Need for Lighter Literary Entrees

Just as we are what we eat, what is ingested intellectually (and let's face it, often on a spiritual level) can color one's outlook. Neither a "good" or "bad" thing, depending on the nature of what is being read, the experience can lead into some dark, though not wholly unsavory, places. This reality is further enhanced in the winter months of perceptibly shorter days and longer periods of darkness...

As a result of recent wear-and-tear that has kept me from running, I have more time. In an effort to fill this gap constructively, I have been reading quite a bit, perhaps more than usual. Though not part of some New Year's literacy resolution, since the start of the new calendar year I have been taking in numerous titles in rapid succession including The Southern Reach Trilogy (Annihilation, Authority and Acceptance) and Borne by Jeff VanderMeer, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Roadside Picnic by Boris Strugatsky and Arkady Strugatsky, Monsters Among Us: An Exploration of Otherworldly Bigfoots, Wolfmen, Portals, Phantoms, and Odd Phenomena by Linda S. Godfrey, March Book One by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin, and Nate Powell, and Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.

As is always the case with new menu items, in some case I have taken one or two bites and walked away. The Breach by Patrick Lee, for example, just didn't offer enough nutritious value to warrant a full commitment. My personal reading, as has been the case for going on 35 years(!), is always supplemented by a healthy diet of 6-17 comic book titles weekly ranging from the familiar (Action Comics, Detective Comics, The Walking Dead, Black Panther) to "smaller" titles (Evolution, Atomic Robo, Saga, Hack/Slash or Bloodshot).

Each of the literary dishes on this reconstituted diet plan contained some very satisfying flavors in the moments of their enjoyment. In retrospect, however, the majority also possessed some dark and bitter tones. There is a valid argument to be made that much good reading, when considered beyond the superficial, does. Of course, this type of diet does not come without consequences, especially to a body (or mind--trying to stick to my metaphor!) already deficient in certain nutrients. Just as a lack of sunlight in one's day may require adding a Vitamin D supplement to any gustatory regimen, at some point, lighter, more uplifting literature becomes a necessity.

This is where I am at today--in dire need of some light, airy, new reading! While I have a number of books of poetry I turn to for warmth, and more than enough long boxes of past favorites from a "friendlier" time in comic books, filling this requirement in traditional longer-form narrative literature is always a challenge. Interestingly, two recent titles I have enjoyed in the past deal with anthropomorphic animals--a pattern I am unsure as to why it exists it my personal reading tastes (especially as I no longer literally "eat" animals). The first came from a recommendation made on NPR Radio. A few summers ago I read a wonderful piece of historical fiction entitled The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe. It remains the rare book that is neither insultingly silly or immature, that tells a compelling story with weight in a manner that suggests joy and warmth. It also serves as a reminder of the value of expanding one's book choice as it was purchased on a lark, but was significantly rewarding. The second was first read ten years ago and (brainstorming as I write this) may very well get reread soon for purposes of sharing with my current high school juniors, Benjamin Hoff's The Tao of Pooh.

With these two titles (and a few others) in mind, the search for lighter literary entrees continues as I attempt to cleanse my intellectual and spiritual palette of some darker (albeit delicious) flavors...

Summer Reading: Hillbilly Elegy

After sitting on my bookshelf for almost six months, I finally dove into Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis by J. D. Vance. Much like another book I recently read, How Dare the Sun Rise: Memoirs of a War Child by Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta, this novel is a by-the-numbers memoir. In both instances, it is the content that distinguishes each. Both Vance and Uwiringiyimana come from very different perspectives. Both novels concern their respective protagonists real struggle with adversities, and while How Dare is the story of an immigrant to the U.S., Hillbilly Elegy tells the author's story of growing up in Appalachia, an American local that often feels alien.

Despite being smack-dab in the center of the United States, J.D. Vance and his family struggle with achieving an American Dream recognizable to most. As described by Vance, much of what is "normal" within the context of his community is very different than the America with which the general reader might be familiar outside of exploitive reality television. Alcoholism, abuse and poverty all contribute to the family's problems, and each issue seems ingrained in the way of life depicted. Ultimately, Vance uses his personal hardships, as well as those of his close-knit hillbilly family, as a vehicle for bringing to light the social problems of his hometown. The thing that the author points to as having eventually saved him are the values of his Hillbilly community as embodied by his cantankerous, angry and loving grandmother, referred to throughout by the sobriquet Mamaw.

In many ways there are two books under a single cover: one is the story of Vance's relationship with this key figure in his personal development and the other a social commentary. For my money, the latter which is far more compelling. If much of the text is somewhat detached in its voice despite employing very conversational language, when illustrating his relationship with Mamaw that Hillbilly Elegy comes to life. Mamaw is a beautifully developed "character." Presented as an imperfect maternal figure that continues to push Vance toward some semblance of success, it is clear that both Mamaw and Vance sense that the price for any upward mobility would be their relationship.

Widely available on the shelves of your local public library, I recommend Hillbilly Elegy as an interesting summer read. Vance's story is compelling, especially as part of wider consideration of the kaleidoscopic American experience.

Summer Reading: The Secret History of Wonder Woman

Most of my reading of Wonder Woman in comic books has been limited to the her appearances with either the Justice League or Society titles and the John Byrne run of issues (#101-136) from the mid-1990's. Given that DC Comics recently went through a narrative soft-reboot of their comic book universe, Rebirth, I purhcased the first three issues of Wonder Woman as a means of further broaden the number of cape comics on my monthly pull list.

While I have a stronger background in the hero and her medium than the average New York Times Bestseller's list reader,  I am in no way an expert. Historically, unlike Marvel Comics, DC Comics has not perpetuated the fantasy that every character can be linked back to a single creator (for Marvel, Stan Lee), and DC's lack of a mythic bullpen of recognizable artists and writers can result in a distancing between fanboy, character, and creator. Though not one of it's purposes, The Secret Life of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore helps to fill in a necessary gap: what was the personal and historic context in which an individual created the first popular female superhero?

Lepore does dynamic things in presenting and developing her subject, resulting in a novel that is equal parts biography, history text and comic book analysis. There are oodles of excellent reviews of the novel (including Dwight Garner's "Her Past Unchained" from the New York Times and "The Freaky, Fabulous, Feminist 'Secret History' Of Wonder Woman" by NPR's Etelka Lehoczky) that eloquently capture some excellent observations regarding the book's strengths and weaknesses. In most cases, reviewers, like I, recommend The Secret Life of Wonder Woman as a worthy summer read.

Even when reading for entertainment purposes, it can be difficult not to occasionally put on my "teacher's hat" while reading. Not surprisingly, this was also the case The Secret Life of Wonder Woman. Reflecting on this analytical angle, in addition to a couple of observations, I've clumsily identified potentially relevant New York State Common Core Learning Standards for English Language Arts & Literacy for future exploration:

• The research on display is both deep and incredibly accessible, even to those with (I suspect) little interest in comics books or women's history. Interestingly, one anecdote Lepore shares (that is also echoed in a Wonder Woman story--Lepore gives multiple examples of Wonder Woman creator William Moulton Marston's art reflecting his life) illustrates this point. One of the many lessons Wonder Woman imparts upon men, and boys, is the untapped potential for finding excitement in the study of history... especially women's history (224). The Secret Life of Wonder Woman is a fine example of making history interesting. In its entirety, The Secret Life of Wonder Woman is an excellent illustration of standard 1 of the Reading Standards for Informational text (RI) at Grade 11 in Key Ideas and Details: "Cite the textual evidence that most strongly supports an analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text." Reading about and researching topics of greater interest beyond the standard issues-based subjects, might be nice, and this text provides an example of how it can be done in a manner that is engaging.
• The author objectively presents the lifestyle choices (among them two "wives" and an interest in bondage) made by Wonder Woman creator William Moulton Marston, avoiding the cheap way out by appealing to unnecessary lascivious language. While book reviews for her book seem to emphasize this facet of the story, Lepore highlights these freakier angles on Marston's story in the context of the larger Wonder Woman "origin." The author uses these facts to highlight the reasoning behind some of the creative choices Marston made in developing the character. Lepore's precise use of word choice that is not exploitative woudl be an interesting way to consider standard 4, also in Reading Standards for Informational text (RI) at Grade 11, but in Craft and Structure: #4. "Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used ... specific word choices on meaning and tone, including analogies or allusions to other texts."
• The manner in which Marston's effectively developed and utilized Wonder Woman as his literary voice is explored. It is clear that more than most, writer Marston (and the experiences of he and his family) was Wonder Woman, and that the creator/author had intended to use his character as a vehicle to promote a specific social agenda. A Harvard trained psychologist, and longtime experimenter in social behavior, every aspect of Wonder Woman was crafted through the lens of promoting a specific responses from the reader. When Marston was not the one responsible for writing Wonder Woman her "power" was weakened. There are multiple examples given of how the values and qualities Marston worked to imbue Wonder Woman with are minimized in the hands of other writers. For example, as a member of Justice Society, Wonder Woman is relegated to the role of secretary, not even taken on missions, rather than the social justice warrior Marston envisioned. On multiple levels, this invutes a consideration of writer's craft, or in the language of CCLS RI #6. "Determine an author’s point of view or purpose in a text in which the rhetoric is particularly effective, analyzing how style and content contribute to the power, persuasiveness, or beauty of the text."

As either an entertaining (and informative) summer read or possible class independent read for high schoolers, The Secret Life of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore is a winner.

Summer Reading: The Beautiful Struggle

From front matter of The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates.
Note D&D-esque sword and serpent!

Last week I wandered the stacks at my local Barnes and Noble looking for some more summer reading. I had come to a stalling point with a few of the titles I had begun recently, and sought to jump-start my reading. Seduced by the "Buy 2, Get the 3rd Free" signs and stickers (gets me many times), I picked up three very different titles: one I had long wanted to read (The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore), another my son recommended from his high school English class (Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe), and a final one by an author with whom I recognized as a comic book writer and social commentator but whose "formal" publications, beyond The Atlantic articles, I had yet to fully engage (The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates).

I started with Coates' memoir as it was the one with which I had the least familiarity, and while I could make some assumptions as to the subject matter given the title, beyond its autobiographical bent it was a mystery. Interestingly enough, the memoir's (presumably) original subtitle to The Beautiful Struggle which might have suggested an even more specific purpose is nowhere to be found on this edition of the book (I only came across it online): A Father, Two Sons, and an Unlikely Road to Manhood. I enjoy reading non-fiction about familial relationships between parents and children, naturally more so sons and fathers, and I was quickly drawn into Coates narrative. Beyond its incredibly accessible and sincere language, I was struck by two things which made the reading experience unique: how much Coates and I had in common relative to interests, and how little we have in common given our backgrounds.

The first observation is one that many men who were boys during the period between 1975-1985 can likely relate to: an interest in comic books, Dungeons and Dragons, and other pop-culture of the time. From the onset, Coates' story is infused with nods to his appreciation of childhood fantasy, for example when he admits, despite the conflict around him of being "spaced out as usual, lost in the caves of chaos and the magic of Optimus Prime's vanishing trailer." (4) Like all children who are given the privilege if engaging in such role-play or fantasy building, Coates and I both used these passions (and still do) to ameliorate the anxiety that comes with adolescence. While the memoir focuses on the author's relationship with his father, it is the inclusion of these seemingly ancillary interests as a means of dealing with which I connected. But, the deeper insight is equally engaging.

Coates grew up in Old Baltimore the son of a former Black Panther who felt it was among his purposes to infuse in his children, in particular his sons, with an understanding of Knowledge and Consciousness. We learn that Coates father's vehicle for educating his children was a steady diet of revolutionary practices, from a practice of not celebrating traditionally American holidays such as Christmas to the implementation of a diet that was both healthy and occasionally unique in what it excluded (for a period of time white rice) or included (tofu). Coates recognizes the dual nature of these choices on his own growth: while these made him stronger in the long run, they also made his experience unique from those in his community resulting in a sense of isolation and loneliness. His father's methodology is ultimately validated as it becomes clear that his father was playing the "long game," as both the author and the second son of the book's subtitle both experience what can only be deemed "success" by the final page of the memoir.

A few thoughts came to my teacher-brain as I concluded The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Despite growing up in a metropolitan area, I did not grow up in the culture that Coates, and a number of my students, have. I am white and he is black and this difference, and what it means socially, is key to what Coates' father seeks to impart and empower his children with. As a white teacher is a district with a growing minority component, I struggle with what impact, beyond empathy, I can hope to have on the students of color I teach. If it takes a strong, black man to imbue these understandings with black youth, there is only so far I can take them. Even beyond the advice dispensed by his father, there were others who assisted Coates, such as his high school guidance counselor who "was a black man, Conscious like my father." (199)

Secondly, it is unfortunate that books that tell this perspective (or those of  the black historians and authors reprinted by Coates' father in an effort to raise his community's levels of Knowledge and Conscious) on the black experience are not shared more in public schools. Speaking from only my own experience as a student and teacher, the majority of approved reading selections are fairly limited, consisting of very common classics such as Richard Wright's The Invisible Man (while on approved list is not widely shared with majority of students), the poetry of the Harlem Renaissance and Lorraine Hansberry's A Raisin In the Sun. All great literature, but none that necessarily speak from a modern place of empowerment. (It is no secret why more potentially subversive selections are not included.) As I type this, Coates' books reminds me of the need for what I learned of in an old school Public Enemy line: "mental self-defense as a fitness." Among many issues is the necessity of having fearless educators, both black and white, willing to risk some very difficult conversations, a quality rarely seen at the appropriate levels of authority in suburban schools dealing with a variety of perceived challenges (and stakeholders).

The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates is a very engaging and provocative summer read, that like all good works, suggests more questions than it answers. More and more though, the questions are need of being both asked and responses to them carefully considered. I look forward to passing my dog-eared copy onto to interested colleagues, and recommending it to students as a potential independent read.

Summer Reading: Eat & Run

As much as I enjoy a good western or sci-fi novel, the genre I most enjoy hunkering down with is non-fiction. Especially if the book's topic is one about which I am passionate about, and Eat and Run by Scott Jurek with Steve Friedman, is that and more. Equal parts autobiography, running advice book, diet/nutrition treatise and inspirational story, Eat and Run is a book I have returned to quite bit over the past few months (at one point tweeting out its cover on a bus ride to a high school track meet that met with resounding support from some of my son's collegiate teammates), and with my own return to plodding, found myself once again engaging it early this week with a fervor that found me reading straight through the final 120 pages in three sittings.

As suggested by the book's subtitle, Eat and Run is written as a narrative explaining "My [Jurek's] Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathoning Greatness." Though I am went into it with a knowledge of Jurek's feats and backstory as a result of having read numerous articles and interviews with him in running magazines, he is probably most recognizable to the non-runner as one of the characters in Christopher McDougall's uber-successful Born to Run. Jurek does briefly revisit the events of that novel, while telling of his success in the world of ultramarathoning.

As one who doesn't "believe in secrets"(Eat and Run, 155) when it comes to training, Jurek also imparts on the reader a variety of practical recipes, dietary experiences and insights garnered from his personal experiences as a champion athlete in one of the most grueling ports imaginable. For those who have never run an ultramarathon, Jurek also offers detailed descriptions as to the impact on the body during the course of such a  race in a manner that clearly paints for the reader an image of the pain and glory. "my hypothalamus was pumping antitdiuretic hormones, which told my kidneys to mitigate fluid loss by concentrating my urine. ... without enough water, dehydration would thicken my blood." (97).

At the heart of the novel, and Jurek's story to this point in his life, is his relationships with his father, mother and the sport he continues to love. Two attributes further elevate its potential for enjoyment: the inclusion of accessible vegetarina recipes which the reader is invited to try and the multiple book titles and authors Jurek references as influential that are sprinkled throughout. I found myself frequently dog-earring recipe pages (which, along with basic running advice, conclude each chapter), and starring margins that include potential future reading materiel.

After finishing Eat and Run while waiting to board a flight to visit a high school friend, it was clear why my son's teammates were so enamored with Jurek memoir/handbook: he clearly and sincerely speaks to the nascent mystic-philosopher that lies in most distance runners, even those (like myself) who enjoy the practice of reading and recollecting about races more than competing in them myself. I highly recommend this book to athletes (runner and non-runner alike), as well as those searching for some meaning in their physical activities, and look forward to sharing my copy with others.

'Nuff Read: The Human Nature of Birds

Though summer break from my position as a high school English teacher will not officially begin until June 25, the winding down of classes and hopes for September have me in a Summer Reading kind of mood. Some of my classes recently completed a film analysis activity with the 2003 documentary Winged Migration and as we enjoyed the movie together I was reminded of a book I had once started but never finished.

I've written before about how books sometimes reveal themselves to us more fully when the reader is ready, and it was with this thought in mind that I retrieved a dusty copy of The Human Nature of Birds: A Scientific Discovery with Startling Implications by Theodore Xenophon Barber from my bookshelf. Like a number of books that was once purchased and forgotten among science-fiction, poetry and Westerns, The Human Nature of Birds represented an "outside the box" purchase for when it was made nearly 18 years ago.

Published in 1994 by Penguin, this non-fiction selection represents Barber's sole mainstream publication, with only psychology texts such LSD, Marijuana, Yoga And Hypnosis (2007) also showing up among his credits. A doctor specializing in hypnotic behavior and susceptibility, here Barber turns his skills to analyzing, and ultimately drawing connections between bird behavior in the light of human nature. At its heart is the question of whether or not birds, like humans, are capable of purposeful behavior, or are they simply responding to the world around them reflexively.

An extensive treatise comprised of comparisons between human and avian development, Barber's premise is that birds (whom he repeatedly refers to as his--and our--"closest wild neighbors") are much more similar to humans in their behavior and communication than commonly believed. His argument is supported through the use of some familiar anecdotes illustrating interactions between humans and birds. Even the famed Dr. Irene M. Pepperberg's "genius" parrot, Alex, is named checked in the book a number of times. Fortunately, Barber, a trained behavioral psychologist, uses a vocabulary and terminology to lay out the argument for considering the possibility of species-quality that is accessible to readers (such as myself) with the limited scientific vocabulary.

"The Startling Implications" hinted at in the book's subtitle reach beyond the potential relationships between avians and humans and suggest the necessity for a deeper necessity for the development of this interconnectedness with nature as a whole.  All in all, pretty "heady" stuff, though presented in a manner digestible by bird brains and academicians (and avians, I suppose) alike. A more educated summary can be seen here from Enotes, and (though unrelated to the book), the NOVA clip below both eulogizes the death of one of Pepperberg's most famous parrot prodigies and gets at some of the spirit of avian intelligence researched by Barber.

Teaching Reading & Running Together?

High school Track and Field student-athletes, and the adults who coach them, are fairly set in their ways. This can be seen in their commitment to individualized training groups: sprinters complete drill work with sprinters, jumpers stretch with jumpers, throwers lift with throwers, and distance specialists run distance with one another. Similarly, genre-lovers (especially those who are less adventurous about stepping outside their military biographies, romance novels, or zombie fiction) can subconsciously find themselves pigeon-holing there reading fare.

As both an English teacher and high school coach, I am always on the lookout for selections (technical articles, motivational biographies and commentaries, mostly) to share with my students and athletes. To this point, however, the "great white whale" of Track and Field reading has eluded me. For a number of reasons ranging from the perceived relevancy ("Why would a sprinter read a book about milers?") to interest ("I read in class not at practice!"), my search continues for that book that would be appropriate for those who love to run, jump and throw--especially those who are currently secondary school students. It would be wonderful to find the Track and Field equivalent to Friday Night Lights or The Natural.

The elusive "recommended reading" would be that extended text with a moderate reading level and an explicit appeal to sprinters, distance runners and field event student-athletes, the supposition being: if community reads, such as the NEA's annual Big Read, be used to facilitate a conversation of big ideas at a community, can't the same be done with literacy and sport?

Fortunately, there are a number of books out there that may have some appeal to distance runners, chief among these being Christopher McDougal's Born to Run. I recently began rereading McDougal's book for the fourth time, and as a former (sort of) competitive high school and road race runner, I found the mix of storytelling, social commentary and biography immensely entertaining. More importantly, it was accessible, which is likely what has contributed to its immense success.

Born to Run makes the sport of ultra running, one that can be accepted by any reader who has run races recreationally or competitively in the past an approachable one. Most can appreciate or relate to the idea of running, so the leap from the more traditional distance to hundreds of miles was a believable one. We've all come across crazy athletic types like those mythologized in the book, even if we as recreational athletes have not embraced our sport to the same degree. While a tremendous read, and one I recommend to student-athletes who are intrinsically motivated athletically, as well as academically, it could prove a challenging starting point for the struggling readers who make up the majority of my charges.

The best place to start looking for beginning team reads is likely the most obvious: anthologies. While I completely understand the attraction (short, simple, euphemistic, "inspiring") to certain Chicken Soup-style books, I'd rather have something more... authentic to use. To that end I'll continue this trail by perusing an anthology, Going Long, I bought my own son last year for Christmas, starting with the stories he (himself not a particularly avid recreational reader, but a dedicated high school/collegiate runner) dog eared. The title implies its emphasis on distance running, reflecting the focus of the magazine (Runner's World) from which the stories were culled, I remain hopeful that there may be something accessible to a range of track and field student-athletes with an equally broad range of reading abilities.

Re-Reading Thru Epicurean Phantom Pains

Last Thursday, as class was ending just before lunch, I commented to some of my students idling by the doorway that I was hungry. One student asked if I was going to have pepperoni pizza for lunch (it was "Pizza Day" after all), then quickly corrected himself with an "Oh, that's right, you don't eat meat."  I don't preach nor reveal this to students in some grand display, but occasionally we'll talk food and the subject has come up.

The student followed his comment up with a common question, "Why are you a vegetarian? Why don't you eat meat?" I told him that it was in part due to a book I had read early last summer. "I hope I never read that book," he said as he walked into the hallway to the cafeteria.

Cue time travel noise here, to a "review" I posted last July regarding my recently having read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals...

Jonathan Safran Foer is an author who came to prominence for his fictional works, both of which were made into slightly (Everything is Illuminated) and terribly (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close) inferior films by the same names. His third book, however, was a piece of non-fiction, that, despite being on my bookshelf in hardcover since its release in 2009, I had not quite taken the opportunity to read through its completion. Until this past week.

Simply put, Eating Animals is the synthesis of Foer's personal research, interviews, reflections and thoughts regarding what it means to be a "meat eater." Taking a wide view approach to "meat," Foer considers the production of poultry, seafood, and red meat in his exploration of the personal, environmental and spiritual impacts on a diet that results from such a significant degree of cruelty.

How one "feels" about what Foer has to say is likely (and unfortunately) dependent on what personal biases or Epicurean practices the reader brings to the table. As one who both loves a good conspiracy theory and has a healthy distrust of regulatory commissions, I appreciated the attempt at being objective via efforts to engage all parties in conversation. Of, course, some groups just don't want to talk, especially to an author likely viewed as a "radical" liberal.

Page 43.

I've researched two reviews, one from each end of the spectrum, which taken as a whole offer a fairly complete consideration of the books content. The first is "Flesh of Your Flesh" by Elizabth Kolbert which was previously published in The New Yorker Magazine ,and secondly, The New York Times' Michiko Kakutani's review "You Know that Chicken is Chicken, Right?"

There are enough interesting things going on with the structure and rhetorical strategies to make this book equally valuable for an analysis of its composition. Foer employs some of the same creative structural touches which were seen in Extremely Loud; first person narratives presented in the voice of the interviewees each of whom offers a first person perspective on their role in the "food chain" ("I am a Vegetarian Rancher," pages 205-219) and engaging graphics employed to offer subtle insight into otherwise potentially forgotten statistics (for example, pages 11-121, and 43, to the right). Foer also includes an extensive "Notes" section to lend creditability to his research and interviews ( pages 271-331).

Foer shows some restraint by avoiding the obvious route with works of this nature--presenting pictures from the kill floor or abused animals on their way to being "processed." The author chooses instead to let his words, and those of his interviewees, paint descriptively the horrors seen and personal conflicts faced as members of this cycle of food production.

Personal beliefs notwithstanding, I found Eating Animals to be remarkably accessible. Where some authors use the vocabulary of the industry without recognition of their readers awareness of the meaning, Foer writes as he seems to think--as an outsider seeking to understand.

... and we're back in the present.

Occasionally I struggle with my dietary choice to avoid eating any animal meat (chicken, fish, beef, pork), not because I necessarily miss the taste of the food, but primarily because it is so much easier to each those things. There is also a level of comfort I used to enjoy with burying my frustrations in a dozen chicken wings. But, despite a twinge of Epicurean phantom pains, I stay resolute to my commitment  and continue to ween myself from other animal products, such as dairy creamer and milk.

From time to time I also pick up Foer's book for a little reminder as to why I eat what I do... and don't.

Into the Wilds of Deadpool Killustrated

Deadpool meets Moby Dick in Marvel Comics Deadpool Killustarted #1 written by Cullen Bunn
with art from penciller Matteo Lolli and inker Sean Parsons.

Finally got around to reading the long awaited (by me anyway) first issue of Cullen Bunn's most recent Marvel mini-series, Deadpool Killustrated. One of the few cape comic books with which it is easy to appreciate the complete lack of (and disregard for) the character's larger continuity, the real draw here was the writer, who's fantastic series The Sixth Gun, published monthly by Oni Press, has been a personal favorite since it's start, and the premise made clear in the first issue's cover: "Butchering Stories from Literature's Finest Authors!" The concept of revisiting classic American literary classics such as Moby-Dick and Tom Sawyer through the lens of Marvel Comics "Merc with a Mouth" is an appealing one.

What I had really looked forward to were the literary Easter eggs that I imagined the literate Bunn would include in a world full of such possibilties. What I was pleasantly surprised with was the relevance of some of them to a book I had recently begun sharing with my eleventh grade students.

Tolstoy: not from his short story "Family Happiness", but Anna Karenina,
though the quote seems applicable to both stories... and Into the Wild.

Last week in class we began working with Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild. As part of our study of the novel's composition and structure, I took some time to write some brief author bios to enhance for the student Krakauer's meaningful inclusion of epigrams, excerpts and artifacts at the start of each chapter. With the premise that each was included by the author to add an additional level of meaning to the content which followed, my thinking was that to make the student (who likely had had little previous experience with the "contributors") more familiar with each excerpts "source" (either an author's background or their previously published product) would make their understanding of protagonist Chris McCandless, and to a lesser extent author Krakauer's, story clearer.

Two of these turned up in Deadpool Killusrated: directly,  Melville's Moby-Dick, and more indirectly, Leo Tolstoy's "Family Happiness."

The narrative text of Chapter 3 of Krakauer's Into the Wild is prefaced with a passage highlighted by Chris from Leo Tolstoy's short story. Given the similarities between the theme of "Family Happiness," published in 1859, and the line from Anna Karenina, first published later in installments from 1873-1877, then ultimately as a formal "novel" in 1878, read by Deadpool above it is fair to say there may very well be a connection (albeit of the six degrees sort) between Tolstoy's story and Bunn's use of the pages in Deadpool Killustrated. Okay, that is a reach...

Chapter 5 of Into the Wild is introduced by graffiti found inside the abandoned bus on Stampede Trail where Chris McCandless' body was found, which reads in part "All Hail the Dominant Primordial Beast! And Captain Ahab, too!" (38). In my Teacher Footnotes to students as part of their pre-reading I informed them that "Captain Ahab was the tyrannical captain of the Pequod in Herman Melville's 1851 novel Moby-Dick; he is driven by a monomaniacal desire to kill Moby Dick, the whale that had maimed him off the coast of Japan."

The preview for the second issue of Deadpool Killustarted promises a meeting between the Merc with a Mouth and Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer. Of Course, Twain's The advcnures of Tom sawyer introduced the world to Huckleberry Finn, whose own adventures are also excerpted prior to Chapter 7 of Into the Wild... the mind reels at the possibilities!

Meditation, Prisons & Public Schools?

Last week while listening to a locally produced PBS radio show, WXXI 1370 Connection, there was a segment entitled "School's In Session (Almost); What's Ahead" discussing the challenges of our city's school district. During the last 10 minutes of the program, a caller mentioned a film and strategy for implementation that might offer some relief to troubled segments of the student population. He suggested that host Bob Smith's guest, executive director of the Monroe County School Boards Association Jody Siegle, check out the documentary, The Dhamma Brothers (2009). The caller's suggestion was to consider the film's core idea, the use of non-secular meditation as an antidote top recklessness and violence in a correctional facility, to develop a similar program for use in our troubled public schools.



As the documentary's subtitle ("East Meets West in the Deep South") implies, The Dhamma Brothers is set in the deep south, but not just any part of the South, but in an Alabama penitentiary. The East/West angle comes into play as the documentary follows the efforts of teachers and inmates to exact a degree of personal and cultural change when it becomes the first maximum-security prison in North America to hold an extended Vipassana retreat, an emotionally and physically demanding course of silent meditation lasting ten days.

Focusing on the potential for transformation in the most horrific environment possible, Dhamma Brothers follows and documents the stories of the prison inmates at Donaldson Correction Facility who enter into this arduous and intensive program. The emphasis of the film, as well as the meditative strategy, was reflection on one's actions. If, as has been suggested, meditation is "finding the medicine for the sickness we have created by ourselves," can focused discipline contribute to an individual's rehabilitation?

While it seems a jump, taking an approach used in prisons in elementary and secondary public schools, the idea of teaching youth meditation is not completely new. While Ms. Seigle suggested that some schools in our area currently teach meditation (I could find no evidence online of this), there are programs in other schools that hint at the potential for success.

Among the varied experiences I have had as an educator is teaching (GED, pre-release) programs in a number of different correctional (men's and women's prisons, county jail) facilities. My thoughts regarding the value of introducing meditation techniques to at-risk students, hold true relative to its value for the incarcerated. The terrible anguish, anger and sadness is palpable in these places, and while some might suggest this lot in life is a deserved consequence, there is some validity to mediation's ability to contribute to a sounder, safer persona and prison community.

The online article, "Why Our Children Should Be Taught to Meditate in School" by Richard Schiffman, delineates some reasons why meditation would be beneficial for students to learn. Interestingly, some of the negative behaviors meditation might combat are behaviors that softening school codes are now supporting such as the "...damaging are the habits which they (electronic devices in the classroom) inculcate in the young -- the surfing mentality which is always looking restlessly toward the next image, message or sensation."

Fascinating stuff that is worthy of deeper exploration and consideration. My hope is that some educator with the mojo necessary to research and pilot something like this will do so. While there is much information to process in achieving a firm grasp on the application of meditation to public school curriculum (exactly "how" or "why"), the initial anecdotal evidence (see links below) would seem to suggest that the "why not?" question is worth seeking a response to.

The Dhamma Brothers is available for streaming (or DVD) on Netflix.

Recommended related links:

• Changing Your Brain Through Meditation: ABCNEWS.COM - Dan Harris looks into making yourself a nicer person by re-wiring your brain.
  Mindfulness and Meditation in Schools for Stress Management by Greater Good Magazine
• 9 Reasons Why Meditation Should Be Allowed In Public Schools by The Daily Heal online magazine
• Zen for High Schoolers: ‘Notice the Anxiety. Notice the Fear.’ by Aidan Gardiner
• N.Y. EDN. LAW § 3029-a : NY Code - Section 3029-A: Silent meditation in public schools