Night Watch (Phillips)

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS!!!

When I started this blogging business, I made a promise to myself – no spoilers. I may have accidentally broken that promise at times or spoiled things that I didn’t consider to be major, but now I’m going to do it on purpose.

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS!!!

At times, Phillips apparently Pulitzer Prize-winning approach seems to mirror that of Ransom Riggs in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Research. This is not a completely bad thing, but like Riggs, Phillips at times seems to be writing in the service of the research and photographs rather than letting the research and photographs serve her writing.

And the first half of the book skips around in time and narration because why? Then it settles at the Asylum. Fine – good, even. At that point, I just wanted her to tell the &^%$ story. One character has amnesia. Then a second has amnesia – or is just pretending, maybe? Then a third character, who has abandoned two others at the asylum returns, perhaps, Phillips suggests, seeing the asylum as preferential to prison? But if that was truly the reason, then why the outlandish behavior when he admitted himself? Then he kind of disappears into the background as an occasional threat / reminder of the past. Then the lesser of the two amnesiacs – the one who might have been pretending or may have recovered – recognizes (how? Did anyone catch this? At this point, I was just reading to finish.) – the legitimate amnesiac as her husband. They go to explain things to the head doctor who has been courting/curing the lesser amnesiac, only to have the man who turned himself in reappear (we later learn that he has escaped) to shoot the doctor. Why? He clearly did not love the lesser amnesiac. His treatment of her is brutal. And we have the man (the true amnesiac) literally jumping in front of the gun to save the day. At the center of this mess is ConaLee, a 12-year-old girl. I’m pretty sure I know who her father is, but then there’s some suggestion about the question of her motherhood because of the mysterious root woman who lives up the hill who seems to have had sex with the true amnesiac, but then there is a mention of a three-year interval before ConaLee was born, so maybe I am making this up, but then why mention the relationship? To show why Dearbhla cares for him so much and goes to find him? I don’t know. And then look, it all ends happily ever after.

Acceleration for All: A How-To Guide for Overcoming Learning Gaps (Kramer & Schuhl)

There are certain pieces of this book that, if isolated, could keep teachers from digging into its depths. For example, the authors start with the assumption that teachers should now be responsible for raising a student’s abilities by more than one grade level in a given year. Given that one of the co-authors was a math teacher, it’s not too surprising that there are too many math examples. There is also too much of a focus on the primary grades.

But if you can just acknowledge these things and put them to the side long enough to get through the book, I think you’ll find that a lot of what these two have to say makes sense. More than a few times, I noted in the margins that I could imagine doing the kinds of things they suggest if there were 2 or 3 teachers in the classroom at all times. And the relentless emphasis on data (here and everywhere in education) is exhausting to contemplate, but that’s not to say it’s wrong.

This book also operates in a world in which cell phones are not an issue and that students are motivated enough to try to read and complete assignments. We know so little about motivation. It’s hard to get data from a blank sheet of paper – because the student did not complete the assignment or because the student was absent.

I liked what the authors said about how a school couldn’t wait for complete buy-in before starting this approach. That said, I am concerned that leadership could cherry-pick certain elements, especially the ones that land most heavily on teachers, and either ignore the other aspects (like schedule changes, protection of collaborative time, etc.. One can not pick and choose here. The pieces are intertwined.

This is a challenging book and one that has me reconsidering how I approach planning and grading. It’s also energizing – which for a teacher in June is saying something.

Kairos (Erpenbeck, trans. by Hoffman)

If I tell you that this book is, in part, about a relationship between a 51-year-old married man and a 19-year-old woman, you would be forgiven, I think, for assuming that the book was written by a man. In this case, you would be wrong as this International Booker Prize winner (https://thebookerprizes.com/the-booker-library/features/what-everyone-is-saying-about-kairos-winning-the-international-booker#:~:text=Kairos%20is%20the%20winner%20of,from%20German%20by%20Michael%20Hofmann.) was written by a woman, Jenny Erpenbeck. As the relationship between the dominating Hans and the (words fail me here) young woman, Katharina evolves, the question lingered in my mind. What response would this book have gotten if it had been written by a man? Katharina is not completely passive and does show some assertiveness and growth near the end, but the novel, on the level of this personal relationship, was troubling.

On the political level – the plot covers the time when the Berlin Wall came down – background knowledge is useful. Still, one can see the contrasts between East and West and the way the West, well, dominated the East when the Wall fell (and not always to good effect).

The Epilogue was, for me, a complete throwaway – an unnecessary ‘surprise’ ending that didn’t really add anything.

The Big Rock Candy Mountain (Stegner)

A third Stegner masterpiece (Angle of Repose, Crossing to Safety). I just fall into his worlds, his characters – everything. Though I am far removed in terms of time and place from his novels, his ability to construct conflict and depict inner turmoil resonates with me. This is definitely an American Dream kind of novel that asks the question: What happens if you don’t stop chasing the Dream? Also, what happens if you get stuck? Stegner knows to limit the number of times he pulls the camera back, but when he does, those passages are beautiful and true. Certain language hasn’t aged well, but from my imperfect knowledge of history, it’s true to the times. Spectator Bird next, I think.

Bound to Violence (Ouologuem, trans. by Manheim)

I can’t say I’ve read any other authors from Mali, so I thought I’d take a chance. As soon as I understood it was satire (okay, I read Cherif Keita’s introduction), I was concerned. To understand satire, one has to understand what is being satirized and my knowledge of Mali is nil, and my understanding of African history (with the useful exception of colonialism) is pretty minimal. In other words, I am comfortable saying that this might be a great book, but with a few exceptions, I just didn’t get it.

Lives of Water (Hoppenthaler)

This collection didn’t really work for me. The poems are filled with images and gently evocative. It’s just that nothing really struck a chord or made me think or re-think. I never really had the urge to underline any striking lines.

If I Survive You (Escoffery)

I am not sure how to characterize this Booker Prize shortlisted book. Is it a novel? Is it short stories? Are these linked stories? This inability to classify the book by genre resonates with one of its key themes – our insistence on trying to classify people. Trelawny, arguably the protagonist of the book though not of every story, is repeatedly asked, “What are you?” At times, he takes advantage of the ambiguity of his identity, but it eventually becomes clear that, having moved from Jamaica to the United States, he’d really like to be able to answer this question for himself.

The use of the second person in the title and the book is interesting as well. Who is the “you”? By using the second person, Escoffery invites us in to the stories and creates a seemingly contradictory distance from Trelawny. Trelawny uses “you” to speak of himself, but by not using “I,” he is, in a way, creating a buffer zone. Is he trying to survive himself? The “you” here could also be the hurricanes that plague his Florida home. Though, the question of what is home is, is also one of the central conflicts of the story.

I admire the ambition of interrelated stories, and I appreciate that some stories were re-told from different perspectives. Still, I’d like to have seen a little more movement in the action. At times, things felt repetitive. And while Trelawny’s desperate quest for cash fits the character and the moment, some elements of his pursuit felt uncomfortable, over-the-top and obvious.

I wouldn’t rush to get this one, but I do think he’s a writer to watch.

Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America (Oluo)

I AM A WHITE MALE AND I AGREE WITH OLUO’S THESIS. WHITE MALE SUPREMACY IS EVERYWHERE, IT’S EVERYWHERE ON PURPOSE, IT’S A SYSTEMIC PROBLEM AND WHEN THREATENED, THE WHITE MALE CAN BECOME A DANGEROUS CREATURE.

This just isn’t a very good book. How does one become a cultural critic? Does one anoint oneself? What makes someone a good cultural critic? What are the standards? Expectations? Based on this one book of hers that I’ve read, it can’t be good writing.

The scholarship here is slapdash – erratic, inconsistent. There are massive leaps in logic. When all else fails, Oluo resorts to profanity to demonstrate the strength of her feelings on a topic.

I thought some sections were better than others. For example, the sections on higher education, the GI Bill, and the Squad were, for her, relatively well-reasoned.

So is this a white male questioning the credentials of a Black female writer? No. She clearly has the credentials. She got the book published. It’s not her first one. She talks about regular speaking engagements. She’s clearly earned her ethos as a speaker / writer / thinker on the topic and again, I AGREE WITH HER THESIS (as pretty much outlined in the title). With a few exceptions, she really didn’t make me think about white male supremacy in a new way or point to many key turning points. She’s in no way obliged to offer solutions, but perhaps a cross-cultural comparison would have been useful? Certainly, there are countries that contain white man that have less of an issue with this issue?

So who really picks up this book? I tend to think this is yet another book we pick up because we already agree with it and want to be told we’re right. But if we want to learn the why’s or alternatives, there’s just not very much here.

North Woods (Mason)

I am afraid I am seeing a trend. I remember when Zadie Smith said she wanted to play with the form of the novel. It seems that she isn’t the only one. Diaz in Trust, and now Mason in North Woods. I get (mostly) why. This is not the story of any particular individuals; instead, it is the story of a place. And as Mason covers each era in prose of the time and the layer of time, secrets are left for the next generation to explore and (mis)understand. And the people always leave their mark on the land – to the extent that they never really leave it. And no matter what, the trees suffer.

It is incredibly well-constructed if not always incredibly clear, especially in its transitions. But the author’s hand was always present. I was always aware of the man behind the mask – more aware of the structure than the story. You’re not supposed to watch the magician; you’re supposed to watch the trick.

Lives of Girls and Women (Munro)

I read an interesting comment about Munro after she died. Someone said that people were sharing pictures of battered copies of their books, but they were not sharing Munro quotations. This Munro-lover appreciated that the author was not being turned into a quote machine and she said she thought it was likely because every piece of a Munro story is so tightly woven that it is possible to extract a meaningful quote out of context, that she was not the kind of writer to pause and offer some authorial wisdom,

I also read that Munro struggled with the idea of a novel, so she stuck with short stories. Still, my copy of this book calls it a novel. I understand she preferred linked stories. Whatever it is, it’s wonderful.

Overall, it’s a coming-of-age story as the girl becomes the woman in the small town of Jubilee. Munro’s eye for detail is impeccable, and I really appreciated the way these stories kept me off-balance. It was never clear what the center of each story was or was going to be. I often found myself surprised when one ended. Munro’s camera does not really pull away. One story is 30 pages; another, 70. I can’t think of anyone who writes like her.