Summer Re-Reading: American Monsters

A few summers ago, my interest in cryptozoology was rekindled. Initially nurtured in my childhood by a steady diet of my parents’ copies of World News and the National Enquirer, this interest has re-emerged thanks in part to a new interest in folklore as well as listening to a number of excellent crytpid and folklore related podcasts and reality television shows. Once a niche filed of ineterst, well-written and academic reading about such creatures as the Mothman, Bigfoot and others has also  become much more readily available. Though there was magic in the halcyon days of Bat Boy, the writing has also become more polished, professional and consistently entertaining.

Due to the clean writing style and accessible nature of her writing, Linda S. Godfrey has quickly found her way to my nightstand as one of my go-to cryptid informer and literary palette cleansers. “One of America’s foremost experts on mystery creatures”, Godfrey’s books take a journalistic approach to retelling anecdotes and presenting histories of a variety of “monsters”, both familiar and unfamiliar. American Monsters: A History of Monster Lore, Legends, and Sightings in America spans an extensive timeline of experiences, often relayed through first-hand accounts of a multitude of incidents with mysterious creatures. While re-reading sections this summer, I was also pleased to see the number of secondary sources from smaller publishes she references, in particular, those dealing with local or regional folklore.

"Wendigo" illustration, page 254.

The encyclopedic text is divided into three parts, Air, Sea and Land, and further organized into chapters. Each chapter is then broken into small accounts of related creatures ranging in length from one to four pages. The anecdotes also include reference to numerous sources, information from which is used so effectively I found myself keeping a small "to read" list of these small press publications. This org -group. The book opens, for example, with “Part One: Monsters by Air”, beginning with “Chapter 1. Feathered Fiends” before moving into tales of Bigclaw, the Micmac Culloo and other historical Big Birds. In a language that is conversational and a tone that is suggests a suspension of disbelief, the writer comes across as neither pandering nor naive. Godfrey clearly lays out the experiences of  individuals in a manner that evokes each the eerie mood of each encounter and evokes the historical and cultural context from which each emerged.

One of the book’s chief accomplishments, beyond being wildly entertaining, is taking advantage of opportunities to add additional layers of insight to those topics readers might incorrectly presume they have heard everything about. The expert here is clearly Godfrey and she’s come equipped with multiple approaches to each subject. An excellent example of this is the section entitled “Challenge of Chupacabres.” Having seen the X-Files episode as well as one or two short videos on YouTube, it might be easy to assume one has all the relevant information necessary to make a personal call on the existence of this “hell monkey”.  While not offering a definitive answer on the existence of chupacabres, Godfrey does provide some examples of encounters and sightings with ancillary creatures that may be related to the Chupacabra phenomenon. Throughout the text, Godfrey also provides samples of photographic evidence and illustrations that range from the evidentiary to the ornamental. (As an aside, that evidence which is referenced throughout, but not included here, is readily available via a quick online search.)

American Monsters is a very entertaining and informative summer reading selection which continues to foster a personal interest in unusual creatures and the zeitgeist from which they sprang. In so many ways, each story is telling a small piece of the American story, which I continue to find fascinating. My guess is that if you take the chance to pick-up this unique tome, you will find the same.

*Originally posted 7/23/18, Revised 7/16/2020

Spring Break Reading: The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane**

Prior to saying goodbye to my eleventh graders before our ten day Spring Beak, I suggested that they find a book or two to read during our time apart. Though more than a few groaned, a few asked for suggestions to which I replied a number of titles from high school cannon, such as I know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, and even a classic from middle school that most had not, surprisingly,  even heard of, The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. At this point a couple of students began reminiscing about titles they had (shock of shocks) enjoyed reading that I had not heard of. One young lady mentioned her affection for a book read in middle school entitled The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. As she began describing the book as being about a "rabbit doll that gets lost," I scribbled the title in my notebook for future reference. Maybe it was the promise of a rabbit protagonist or the recollection of my own prior devouring of the wonderful The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe, also about rabbits.  These factors along with the student's passion for a book read years ago moved it to the front of my spring break reading list.

Right to the top of the pile.

A longtime high school teacher, I have often searched for "lighter" fiction for sharing with students, and as a reader I, too, struggle with finding meaningful books with slightly less angst. I continue wishing for lighter literary entres to consume. Given both these factors, in addition to considering myself a reasonably "well read" person, I am embarrassed to share that I had not heard of writer, and Newbery medalist, Kate DiCamillo previously. If The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane is any indication, I have been missing out by having not picked up any her many titles before. My student was telling the truth, and showing a pretty good memory in giving me a short synopsis; the book is indeed about a somewhat snooty, China rabbit (not a "doll" as he reminds us at every turn, though something he'll need to come to terms with) who goes missing. During a decades long journey, Edward comes to learn the value of loving and being loved.

This 211 page book is a joy, and like most good books, defies being placed into a box. I found this book in the children's area of my local bookstore, and after reading am going to share it with my mother who, like I, is beyond the publisher's target audience. Edward's travels take him through multiple relationships and a variety of lifetimes, but never loses a sense of the timeless. DiCamillo's narrative is further enhanced through the inclusion of illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline. Beautifully rendered in black and white, Ibatoulline's illustrations avoid anchoring the story and character in a specific time period, and do nothing to mitigate the reader's ability to imagine the events as taking place right now. Perhaps it was my nostalgia but I found the drawing reminiscent of Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit art (my son's nursery had a border of the characters).

As a middle-aged high school teacher, I was impressed by DiCamillo's willingness to avoid writing down to her audience. There are heavy questions posed and big themes explored throughout, such as love, death, regret a nd patience. Lines such as "How does a China rabbit die?" (page 47), seem perfectly at home in DiCamillo's world of China rabbits and hobos. Vocabulary such as "ennui" (page 3), "discerning" (65) and "contrarian" (194), suggest an excellent opportunity for readers of all ages to add valuable words to their working vocabulary.

I am grateful for the quick conversation with one of my student's for leading me to this beautiful book. I strongly recommend The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline to readers of all ages looking for a powerful complex read disguised as a children's book about a China rabbit!

**Originally posted March 13, 2018

Summer Reading: Silver in the Wood

Continuing a summer time exploration of contemporary folk literature, I recently picked up Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh. A slight 105-page volume, Silver in the Wood is a revisualization of the Green Man motif packed with vivid imagery of ancient forests filled with mythical creatures and love found then lost. Set in the “primeval forest” (35) of Greenhollow Wood, our story starts when Tobias Finch, the Green Man mystically tethered to the forest, offers shelter from a rain storm to a handsome, affluent young man, Henry Silver. Henry is an inquisitive young man who is the lord of a nearby village who fancies himself a “practical folklorist,” and as such, his interest in Tobias is immediate.

One need come to the text with zero background regarding the Green Man. I read Silver in the Wood simply as a folk tale and found it to be a brisk, very engaging experience. Many of the archetypes one would expect to come across in a traditional folktale are present (mother, woodsman, etc.), but with a slight twist. Advance online reading also revealed to me that Tesh's piece is also considered a representative of LGBTQ literature, I would presume based upon the clear attraction between the two male leads.

The inherent loneliness experienced by both main characters (one isolated by wealth and the other by purpose) serves as the basis of their attraction. Of such circumstances, romance often blooms. The love Henry and Tobias share feels pure, and very complicated, a state of affairs that also rings true in many relationships, romantic and otherwise. Surprisingly, despite its brief page count, the relationship between the two main characters seems earned due to the slow dance they must go through toward one another without their combined trials growing toward a traditional happy ending.

From the onset, we learn that Tobias, as the Green Man, has become accustomed to living a solitary life, so much so that he “could not even recognize a handsome lad suggesting a bit of mutual entertainment anymore” (14). Eventually, Tobias warms up to Henry’s flirtations eventually recognizing his good fortune in “be[ing] flirted with by a pretty young fellow who wore expensive coats.” (30) The romance in Silver in the Wood is subtle and very psychological (spiritual?), which, for this reader, heightened the level of intimacy shared by them. Tesh vividly describes certain character interactions in such a manner as to infer a physical attraction between the two. Like good literature should, Tesh's fairly uncomplicated narrative offers a number of different lenses or experiences in which to engage and enjoy the text.

I quickly devoured the text for purely entertainment purposes (the best reason to read!), though as certain elements and characterization came into view I had to resist the urge to begin annotating and analyzing. I look forward to recommending and sharing Silver in the Wood with others.

Never Give Up (On a Book)

I have many shelves, boxes and piles of books, magazines, and comic books throughout our home. Cumulatively, they comprise a massive "Read List". Most I begin to read upon receipt. Many I begin and read through along with two or three titles simultaneously. A few, I read cover to cover exclusively. Some I even read the first eight pages, fail to be hooked, and set them aside to eventually be plucked from the stacks at a later date. When I do begin the start-stop-start-stop dance with a title, it may go on for weeks or even years before it finally hits me (or I, it) in a way that sticks. These demonstrations of show of patience can provide the most entertaining (and rewarding) reading experiences. It often pays not to quit on a story.

Take Borne by Jeff VanderMeer for instance. After devouring his Southern Reach Trilogy in a two week binge in August 2017, I looked for another helping of VanderMeer's mix of ecology, sci-fi and thoughtful character development. Which brought me to Borne, a post-apocalyptic survival tale set in a futuristic landscape ruled by a gigantic flying bear. On a number of different occasions over the past year-and-a-half I have taken a series go at Borne. Each attempt ended in my failure to allow myself to be drawn into the narrative strongly enough to commit to it's story ahead of other books on my to-read table. Eventually, however, the student was made ready, and as foretold in countless episodes of Kung-Fu, the teacher, or in the case, novel, appeared.

A week ago, in the wake three months of folklore and comic book reading (reading for pleasure) and classic American literature (for teaching which is also pleasurable), I had a hankering for a sci-fi palette cleanser. Wandering the stacks at my local public library, I once again came found Borne waiting for me. This time I was ready and could not put it down. Turns out, Borne is that breezy, emotional follow-up to the Southern Reach Trilogy I had hoped it would be. Even if it took me a while to see (and read) it. In the afterglow of having digested a well-written story, I am especially glad that I hadn't given up on Borne. That is not to suggest I am yet ready to tackle James George Frazer's The Golden Bough, a tome that's been pecked at and thumbed through for going on 12 years...

Read It: Deathless

Each morning for a few weeks, Bertie and I would catch up with Marya Morevna, 

heroine of Catherynne M. Valente's Deathless.

Please note that is not a review in so much as some thoughts about a book. I mention very few of the characters by name, and reveal even less about the plot of Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. It is a novel I highly recommend for those who enjoy action, adventure, romance and folk lore. Yes, it is that bountiful a text...

I am very fortunate to teach a subject, English, in a school district that allows for a degree of leeway when it come to texts covered in class. I am not obligated to teach novels, poems or stories that I myself don't have an appreciation of. Though selections do need to be approved for class instruction, I also enjoy taking suggestions from my students, as well as letting them known what I am currently reading. I even occasionally share things with them for their own enjoyment. As a result, I have begun to seek out titles from genres I like with the thought of finding texts that might also be of interest to my "Young Adult" students. Happily, this has taken my reading in some unusual directions that I might otherwise not have been taken. Recently, while looking for books in the folk horror genre, I came across Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente.

More romance than horror, I have found the reading of Deathless over the last few weeks to be an incredibly satisfying journey and one, now that I have completed it, I look forward to sharing with my students. A beautifully written story of female empowerment using characters from Russian folklore, Deathless is that rare book that begs to have sections of it re-read before moving on. The imagery crafted by Valente is so lush, and the language so delicate and descriptive, that its reading was something to be savored rather than rushed. For much the same reason I don't enjoy binge watching newly discovered television shows, Deathless benefits from taking one's time with it. The introduction of  variety of Russian folk elements both slightly familiar, Koschei and Baba Yaga for example, and unfamiliar, the leshy and domovoi, had me pausing for more history as I read. It was rewarding to meet these new-to-me folk characters who, in the context of Russian folklore, have English literary analogs that aided, along with the text, in visualizing each character. In my imagination, Deathless plays like a mash-up of Howl's Moving Castle, The Hobbit, Wuthering Heights, and a textbook about the Russian Revolution. Not a boring textbook but one that paints a picture that is equal parts light and dark.

Digital image of a domovoi (Russian
 House Spirit) by LMaize, DeviantArt.
DeviantArt, n.d. Web. 10 Feb. 2015.

Whiel reading I could not help but dog-ear pages that held lines which I wished to return to, such as "Marya [the novel's protagonist]  pinned out her childhood like a butterfly" (23) and "... the woodsmoke hung gold and thick and the snow tested the wind with white fingers..." (171). There is so much beauty in Valente's words that even in isolation they connect. As part of the expansive larger narrative which includes magic bird-men, yarn soldiers and automobile horses, Deathless quickly coaxed me into it's world. Carefully following the multitude of characters and ideas seeded early in on come back around with greater significance was as rewarding as it was inviting me to a re-read in the future.

Late in the novel Marya's housemate, Kseniya Yefremovna, recaps our heroine's journey to date while describing a house on Decembrists Street as "a house they painted with all sorts of things from fairy tales, so that it would wonderful and people would bring their children to see it, just as we brought Sofiya today. You can see there a firebird on the door, and Master Grey Wolf on the chimney, and Ivan the Fool scampering over the walls, with Yelena the Bright in his arms, and Baba Yaga running after them brandishing her spoon. And that's a leshy creeping in the garden, and a vila and vodyanoy and a domovoi with a red cap. And there--they"ve put a rusalka near the kitchen window. Kseniya turned to Marya. "And Koschei the Deathless is there , too, near the cellar. …" (265) A guiding question returned to throughout Deathless is "Who is to rule?" As a writer I had not had the previous pleasure to read, it is difficult not to suggest after thoroughly enjoying Deathless, that it might be author Catherynne M. Valente.

Hallow-Reading: Green and Pleasant Land

Over the past few months my personal reading has taken a turn down an unusual rabbit hole resulting in a turn from fantasy and non-fiction to horror short story, "folk horror" in particular. A rainy October morning seems as good a time as nay to blog a touch about my most recent literary diversion.

Though I have long been a reader of Romantic (Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, for example) and cosmic (works of H.P. Lovecraft) horror sub-genres, folk horror is something of a new direction. Folk horror is defined by members of the Goodreads Folk Horror Revival Group as "a subgenre of horror fiction, but its roots go back at least into the 19th century. The horrific element in a folk horror story traditionally arises from a source associated with European pagan folk traditions." Think of the tropes and settings of either the original 1973 The Wicker Man or 2018's Hereditary movies (among numerous others), and you are on the right--or very wrong--track.

As with most literary genres, there is quite a bit of room for interpretation when it comes to considering what exactly meets the necessary folk nature of a text thought to meet the criteria. For example, a number of popular American folk horror reads reference the local folk lore of familiar spooky states such as Louisiana or Maine, drawing on the regional rather than the European. For my first venture into the genre, however, I went native and read Great British Horror 1: Green and Pleasant Land, a collection of modern short stories published in 2016 by Black Shuck Books and edited by Steve J. Shaw. As it announces on the back cover, the collection features "eleven previously unpublished stories of small town, rural and folk horror."

In addition to being an excellent primer for the genre, Green and Pleasant Land offers some  downright creepy reading, perfect for autumnal evenings. While I had not read any of the authors' previously, I was fascinated by their combined ability to draw me into their distinctive mythologies which remained grounded in a very discernable modern, real world context. Two personal favorites include:

• "The Castellmarch Man" by Ray Cluley. With nods to modern elements of geo-caching and stay-cation culture this standout introduces the reader to a couple, Charlie and Lyndsey, who learn "getting romantic" in unfamiliar stables might have unintended consequences. Throughout the story, Cluley intermingles touristy information about British landscape and lore which offers possible backstory to the journey our characters are on, as well as the origin of their antagonist. I've returned to this story twice and it's eerie tone, complex characters and the ancient dread in builds to still resonate. An excellent mix of the modern and archaic and therefore a strong entry in British folk horror.
• "Strange As Angels" by Laura Mauro. "It's a delicate little mannequin, tiny limbs curled and foetal, skin bloodless and rice paper thin." (54) And so begins the story of a broken couple who crash into a creature they refer to as an angel. As their relationship crumbles, Frankie grows closer to the creature they've adopted, while Jimmie begins to see it the angel as a competitor for his affection. While the initial encounter with the angel takes place in a natural setting ("dark and foreboding woods"), the story quickly moves to the modern confines of Frankie's apartment. A fascinating look at a fractured relationship that decays as quickly as the "angel" grows.

The other nine stories are also of high quality, each with a different approach tp transplanting the mythic or imaginative into the modern world. Small touches such as clearly British settings and nuances of spelling ("foetal", "arsehole", "programme") and grammar are the sole indicators of being British as the universal relationships reverberate throughout the collection. The collection is not necessarily for the very young reader due to the occasional expletives and mature content (none of which is gratuitous). Green and Pleasant Land has me looking very forward the next offering of Great British Horror, which should be arriving by mail soon.

Building a Running/Jumping/Throwing Reader

Despite having coached middle and high school sports for nearly ten years, or 20+ seasons, prior to each season I still habitually purchase a variety of texts related to the sport. While some are drill-based manuals, others are fiction and nonfiction narratives set in the world of track and field. Among running readers, or reading runners, there are some clear classics such as Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr., or even Running with Buffaloes by Chris Lear. The overwhelming majority of these are bout distance running or endurance racing. There are also some obvious sport-based magazines that include relevant human-interest or historical essays, for example Runner's World, and others, like Outside, that regularly feature well-written pieces that touch on aspects of what could be called "the track and field lifestyle."

In my primary professional role as a high school English Language Arts teacher, I relish the days when I come across books, chapters, articles or paragraphs that I sense might resonate with the student-athletes I coach--often because they do so with me. Getting high school student-athletes to actually read and reflect on such selections is not easy as not all athletes, or high-schoolers for that matter, are readers-for-pleasure. Just as in English class, motivating students to engage text is frequently a matter of trying to fit a square peg into a triangular hole. At the beginning, I did what my coaching-mentor modeled for me: attach 1-3 page articles with titles such as "You Are What You Think You Are" to weekly team updates of information and training tips. After doing so, he and I might refer to the concepts or ideas with individual students-athletes as the teachable moment presented itself. Most times there would be minimal practical impact on the team dynamic as a whole since the articles and the messages inherent in each would be lost to the sands of time.

BEWARE: Typos above!

Last week, in the two days of practice leading up to our school's ten day Spring Break, I tried something more ambitious. I assigned "homework" for the members of the Girls Track and Field team. Yes, homework that did not include self-directed fartleks or core workouts (though those would be great, too). In addition to "enjoying family time," I wanted them to read. For this reading, I selected a personally annotated 10 page chapter entitled "Probing Commitment" from the tremendous book Dirty Inspirations: Lessons from the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider. I first read Dirty Inspirations nearly two years ago and have waited for the right opportunity to try to use it with a team. With a relatively new squad of girls, and a solid group of returning trackletes, this year seemed the right time to go for it. With a few days prior to break, I assured that everyone on the roster had a copy and articulated the task on the weekly update posted above.

Teaching experience reminds me that simply assigning and hoping text will be read because "it is the right thing to do" is likely to lead to only the few most dedicated girls actually doing so. During our last pre-break team meeting, I let them know there would also be a test of the concepts such as "leaving your ego at the starting line gives your team its best shot" (page 61) at our next full practice upon returning from break. I also reiterated verbally that which I had written in the assignment: "If you ARE part of the TEAM and the coach asks you to READ a selection, how do YOU demonstrate your commitment?" I am confident that this current collection of jumpers, throwers and runners are up to the task of reading and learning, and ultimately acting on something new...

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...

Organizing Titles: Sci-fi Books

After multiple moves and seasonal cleaning flings, what remains of my book collection are those with either a high level of re-readability or a personal connection. While some were gifts (my son bought me 10 Billion Days and 100 Billion Nights nearly six Christmases ago), others are titles acquired at different stages in my life (the original Dune series were given to me in a paper bag rescued by a co-worker cleaning her garage--and quickly devoured--during my divorce 17 years ago). It's not just the memories of each book's content, but the nostalgia provided via the tome's acquisition. It's true that even after being read and shelved and re-read, some titles continue to grow.

Remnants of fancies past still present themselves in the forms of duplicate copies of the same title by different publishers. Though this phenomena is occasionally the result of my repurchasing a title because I forget that I had it, or had lent it out when I really needed to read it, most are the product of collecting. Back when used book stores were more plentiful, I would come across editions with interesting covers or alternate forwards and pick them up for a dollar or two. The older I have grown, the less likely I am to do this, though multiple copies of Stranger in a Strange Land reveal that my forgetfulness is still a factor.

Not surprisingly, going back through titles also elicits a few pangs of regret. For example, at one point I had the complete Riverworld series by Philip Jose Farmer, where now only the first, To Your Scattered Bodies Go, remains. Fortunately, lost or misplaced titles are quickly replaced by new once as my affection for Science-Fiction as a literary genre only continues to grow...

Bookshelf Titles

• Asimov, Isaac. Foundation.
• Barlowe, Wayne. Barlowe’s Guide to Extraterrestrials.
• Bradbury, Ray. The Illustrated Man.
• Bradbury, Ray. The Martian Chronicles. 
• Burroughs, Edgar Rice. A Princess of Mars.
• Clarke, Arthur C. Childhood’s End.
• Clarke, Arthur C. Rendezvous with Rama.
• Dick, Philip K. Blade Runner (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?).
• Dick, Philip K. Ubik.
• Dick, Philip K. Valis.
• Eisler, Steven. Space Wars: Worlds and Weapons.
• Farmer, Philip Jose. To Your Scattered Bodies Go.
• Heinlein, Robert A. Stranger in a Strange Land. x2
• Herbert, Brian. Dreamer of Dune (Frank Herbert Biography).
• Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. Dune: House Atreides.
• Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. Dune: House Harkonnen.
• Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. Dune: House Corrino.
• Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. Dune: The Butlerian Jihad.
• Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. Dune: The Machine Crusade.
• Herbert, Frank, Herbert, Brian and Anderson, Kevin J. The Road to Dune.
• Herbert, Frank, Herbert, Brian (Editor). The Notebooks of Frank Herbert’s Dune.
• Herbert, Frank. The Book of Frank Herbert.
• Herbert, Frank. Dune. x3
• Herbert, Frank. Dune Messiah. x3 
• Herbert, Frank. Children of Dune. x3
• Herbert, Frank. God Emperor of Dune. x3
• Herbert, Frank. Heretics of Dune. x2
• Herbert, Frank. Chapterhouse: Dune. x2 
• Herbert, Frank. The Worlds of Frank Herbert.
• Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World.
• Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World Revisited.
• Kirkman, Robert and Bonansinga, Jay. The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor.
• Kirkman, Robert and Bonansinga, Jay. The Walking Dead: Road to Woodbury.
• Le Guin, Ursula K. The Lathe of Heaven.
• Lem, Stanislaw. Solaris.
• Miller Jr., Walter M. A Canticle for Leibowitz.
• Moorcock, Michael. The Final Programme.
• Murakami, Haruki. Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World.
• Mitsuse, Ryu. Smith, Alexander O. (Translator) 10 Billion Days and 100 Billion Nights.
• VanderMeer, Jeff. Annihilation (Southern Reach Trilogy Book 1). 
• VanderMeer, Jeff. Authority (Southern Reach Trilogy Book 2).

Summer Reading: Assessment 3.0

Each summer I intentionally mix a little professional reading into my bedside book pile. In many instances, the titles I choose for this purpose are read with the thought of using them to enhance the  range of content for the courses I teach. More and more frequently, however, books are chosen in an effort to improve my teaching craft. Late this spring, a coaching/teaching peer of mine from a neighboring district began chronicling his move toward a "grade-less classroom" on his personal blog.

In an effort to reach out to like-minded educators, he also invited others to dialogue about their own efforts on Twitter. Though I have often thought (and read a little about) the use of anecdotal evidence and conferencing in place of traditional numbers as a means of assessing and motivating student learning, the excuses I could (and continue to) tell myself far superseded my will. I also was unclear as to what primary text could best articulate a practical approach.

Assessment 3.0 by Mark Barnes was the book he suggested I start with.

As the subtitle Throw Out Your Grade Book and Inspire Learning suggests, this is a book of interest primarily to educators. I read this as a means of personal professional development over the summer at the suggestion of a colleague. Short (124 pages including appendices), Barnes’ book is written in very accessible language for teachers of all experience levels. The author uses examples from a variety of educational levels as a means of validating his assertion that using his model of assessment (SE2R) will lead to more independently motivated learners.

The approach employed by Barnes in delivering instruction and feedback can be distilled down to "four simple words," which when combined result in the aforementioned acronym SE2R: Summarize, Explain, Redirect, Resubmit. Assessment 3.0 guides the reader though numerous situations across multiple disciplines and grade levels using this technique to promote the creation of an ongoing, objective conversation about learning. The final result, if properly facilitated, is mastery learning on the part of the student.

As a widely read piece of educational literature, there are quite a few excellent summaries and thoughtful analysis on the validity of Assessment 3.0, much of it written by teachers implementing it. Though I am currently just researching and evaluating the potential, I did have two thoughts:

• The greatest challenge to change is time, and Barnes addresses that concern head on, by acknowledging and asserting that "Yes, You Have Time For Feedback" (64), and furthermore, offering some suggestions as to how to meed the added expectation of responding in "more than simply written descriptors of work." (61) The central point of his concept is that the work, whether by student or teacher, should be meaningful and that this targeted conversation is a way to make it so.
• While a well-intentioned (if traditional) educator, I continue to operate under a number of the misconceptions (preconceptions?) regarding effective student assessment and learning that Barnes' work seek to counteract. This doesn't make me "bad," or even ineffective, but it does shed light on the truth that there are areas for improvement. Throughout Assessment 3.0, Barnes cautions against an all-or-nothing mindset, suggesting the practical, intellectual and cultural transition necessary for the shift to an SE2R-centric approach. I am excited to follow the implementation of my colleague at another school district, but the extensive leg work and culture building with administration and colleagues he has taken on prior to doing so reminds me that I am still only cherry-picking.

Ultimately, good books, like good teaching, provoke more questions (the result being the dialogue key) than answers. As an introduction to grade-less (number-less) teaching Assessment 3.0 makes a compelling argument for more research on the subject by interested educators such as your's truly.

Summer Reading: Lovecraft's Monsters

Recently I shared with an old friend my struggle finding Lovecraft-inspired material not written by the author himself. For every "Worms of the Earth" by Robert E. Howard there are a myriad of lesser attempts at aping H.P. Lovecraft's unique vision.

Given the wealth of Cthulhu mythos "fan-fic" available, the challenge is not in finding content, but rather in discovering stories that entertain without proving too derivative. A few days after this conversation, I returned to a Lovecraft anthology I had purchased many months earlier that had been repeatedly relegated to my "to be read" pile after only two of the stories had been read. Fortunately, this proved to be a mistake on my part. With a long car/train ride ahead of me, I once again picked up Lovecraft's Monsters and after enjoying the next two stories I turned to and was heartened by what I read.

The secret of quality Lovecraft inspired stories, to my personal tastes at any rate, is demonstrated by the majority of stories in this collection, edited by Hugo and Bram Stoker Award-winning editor Ellen Datlow. The challenge met by many of the pieces selected by Datlow is transferring elements of Lovecraft's work, such as mood and subtle characterization, into a setting or circumstance that, while clearly influenced by the source, extends those ideas into a new direction including culture, setting and time period. The organization of the text as a whole, including the front (Foreword by Stefan Dziemianowicz) and  back matter ("Monster Index"), contributes to a high quality presentation of the stories, even if a few fall flat for this reader.  

Each story is preceded by a single panel image that foreshadows a key event in the story to follow. While not always the case, many of the images are of the monsters encountered in the story to follow. When this is not the case,  the aforementioned "Monster Index" by Rachel Fagundes fills in the gaps by including both narrative and visual sketches of key Lovecraftian monsters that appear throughout. A  handy cross-referencing of

John Coulthart provides evocative
and creepy illustrations such
as this one that precedes "Red 
Goat Black Goat.

monsters with the stories in the anthology allows for the reader to choose those stories that feature favorites first. As an effective collection probably should, Lovecraft's Monsters is both a fine collection of ancillary stories by writers others than Lovecraft as well as a good introduction to the world of the author. When a recognizable monster, such as The King in Yellow or Azathoth, included in the back of the collections

Some stories such as "Only the End of the World Again" by Neil Gaiman and "Black As the Pit, From Pole to Pole" by the duo of Howard Waldrop and Steve Utley take a monster mash-up approach by pairing Lovecraftian creatures with more familiar ones (the Wolf Man and Frankenstein's Monster respectively). While entertaining and clever to this fan of Lawrence Talbot and the traditional horror icons, it is the more straightforward "new" tales that kept me reading. In each case, the author chooses to mix another literary genre with a dash of Lovecraft to effectively deliver compelling new takes on familiar creature. Standouts include:

• "Bulldozer" by Laird Barron, pages 33-62. Set in the Old West, this is the story of a "Pinkerton man" on a "hunting expedition to the West." (48) As a bulldozer, a colloquialism for an investigator/security, our protagonist Jonah Koenig is on the trail of a criminal. This is not just any ordinary bad guy, however, but an individual who very clearly has taken part in rituals and dark magic related to Belphagor, one of the seven princes of Hell. Employing a contemporary narrative structure to the story (translation: unusual chronology of plot points), Barron ratchets up the tension and drama. As a fan of the neo-Western, I found this one very engaging. 
• "That of Which We Speak When We Speak of the Unspeakable" by Nick Mamatas, pages 303-312. Mamatas' vignette is a snapshot of a trio of revelers awaiting the end of the world, beginning of a return of the old Gods, depending on how you look at it. The characters reflect this dual anticipation in that one welcomes them, acting as a self-appointed prophet, while others fear for what is to come. The contemporary setting and familiar perspectives on the nature love in modern society help to make this a particular relatable story. While some of the stories in the anthology only suggest Lovecraft's creatures (for example "Bulldozer"),"That of Which" explicitly namedrops the shoggoths who arrive to welcome the new day (night). 

Other standouts include "Red Goat Black Goat" by Nadia Bulkin (65-76) and "The Same Deep Waters As You" by Brian Hodge (79-115). Whether a Lovecraft enthusiast or seeking an introduction to his rich world of dark magic and monsters, Lovecraft's Monsters, edited by Ellen Datlow and published Tachyon is an beach read... especially at dusk.

Summer Reading: Walkabout

They came to the humble bushes first, the twitching, quivering leaves

tumbling to the sand as they approached. Then came the straw-like mellowbane,

and growing amongst them grass of a very different kind--sturdy reed-thick

grass, each blade tipped with a black, bean-shaped nodule: rustling death rattle, astir

in the sunset wind. (Walkabout, page 56.)

Nearly eleven years ago now, I made the move from teaching eighth grade in the middle school down (physically to a lower floor) to the high school. Currently, I teach five sections of eleventh grade English, and having concluded all of my assigned summer reading books, am on to other reading. Last week I once again came across a title I'd salvaged from the school's discard pile many moons ago, Walkabout (1959) by James Vance Marshall. My recovered copy is in near pristine condition, having not (if ever) been read by students, it's internal coding (86-1) revealing that the school acquired the book in 1986.

My familiarity with the novel comes from prior numerous viewings of the 1971 film adaptation by the same name directed by Nicolas Roeg that it eventually spawned. The movie version of Walkabout has since become a personal favorite that I enjoy watching annually. Given the film's mature subtext, subtle nudity, and themes, I was very surprised to find it in a middle school book room. With the political climate in some schools, I would be surprised to find it in the stacks of more conservative high school libraries, let alone on some approved reading list

Marshall's Walkabout is much more of a traditional young adult survival novel than the film, though a number of the coming-of-age themes explored with greater depth in the film are present. The basic plot elements are the same: two children get lost in the Australian Outback and are helped by an Aborigine on his walkabout. The specifics, such as how the two find themselves in that predicament, as well as their nationalities, among other things, however, result in two very different narrative experiences. Just a few are considered in the quick table below:

The brief excerpt at the top of this post is illustrative of Marshall's vivid and poetic descriptions of the Australian outback; a necessity when the setting is itself a significant character. Though a survival story, the environment is presented less as overtly hostile and more as an aggressively nurturing co-facilitator of experience. Even once they are joined by the "bush boy," Peter and Mary embrace the beauty of their prison even as they search for a way home. The direction Walkabout's plot takes also marks it as an unusual reading choice for middle-schoolers. Unlike other adventure survival reads, The Cay by Theodore Taylor comes to mind, Marshall offers little clear resolution to the subtle internal turmoil between Mary and the boy; no satisfying bridge is built across the cultural divide. As an adult reader, however, one is likely more well-equipped by experience to see some connections being drawn.

The novel Walkabout by James Vance Marshall is a breezy read at a tightly written 158 pages. A descriptive writing style and carefully researched cultural information about the fascinating Aboriginal people make this an easy novel to recommend. I also highly recommend Nicolas Roeg's 1971 film of the same name for a very different, and decidedly more mature, exploration of some themes only touched upon in the book.

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.

"Official" Summer Reading: How Dare the Sun Rise

Synopsis from Greece Athena Library school handout for one
summer reading option.

Our school's summer reading program (as part of a district wide expectation) is mixing things up with this year's assignment. Last summer we offered ice cream treats as the carrot for reading a single text during the summer months (a half-sheet with basic information needed to be submitted as evidence), and this year's final product will be participating in a book talk regarding the text read using notes kept on a more extensive work sheet depending on whether the text is fiction or non-fiction. Numerous staff members have also elected to read the same title will also be completing the task and participating in the conversation.

I signed up to read the recently published How Dare the Sun Rise by Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta. The synopsis shared with students (above) prompted quite a bit of interest on the part of my current eleventh graders as well as my teaching colleagues. With my task clear, I picked up a copy from the local Barnes and Noble and very quickly made my way through it. (A quick check of the local library online card catalog informs that there are 38 copies within their system, too.)

How Dare the Sun Rise is an incredibly engaging and honest autobiography of Congolese refugee Sandra Uwiringiyimana and her family finding their way from a satisfying existence in Africa though a series of hellish events (thus the subtitle Memoirs of a War Child) until finding a purpose and sense of acceptance in the United States. A traditionally structured autobiography, it is the conversational tone and the manner in which Uwiringiyimana uses the differences between the two cultures to shed light on the strengths and weakness of our American culture that elevates the text. The journey Uwiringiyimana and her family take is powerful. Despite having read and taught numerous immigrant experience works ranging from Upton Sinclair's muckraking classic The Jungle to Francisco Jimenez's short story "The Circuit," How Dare the Sun Rise presents a compelling voice that is underrepresented among the genre. The first person perspective of the Congolese refugee experience is fresh and informative. While I have taught students in my classes who have themselves shared a similar set of circumstances, the trauma likely experienced precluded too much sharing. As many good reads do, however, it raises more questions as it answers others...

As interesting as Uwiringiyimana's odyssey to (and through) the United States is, I really found myself drawn into the unique perspective of the author's veiled social commentary on facets of American culture that most are frequently not meaningfully discussed in many classrooms.  Issues such as obesity, modern segregation in the American public education system, as well as subtle racism within the larger American black community are woven into her story. A clear emphasis on the significant power of education is key to the author's story. That this belief is ingrained in her by a feminist father (the author's words), who himself was a product of patriarchy, is in stark contrast to the apathy illustrated by some American students observed by Uwiringiyimana as a public school student here in America. Consistent with her articulated goal in sharing her story, the author clearly hopes to spark conversation among young people regarding these issues and others.

I look forward to discussing How Dare the Sun Rise by Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta upon returning to class in September. My hope is that even those students and staff who had not previously signed up to read this title will do so in addition to the others: Highly recommended.

Read It: The Lone Ranger Rides North (1946)

This edition includes the erroneous character creator credit of the Lone Ranger 

to radio station manager George Trendle. Some of the basic ideas were his,

but were fleshed out to great success by Fran Striker.

Recently, I spent nearly six hours in a hospital waiting room as my mother underwent back surgery. With all the class papers graded, I turned to the pile of books I have been periodically reading on-and-off for (what turns out to be) a ve-e-e-ry long time. One book in particular provided an opportunity to escape the waiting room and travel back to those thrilling days of yesteryear...

This volume is easy to find online

at a very affordable price, though I

went to Berkeley, CA, to get mine.

Three summers ago, while visiting my best friend in California, we found ourselves in an independent used bookstore in Berkeley. There I came across an old volume entitled The Lone Ranger Rides North written by Fran Striker. Despite being a Western New Yorker myself, I had little prior understanding that Striker was not only from nearby Buffalo, New York, but was also the creator of both the Lone Ranger and the Green Hornet. Given the volume's slight price, and as a fan of both the character's classic Clayton Moore iteration (the one I, like most, are best acquainted with) as well as it's modern Dynamite comicbooks' version, it was a purchase that could not be resisted.

Published in 1946, The Lone Ranger Rides North is comprised of thirty chapters in which are developed three storylines, which when combined, read very much like one of the Clayton Moore's 169 episodes (or the 52 made with replacement Ranger John Hart). It is easy to envision these stories as some that were ultimately serialized for either radio or television. Present in the story are the familiar plot points of traditional Hollywood cowboy heroics: slick, smooth talking criminals, kind-hearted regular folk put in danger and in need of rescue, and our masked hero needing to clear his own name from the nefarious deeds committed by another.

The interesting reveal in this novel for fans is the introduction of a young boy named Danny who idolizes and feels a connection to the Lone Ranger. Long time Lone Ranger fans will recall that "Danny" is actually Dan Reid, the Ranger's long lost nephew whom he believed dead. In modern Ranger stories, including the recent box-office failure Gore Verbinski's The Lone Ranger (2013), Danny is such an integral part of our hero's origin that the reader likely connects the dots earlier than the novel's original audience. This Lone Ranger is much more mysterious here with only the most common characterization traits, including his faithful companion Tonto and their trusty steeds, in tact. Freed of the contemporary necessity for explanation of every single, minute facet of a character's background, the hero of The Lone Ranger Rides North draws much of his strength from his mysterious background. Here, he is a force of good who does not need the humanizing relationship of extended family to elicit the support of the reader.

Given Striker's professional training as a radio theater writer, the storytelling approach is dialogue heavy with most exposition taking place at the beginning of each chapter. Our narrator is so extremely third person omniscient that he frequently (and with language bordering on melo-drama) takes the reader into each character's head to reveal feelings that might otherwise be reflected in the voices of actors delivering the lines. For example, maudlin lines such as the one below saying of Danny that "there were tears in his eyes--tears of pride and gratitude" would be cringe worthy if not for the proper historical context. In 1946, in a story about the heroic Lone Ranger, this time of syrupy language seems somehow appropriate in a tale of "the resourceful masked rider of the plains."

The Lone Ranger Rides North (1946) by Fran Striker is readily available online for less than $10, a more-than-worthwhile purchase for Ranger and fans of Americana alike.

Summer Reading: Dirty Inspirations

Using a popular structural approach, the tone and message
of each chapter is established with a quote.

In my roles as both a weekend warrior and high school coach, I am always on the lookout for books that can provide motivation to the athlete-in-me, as well as break down challenging sports-psychology concepts for those interested student-athletes with whom I work. Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is that rare collection of essays that is capable of doing both. A champion endurance athlete turned sports psychologist, Schneider draws on her broad array of competitive experiences (ranging from Ironman tri-athlete to Eco-Challenge team member).

A world-class athlete, Schneider has personal experience battling the mental demons that come with endurance sports. Endurance sports, as defined by the Farlax Free Dictionary, are activities performed primarily by an individual "in which key muscles are exercised at submaximal intensity for prolonged periods of time," and within this competitive arena, the author finds multiple anecdotes illustrating a practical psychological approach.

What Schneider's anecdotes and experiences do so effectively is to add meaningful meat to the bones of  tired coaching code such as "Hang in here" and "You can do this if you try." Anyone who has engaged in athletics at any level (from recreational to professional) have heard ad nauseum, further reinforcing the reality that for many coaches (myself included), the real sports psychology employed is limited to motivational phrases. In the spirit of "physician, heal thyself," Schneider shows how her own application of these theories has resulted in both personal competitive successes and failures.

The text is broken into sixteen easily digestible chapters, each illustrating a different psychological training principle through the lens of the author's personal experience. This stricture allows time for the reader to intellectually breathe and reflect upon the insights offered in each chapter. While chapter titles such as "Afraid of Fear" and "Painting Your Authentic Self" have  whiff of self-help pop psychology, given the practical experiences behind each principle, Schneider avoids the potential pitfall of celebrity how-to book. In addition to being an exceptional endurance athlete, Schneider is also an academic who has pursued education in sport psychology. Interestingly, the author often refers to her motivations for pursuing such training as events in her competitive life give rise to the possible need for it. If anything, it is her academic writer's voice that puts this text in the realm of psychology and training literature rather than purely adventure biography. This is not to suggest the words lack passion, but to remind that this really is, I believe, intended to introduce valuable ideas within the exciting context of adventure racing. It is one thing to run a 10k or half-marathon and describe what it is like to work through discomfort, and another thing entirely to address the subject having successfully completed a 100 mile foot race.

Author Terri Schneider.

Two chapters I found of especially meaningfully, given my own current state of affairs were "Probing Commitment" (pages 58-68) and "Finding Comfort in Discomfort" (pages 138-155). Next week, I will be embarking on my sixth (!) season as a high school Varsity Cross-Country coach, in all likelihood with a team comprised of young women with little prior experience at running the 5k distance competitively. Additionally, I very recently participated in a 20k that frankly did not go as planned, and during whcih I sustained an injury, that had me questioning whether to continue or not. In both instances, "professional" and personal, the necessity of commitment, to the individual as well as to those who rely upon them, is significant. Both chapters spoke specifically to questions I had around internal motivation and the necessity of powerful self-talk in persevering.

Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is worthy reading for both the competitor and coach. Unlike similar books which speak to sports psychology in a specific athletic endeavor (basketball coaching books for basketball coaches for example), the anecdotes and information in Schneider's text are readily transferable to any sport, especially as the athletic feats of the author imbue her words with instant credibility. I look forward to sharing parts of this text implicitly through some decisions I make this seasons and explicitly by sharing an excerpt (or two) with the team.

Summer Reading: The Cursed Earth Uncensored

Cover to 2000 A.D. Prog 85 by Mick McMahon.

Despite Judge Dredd having been part of the comic book culture for the entirety of my collecting life, I've never actually read a comic book featuring the post-apocalyptic law enforcer. Like most, my experience with the character has been limited to the two movie adaptations, the inferior 1995 Judge Dredd starring then-action star Sylvester Stallone and the superior Dredd (2015) featuring Karl Urban.

Cover by artist Brian Bolland.

Even after two Hollywood movies, Judge Dredd remains a mystery. He remains a unique figure in comic books because, though first appearing in issue #2 of 2000 AD (1977), it is possible to understand his motivations without the necessity of reader awareness of an origin story. Without the understanding that Kal-El is the lone surviving alien of a dead culture sent to Earth or that Bruce Wayne saw his parents murdered, those individuals could not become the heroes they are destined to become. Not so with Dredd. Knowing how Dredd became a judge is completely unnecessary; all that one really need to know about Judge Dredd's motivations is captured in both his job title and catchphrase: "I am the Law!"

Last week, I came across an online article that motivated me to pick up a recently published hardcover graphic novel collecting one of Dredd's more popular story lines, The Cursed Earth. Not only does this story arc illustrate the key qualities of its lead character, but it also serves as a legendary historical artifact which, in its entirety, has long been out of circulation. As a result. The Cursed Earth Uncensored, published by 200 A.D., offers insight into what was deemed controversial in the late 1970s, a status achieved here not because of violence, explicit language or sexual content, but due to its potential offense to global corporations.

Postergraph by Bolland featuring Dredd
and two key Cursed Earth secondary
characters, Spikes Harvey Rotten and
Tweak.

The stories collected therein are credited to writers Pat Mills, John Wagner and Chris Lowder with art provided by Mick McMahon and Brian Bolland. Bolland also drew the original 2000 A.D.  covers, each of which is included in a gallery along with some pin-ups, here deemed "Postergraphs". As shared in the Bleeding Cool article which prompted my purchase: "Published in 2000 AD in 1978, The Cursed Earth ... ran into trouble when two episodes – ‘Burger Wars’ and ‘Soul Food’ – featured parodies of Burger King, Ronald McDonald, the Jolly Green Giant, the Michelin Man, and a number of other prominent corporate characters in a raucous and shameless satire of American consumer culture. After concerns of legal action at the time the then publisher IPC decided collections of this classic strip would omit the satirical stories." Until now.

Suitably, as a "satire of American consumer culture," the story relies on a timeless American literary trope for structure, the road trip. The narrative context of our hero's journey across the radioactive region of America that separates Mega City One and Mega City Two on the West Coast, the eponymous "Cursed Earth", is Dredd's mission to transport an important vaccine from One to the other. Because the original source of the story, 2000 A.D., is an anthology each of the 25 episodic chapters is only 6-8 pages in length. Only the covers and splash pages are colored, resulting a story visually told in black and white.

Among those joining Dredd on his mission of mercy are criminal punk biker Spikes Harvey Rotten and Judge Jack, who are later joined by Tweak, a seemingly unintelligent rock-eater from another planet with a secret. While Dredd is clearly at the center of the story, these three secondary actors each have individual character arcs. The most dynamic of these are the stories of Spikes Harvey Rotton and Tweak, whose fates become intertwined as the crew makes its way across the Cursed Earth.

From Chapter 11 written by
Pat Mills with art by
Mike McMahon.

On their journey, Dredd and his crew become embroiled in a series of conflicts with a menagerie of characters. Among these are a pack of post-apocalyptic dinosaurs led by the vicious tyrannosaurus named Satanus, murderous robots ("meks") left over from a bygone age programmed to destroy all Judges, and the aforementioned, controversial Burger Gangs, led by Ronald MacDonald and the Burger King. Through each adventure, Dredd remains steadfast in his goal, but is always willing to deviate in the interest of upholding his guiding principle of law and order. By returning to the core of the character, each of the three writers take advantage of the opportunity to further reinforce the humanity behind the helmet as Dredd often course-corrects his comrades desires to simply move one from the problem. Despite his willingness to violently uphold the law, it is clear that Dredd is a good man who seeks to see the law as he sees it equitably distributed to everyone regardless of their status (or state of mutation).

Even more than the controversial chapters that have been returned to their places in this uncensored edition, this character trait that most subtly satirizes the American culture. While the once "lost" battles between Dredd and Colonel Sanders doppelganger Doctor Gribbons, Ronald MacDonald and the Burger King take overt shots at consumerism, the smaller moments better reinforce the point. The value of The Cursed Earth is perhaps clarified on some level through these stories inclusion, but the power of the satire is not necessarily diminished through their priro exclusion.

Judge Dredd, The Cursed Earth Uncensored is a beautiful hardcover collection with a new introduction by two of the original writers and a gallery of covers and Postergraphs. While not inexpensive at $35 U.S., it is certainly worth the price for those interested in banned books, post-apocalyptic science-fiction or satire. As an introduction to the world of Judge Dredd, this collection is a strong, effective primer.

The Power of Re-visiting Text

Wild Strawberries (1957) is not nearly as "artsy-fartsy" or maudlin as this trailer makes it look... honest!

Each school year, despite the best efforts of our department leadership to clearly inform teachers which novels are assigned to be taught at which of the four grade levels (9 thru 12), invariably teachers will high-jack a text for use a different grade level. Whether out of a passion for a particular title or because they don't feel the obligation to research materials for a novel they have not previously worked with, this is an annual conscious choice on the part of some that results in a completely avoidable bone of contention. While this does create problems (beyond the need to find alternative resources, let's face it, the thematic content of some texts really is more accessible and meaningful to older more experienced students), there is also an opportunity created through this lack of etiquette: the potential for revealing for students the power of a re-visiting a text.

A favorite title from my
youth I look forward to
revisiting this summer.

This idea is even more relatable when considered in the context of movies, a fact I was once again reminded of while re-watching one yesterday. The opportunity to re-visit a text (whether traditional hard copy or film presentation) creates a situation that illustrates the difference between simply reading a book and really READING a book. As teachers and adults, we can appreciate finding new information each time we read a story or novel, or after re-watching a movie. High school students, however, often view the reading expedience as a chore which, once completed, is finished with little necessity to revisit it beyond identifying cited textual evidence for responding to an essay prompt.

VHS box for Federico
Fellini's La Strada (1954).

While an undergraduate English major wa-a-ay back in 1988, I took a film study course entitled "Fellini and Bergman." As a product of an urban Western New York public school system, I had zero familiarity with the idea of watching foreign movies other than those produced by Toho Studios and (badly) re-dubbed in English. A large part of the course requirement consisted of independently watching films outside of class. This task required going to the bowels of the campus library and viewing videotapes at a desk with large headphones on. It was there that I also gained a level of comfort reading subtitles--an underappreciated skill I continue to develop to this day. While at my local public library yesterday, I came across a DVD copy of one of the films I had seen in the library basement, Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries (1954), a film I had last seen 26 years ago.

After finishing the movie this second time, many years later, the difference in the experience was clear. Eighteen year-old me dutifully viewed Bergman's meditation on aging and acceptance, coming to some basic conclusions based in great part on my professor's book explaining the movie's themes, structure and story. Yesterday, 47 year-old me experienced with greater depth (and a stronger personal connection) the philosophical themes such as the value of introspection and the transient nature of human existence. I am also fairly certain that 65 year-old me (fingers-crossed!) will draw even more from a future viewing experience.

Stories, poetry and novels are no different; all benefit from the occasional re-visit, especially after time and experience have filled in some cognitive and emotional gaps. A part of me looks forward to the realization that this year's new crop of budding scholars have somehow been fed a novel that I had intended to teach. Rather than cursing the previous ill-advised professional, I will take advantage of the opportunity and challenge of demonstrating the power of revisiting text. Beyond the additional structural and thematic low-hanging fruit ready to be dropped, I am confident a great connection between the student (reader) and content can be facilitated... and the real magic of literature validated!