Fruit Basket and other Manga comics, excited to share the characters' continued adventures. Bored with all other reading material, they found kindred spirits in the comics. In this environment I had the arduous task of teaching The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, his lesser work, but harder to grasp than the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Trying to find ways to make Middle Earth, magic, and rings relevant to my students was difficult. Even after I included music, performances, and art into the lessons, the students struggled with understanding Tolkien's fantastic world. Only after I finished student teaching did I discover a graphic novel version of The Hobbit that would have engaged my highly visual students and helped them understand the text. Those who are opposed to comics argue that graphic novels 'dumb down' the content and take away the students' participation from imagining the world within the novels. However, this is what makes comics and graphic novels stand out from filmed adaptations of literature. While comics give readers clarity, the readers are still required to actively read it and fill in gaps with their imagination. Due to the structure of graphic novels, artists may use more abstract styles to draw characters, setting, or action, which allow students to expand upon the artists' work with their own minds. Instead of being limited by the specific panels of the story, students imagine the world that expands beyond the boundaries of the pages.

I experienced this feeling when I read Volume I of the Twilight graphic novel. I admit that I had my hesitations, and wondered why the Twilight oeuvre needed another contribution. However, I was blown away by the results. The finished product is breathtakingly beautiful and each page stands out as its own work of art. Young Kim, the artist and adapter of Twilight, is a master of design, color, and content. Illustrated in mostly black and white, Kim deliberately includes color to evoke subtle emotional responses. As Bella leaves Arizona, the pages fade from a warm sepia to a stark black and white. When Edward finally reveals himself to her, the setting is bathed in lovely green and gold, sparkling with sunlight and possibilities. In Wizard of Oz fashion, Bella and Edward are made technicolor by his confession. Stephanie Meyer wrote in the introduction that the "art made [Twilight] fresh again" and I couldn't agree more. After reading it, I nostalgically remembered my first taste of Twilight and wanted to rediscover this captivating world. It made me want to reread the entire series.

This desire counters the argument that graphic novels cause us to lose sight of the original pieces and make us lazy. I think that reading adaptations reveals new layers of the original piece and inspires people to reread them. I just read Tim Hamilton adaptation of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, a gorgeous and provocative retelling of the classic, and a tongue in cheek reminder of the message of the text. (Interestingly, in the original book, Bradbury wrote "No wonder books stopped selling, the critics said. But the public, knowing what it wanted, spinning happily, let the comic books survive.") After I read it, I wanted to know more, to read the original and get deeper into Montag's mind and emotions. Bradbury's fears that television and mass media would eliminate readership may have come to pass, but graphic novels like this one prove that thoughtful, critical readers still exist.

No discussion about graphic novels would be complete without mentioning master storyteller, Barry Lyga, who branched out from writing comics to writing about comics. The action in his novel The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl centers around Donnie, aka Fanboy, who secretly works on a complex graphic novel called Schemata in the hopes that publishing it will free him from his 'so-called' life. This isn't melodramatic; Fanboy has plenty of challenges including divorce, a step-father, pregnant mother, and bullies. It is only when he meets Kyra, aka Goth Girl, a brash, fearless, sarcastic girl who encourages his art, that his situation begins to shift. In the sequel, Goth Girl Rising, the reader gets to know Kyra better, especially in her emotionally charged letters to Neil Gaiman, author of the Sandman comics, a must-read for any true fan. Throughout both novels, Schemata is central to the plot and development of the characters. As Donnie and Kyra change, so does Schemata. Not only do the novels themselves read like comics, with the reader desperate to read the next page, but Barry Lyga and Jim Di Bartolo created a series of comic strips called "Goth Girl Follies" for those of us who can't get enough of our favorite cynic. (Believe me, once you read Goth Girl Rising, you will want to be Kyra!) These comic strips enhance what is already an incredible novel, and yeah, they're also funny. Click on the comic strips to enlarge them and check out the rest of the "Goth Girl Follies".

* This is my favorite one - for obvious reasons.

It's not really YA literature, but I couldn't pass up an opportunity to mention Comic Book Tattoo, a collection of comics from some of the most talented artists based on songs by Tori Amos. Each interpretation reminds me of why her music resonates with me and inspires me to create my own art.

John Green and David Levithan Book Tour

No matter how many times I tell myself to be cool, my heart still races. I rack my brain to come up with a clever, memorable comment - something that will make them laugh or at least smirk. Hell, I'd pay hard cash for a chortle. But, alas, I regress into a child with the eloquence of a bowl of Jello. Does this happen to you when you meet your favorite authors? It seems impossible to convey much they have impacted my life without sounding cheesy, cliche, or creepy. Still, I can't be the only one who feels so deeply without being a disturbed stalker or Twilighter. The event that provoked this intense emotion was my visit with my friend Adriane to the Belmont Theatre Building (thanks to the Book Cellar) to see David Levithan and John Green discuss their latest book, Will Grayson, Will Grayson.

The book is written in alternating chapters from the perspective of two teens named Will Grayson who undergo parallel processes. Rather than offering the standard reading, they performed a reader's theater version of John's chapter and then David's chapter. Both were incredibly witty and humorous, while exploring deeper themes, just like the rest of their books. The highlight of the experience was the Q&A session when they discussed their craft, influences, experiences, and reasons for writing - all in a completely non-pretentious way. They exuded humility, and gratitude to all those who supported them. As they spoke, I remembered half-born stories that I had put aside and felt inspiration stirring. They made me want to work on my writing and bring my stories to life. Moreover, they remind me why I am obsessed with them in the first place. Their work speaks to my soul - to the possibilities that have yet to linger and the strings that are broken. They make me dream of an endless night that will transform me forever, and an epic road trip to a fictional city. My perspective on life has been enriched by their work, both by exposure to enlightening ideas and the affirmation that I am not alone in my nerdy, inquisitive ways. I wish there was a way to express my appreciation that didn't sound so much like lyrics to Wind Beneath My Wings. Still, I know they will understand if the words come out wrong or garbled. They understand the human condition of supreme awkwardness. While I may not have declared my adoration in iambic pentameter, I told them how glad I was to meet them and John Green liked my name. And that's got to count for something.














* Sorry for the pictures' blurriness. I tried to take a picture when other people were filming too, but it didn't quite work as expected.

If you look closely towards the back and to the left, you will see Adriane and me saying "Good morning, Hank!" in John Green's Vlogbrothers video for Monday. Click on the video below to see it.

True Colors

I'm watching Arranged, a movie about an unlikely friendship between an Orthodox Jewish woman and a religious Muslim woman that develops as they navigate their way through arranged marriages. As I watch, I am captivated by the natural ease of their friendship and the common ground they find in each other. But the part I love about this film is the absolute reality it captures. I have met the bossy Shadchan, who pushes 'girls' to go out on dates with incompatible 'boys'. I have met parents who want the best for their daughter, but push her away in the process. And I have met Rochels, women who are frustrated by the Shidduch system and don't want to settle for Mr. Available. This attention to detail gives this film its authenticity and makes it believable. The director/writer of Arranged may not be an Orthodox Jew (or religious Muslim) himself, but with careful research, and the watchful eye of Yuta Silverman, the inspiration behind the project, Arranged captures the essence of hidden worlds with sensitivity and insight.

However, films like Arranged, A Price Above Rubies, and A Stranger Among Us, to name a few, raise difficult questions about depicting Orthodox Jews in mainstream media. These kinds of films are often critiqued for their inaccurate or unfairly critical portrayal of Jews, and for airing our "dirty laundry" in public. (Frankly, you don’t need to watch movies to see the worst in the Jewish community – just read the New York Times or Google "New Jersey, rabbi".) Literature written in the Orthodox Jewish community does not fill this void. Characters are flat representations of goodness and humility, plots are cliché and bland, and the writing style is horrendous. The community does not allow for flawed and human characters who are real and vibrant, and Jewish writers who dare to write about these pressing issues are criticized for being self-hating Jews. The joke, however, is on the Jewish community. Writers like Tova Mervis, Etgar Keret, and of course, Shalom Auslander, write with such keen understanding that must stem from their own Jewish identities, combined with a love of humanity. This brings us to the question of today's blog: How much depends on an insider's perspective or can compelling realistic fiction be written by outsiders? Do writers lose credibility when they are "others?" Or is it another kind of censorship to hold writers back from telling stories that are important to them, ones they might not have experienced themselves? How many moccasins must we walk in to really understand another person's culture and write about it convincingly? The winners of the 1973-74 Newbery Medals are both women who wrote powerful fiction about cultures unlike their own, and opened up questions about the nature of multicultural literature.

Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, winner of the 1973 Newbery Medal, developed from George's own connection to nature, relationship with an Inuit woman, and communication with actual wolves. In her novel, she tells the story of Julie, a young woman who runs away to the Alaskan tundra to escape a miserable marriage. When I read this book as a child, I was outraged by the child-marriage that Julie endures, but as an adult, I was more affected by the message of the loss of the indigenous Inuit people, whose rich culture is at risk when exposed to gussak, or American, ways. While not Inuit herself, George is an advocate for treasuring their way of life and believes in many of the same values. Like Julie, she has a deep love and reverence for nature, a strong understanding of animals' habits and behavior, and an appreciation of the old ways of Eskimo life. While "the hour of the wolf and the Eskimo is over," by writing about their timeless culture, George has exposed generations of children and adults to a world whose story may have otherwise gone untold.

The Slave Dancer by Paula Fox, winner of the 1974 Newbery Medal, may have opened the discussion of the horrors of slavery in children's literature. While Amos Fortune, Free Man (1951 Newbery Medal winner) and I, Juan de Pareja (1966 Newbery Medal winner) touched upon this issue, their experiences with benevolent masters in (somewhat) comfortable settings did not depict the inhuman conditions on slave ships like Fox does. While some critics praise her frank portrayal of slavery, others find faults in her work. Fox has been criticized by black author Sharon Bell Mathis in the journal Interracial Books for Children for promoting “stereoptyoes about Africa and about Blacks in general.” Again, an author's own life can giver her credibility to write about a culture different from her own. As a child, Fox was passed from relative to relative after being rejected by her mother. Her childhood gave her firsthand understanding of abandonment, isolation, and loneliness. She then took all of her struggles and make them into art. Rather than sugarcoating the past, she exposed children to the truth, allowing them to see America at its worst and come to their own conclusions about slavery. Like Jessie, the narrator, who loses his ability to listen to music after being forced to make the slaves dance while playing his flute, our innocence - our childhood music - is lost when we are confronted with the harsh reality that we are all infected by the poison of slavery. Whether you are a fan of Fox or not, there is no denying that The Slave Dancer was part of the movement that opened the floodgates to create a culture of open dialogue about race in America. Works like Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry by Mildred D. Taylor (winner of the 1977 Newbery Medal), The Watsons Go to Birmingham: 1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis (1996 Honor Book), and Show Way by Jacqueline Woodson (2006 Honor Book) are testaments that the conversation continues to evolve as we discuss race.