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

Read it: The Stone Book Quartet

"Oh, the years of Man are the looms of God
Let down from the place of the sun;
Wherein we are weaving always,
Till the mystic work is done!"  ("The Stone Book," page 35)
My ongoing reading journey through a variety of folk traditions recently brought be back around to English writer and folklorist Alan Garner, author of The Owl Service (tremendous!) and The Weirdstone of Brisingham (fun!). After looking for something new to read from Garner I came across a series of four short stories which, when published together, are titled The Stone Book Quartet. When I initially sought the book out at my local public library, the 1978 edition they had available from storage in the stacks consisted of only the first story, “The Stone Book.” While this hardcover book does include several beautiful etchings by Michael Foreman, it did not include the three stories that, published later, ultimately comprised the entire four-story sequence. As a result, I devoured “The Stone Book” and quickly ordered a more recent Harper Perennial collection which includes all four stories as well as a biographical sketch of the author, an interview and a wonderful family photograph from 1890 that inspired the author's writing ("About the Book," page 16). Taken as a whole, each extra lends additional depth to the series and only adds to the great value of the purchase.

Foreword from 1978 edition of
  The Stone Book does an
excellent job explaining
arc of all four stories.

The Stone Book Quarter consists of “The Stone Book”, “Granny Reardun”, “The Aimer Gate”, and “Tom Fobble’s Day”, clocking in at a breezy and concise 172 pages. While each story can stand alone as a look at one part of Garner’s somewhat fictionalized family history (as revealed in the book's additional matter), taken together it paints of broad and deep understanding from a multitude of generational and gender perspectives. During my first (this will find its way into my list of titles to re-read annually) read through I could not help but take notes in my 5" x 3" spiral bound as images brought up in “The Stone Book” found their way back around through the other stories. Each story takes a look at familial relationships, an individual character's search for purpose through work, while painting a vivid picture of each historical period with direct language. In addition to taking notes regarding images and plot, I also found myself looking up terms and concepts that applied to each career explored, among them stone masonry, textile and metal work. A secondary motif that runs throughout The Stone Book Quartet is the communal power of song. Each chapter includes family members young and old who find joy in their work and play through a shared tune. Despite the seemingly hard-scrabbled lives of the characters, each takes pride in being able to contribute to an occasional tune either through voice or instrument.

Back cover of 1978 edition of
  The Stone Book with Foreman
etching of Father's mason mark.

In The Owl Service and other works, Garner points to the impact of mythology and folklore as carried through landscape, but here the mythology extends to include family and work. The magic of The Stone Book Quartet lies not in supernatural dishes or stones, but rather in the connection built among family and craft through time. For Garner’s characters, the magic of existence is revealed in identifying and pursuing one’s productive passion whether in stone, iron, wood or even, in Uncle Charlie's case in "The Aimer Gate", stopping rabbits from striking. Each of these elemental pursuits create family across generations and this practical magic is often unrevealed until one looks into a small corner or behind a shadowy wall.

The Stone Book Quartet is well worth seeking out for those interested in folklore, English history and legacy.

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.

The Call of the Wild, Chapter 1

Yes, this is the same page as was tweeted--scroll down for another!

In the spirit of solidarity, just as I've assigned by eleventh graders to read (or re-read) and annotate Jack London's The Call of the Wild, I, too, have committed to doing the same. When I mentioned in class that I would tweet out my own annotations from the novella (doing what it was I was asking of them), one bright star said, "Does that mean we don't have to it ourselves?" Not quite. The hope is that by sharing what I saw it might spurn the student lacking the desire to be motivated to make their way through the book, too. And maybe even enjoy it in the process!

The edition I am using (and writing in) a Dover Thrift Classic which was purchased when another class of mine (many years ago) participated in The Big Read working with the same title. Most of my students are using old, hard cover copies from the mid-1980's and using post-it notes to make similar observations regarding writer's craft including syntax, diction, tone and figurative language, among others. I've read The Call of the Wild, and my annotations are by no means complete...

Accepting The Call For the First Time (Again)

The Call of the Wild begins with an unattributed epigraph:
the first stanza of "Atavism," a 1902 poem by John Myers O'Hara.

Two weeks ago, in anticipation of our impending seven-day break from classes, I asked my Advanced Placement students if any of them had a favorite book that they enjoyed re-reading for fun. The few that did, mentioned the titles that one might expect from normal eleventh graders: titles from any number of popular young adult franchises such as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and the like. It was then that I hinted at the possibility of my asking them to read (or in some case re-read) a short novel that I enjoyed revisiting during break that they too may have become familiar with from middle school, The Call of the Wild by Jack London.

Though I teach high school English, and the reality that The Call of the Wild is firmly ensconced as a middle school title in our (like most) school districts, it became apparent a few years ago that, for whatever reason, London's classic was no longer being taught. As a result, most students had no awareness of Jack London beyond, maybe, having been assigned (and consequently dreading the experience of) reading "To Build a Fire".

As was expected, many students balked at the idea of being assigned a book to read during this time (and more than one colleague suggested to me "it is break after all"), I reminded my charges that had I any faith that they might read anything during our time apart, I might feel differently. An ulterior motive I had for assigning this particular book was the hope that some had indeed read it in middle school, and could therefor come to the realization upon re-reading it that books returned to at different points in one's experience can reveal new layers of understanding that their younger selves may have missed. (I knew some had been assigned it in the past by virtue of their names having been scrawled in the covers by their younger selves), of those few who had, none remembered it.

The task required of students' while reading was non-threatening as it mirrored one they had recently completed: as each read, she or he would annotate using either post-it notes (in the school's book) or in-text notations identifying and explaining specific literary strategies employed by London in telling Buck's story. The course was, after all, Language and Composition so our shared emphasis would be on writer's craft. For my part, I would also be re-reading the text, albeit for the upteenth time, and share select pages of annotation with the via my Twitter feed and our class blog throughout the course of our break. (Full disclosure: I could not resist the urge to begin (again) so actually began reading and annotating prior to the start of break.)

As some of my students reluctantly accept "the call" for the first time, and others willingly embrace Buck's tale for a second, I look forward to sharing together with them after break our thoughts on the journey (and process)...

Hemingway's Boat Belt?

Last weekend I began reading Hemingway's Boat: Everything He Loved in Life, and Lost by writer Paul Hendrickson. The book focuses on the years 1934 to 1961—from Hemingway’s pinnacle as the reigning monarch of American letters until his suicide around through the lens of the one constant in Hemingway's life during this time: his beloved boat, Pilar. Having never read a Hemingway biography, one piece of info that has been on my mind has to do not with his boat, but with how Hemingway wore his belt. Yes, "his belt" as in the article of clothing worn around the waist to support trousers.

No loops for Papa.

Referenced a number of times (though at 531 pages, I couldn't find the initial appearance easily), Hemingway's manner of wearing his belt is eluded to in the chapter entitled "Shadow Story": "He [Arnold Samuelson] wore his belt over top of the loops--he'd learned to do that on Pilar." (page 159) It can be inferred here that Samuelson, as a member of Pilar's crew and a Hemingway idolater, would choose to wear his own belt in a fashion similar to the captain. (The quote as it appears in Hendrickson's book is also recalled in a more recent Bismark Tribune article about the author's relationship with Samuelson, though this belt wearing is included to make him seem odd, and the fashion statement is not attributed to any influence by Hemingway.)

What would posses Ernest Hemingway to wear his felt in such a way?

One reason why belts were originally worn at all, and on the outside of clothing, was not to hold up pants, but for purely aesthetic reasons. These tightly cinched accessories served to draw in the waist and give the wearer a trim physique, emphasizing wide shoulders and a pouting chest. Perhaps like the corseted soldiers of yore, Hemingway did this to appear more physically imposing or masculine?

This wearing of the belt outside the loops flies in the face of modern fashion, and ironically runs contrary to the advice given in Esquire.com's "The Rules of Belts". One rule suggests that "A belt must be big enough to fill the loops of your pants but not overfill them." Hemingway, wore his belt outside the loops. This talk of belts, fashion Esquire and Hemingway, brings us back around to his boat.  The author was indebted to the original Esquire publication for the money fronted him for a series of articles to generate the funds to buy Pilar.

In the end, it may have been simple sizing issues that resulted in Hemingway's over-the-loops fashion statement. Hemingway famously acquired a German soldier's belt and buckle with the Deutsche words 'Gott Mit Uns' (God Is With Us) inscribed on a crest that included the German eagle and Nazi swastika. A.E. Hotchner, in a 1949 article entitled "Papa Hemingway" notes that "it [the belt] was too wide for the loops of any of his pants, but he wore it anyway outside the loops."

Though only half way through Hemingway's Boat, I am finding the book incredibly accessible and interesting... and who know what other fashion tips I may come across in the remaining 200+ pages?

Sources:
The Strange but True Story of Ernest Hemingway's Nazi belt Buckle by Tom Sanders
Belt (Clothing) Wikipedia entry
Washington Times Review from December 29, 2011.