Weekly Poll

Here is the poll question for the past week:

Do you pay attention to what critics have to say when choosing what book to read next?

A.  Yes.  Critics help me narrow down my book choices.
B.  Sometimes.  It really depends on the book and/or the critic, though.
C.  No.  I don't want to be biased before I start the book.
D.  No.  I never seem to agree with critics.


The results are in and ... 50% of voters sometimes pay attention to critics (depending on the book and/or critic) while the other 50% of voters do not pay attention to critics for the fear of becoming biased before reading.  Before you become blinded by my dazzling math skills, I will warn you that statistics can create a hazy picture, and I don't want all book critics running out and quitting their jobs because not a single percentage of readers always pay attention to what they have to say.  My numbers are based on a whopping 4 votes.  I was rather proud of getting 4 whole votes (new blog, still recruiting a following), so a big thank you to the four people who made this results posting possible.

One of the reasons I asked the question was because I was trying to figure out my own reading relationship to book critics/reviewers.  Prior to the past month, I probably would have answered either C or D because I tended to staunchly avoid book reviews (even the ones posted by users on sites like Amazon).  Sometimes it was because I didn't want to be biased or find out too much information about the plot by a poorly written review (some people don't know how to review without spoiling), but other times it was because when books I enjoyed got horrible reviews, I was left with my doubts about critics.  The same goes for movies--I tend to really like the movies critics hate while only semi-enjoying the movies critics hale.

Over the past month, though, I've become aware of a new type of book critic: the online blogger who reviews books.  I found my answer swaying more toward the A and B answers from above.  I've been able to find bloggers who fit my reading style and provide fair reviews that help me narrow down my reading selection (or, in some cases, add to it).  Not all online bloggers have reviews that are helpful for me, so I don't pay attention to what all of them are saying (so the helpfulness really depends on the reviewer in question).  I don't know if these bloggers consider themselves critics or not, but for me, they fill the position nicely.  If you'd like to check out some of the bloggers I follow for advice on whether or not to read particular books, my blog list in the right-hand sidebar includes an up-to-date list of blogs I frequently read (most include book reviews; a couple are devoted to language and words rather than to book reviews).

So thank you again to my voters, and thank you to the bloggers who have helped me come to appreciate a well-written book review, especially Rebecca of The Book Lady's Blog, Dawn of She is too fond of books, Trish of Trish's Reading Nook, and Ruth of Bookish Ruth.

The new poll question for this week is up (my polling week runs from Wednesday to Wednesday), so be sure to vote.  My goal is to get at least 10 votes this time. . .  Again, if you have any suggestions for questions, please share them with me.

Happy reading and voting on poll questions!

MadLib Monday 2: 10/12/09

Welcome to the second MadLib Monday!  The "rules" for completing the MadLib are the same as the first posting, so if you need to review, please refer back to that post (which is what is conveniently linked to the words "first posting").  Let's get started. . .

1.  verb
2.  noun
3.  amount of time
4.  verb (past participle)
5.  verb (past tense)
6.  preposition
7.  adjective
8.  adjective
9.  noun (singular)
10.  adverb
11.  pronoun
12.  adjective
13.  verb
14.  name of a person
15.  verb (past tense)
16.  verb
17.  verb (past participle)
18.  name of a place
19.  noun (singular)
20.  adjective
21.  verb
22.  noun (singular)
23.  measurement of length
24.  noun (plural)
25.  verb
26.  noun (singular)
27.  noun (singular)
28.  adjective
29.  verb (past tense)
30.  verb

And now for a bit of "taking care of business" to distract you from seeing the passage just yet...  First, I chose Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut as the book of the week, and I'd like to thank GoodBooksInc for recommending it because it is their current read for their Good Books Club.  And secondly, there is a new poll question on the left sidebar; I update it every Wednesday, so be sure to check that out and provide an answer in the next couple days--the deadline is noon on Wednesday.  I'll then do a posting this week based on the result of the poll (I say "result" in the singular, as there is currently only one vote).  If you have any suggested questions for future polls, please share them with me.

And now for the picture to go along with this week's MadLib. . .

I'd never given much thought to how I would ___(1)___ --though I'd had ___(2)___ enough in the last few ___(3)___ --but even if I had, I would not have ___(4)___ it like this.

I ___(5)___ without breathing ___(6)___ the ___(7)___ room, into the ___(8)___ eyes of the ___(9)___, and he looked ___(10)___ back at ___(11)___.

Surely it was a ___(12)___ way to ___(13)___, in the place of ___(14)___, someone I ___(15)___.  Noble, even.  That ought to ___(16)___ for something.

I knew that if I'd never ___(17)___ to ___(18)___, I wouldn't be facing ___(19)___ now.  But, ___(20)___ as I was, I couldn't bring myself to ___(21)___ the decision.  When life offers you a(n) ___(22)___   ___(23)___ beyond any of your ___(24)___, it's not reasonable to ___(25)___ when it comes to a(n) ___(26)___.

The ___(27)___ smiled in a ___(28)___ way as he ___(29)___ forward to ___(30)___ me.

Do know what book the above passage and picture are from?

Answer to last week's MadLib Monday: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  Kudos to Billy for guessing that one right away.

Happy reading!

Metaphors Gone Wrong?

I just finished reading My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult, the book I used as content for my previous post.  While reading it, I encountered a few hiccups in language usage that make it difficult for me to decide what I think about the book overall.  I can't decide if I am simply being too tough on the book because, being a linguist, I am prone to thinking about language and its use too much or if I am simply being a typical reader.  Instead of trying to figure that one out by myself, I'm turning to the blogosphere to try to find an answer.

In the book, I felt there were portions of gratuitous medical terms being thrown around--not medical terms that helped along the plot but medical terms that showed the author had done her research before writing about a family dealing with a medical (and then later a legal) crisis.  Some paragraphs, though, were so filled with medical jargon that I skipped right over them, never looking back to see what I missed.  When I'm teaching composition, I tell my students that simpler is often better--simpler structures and simpler vocabulary that get your point across can be as poignant and deep (and oftentimes even more so) than a passage written in overly complex structures filled with difficult-to-understand words.  I'm not saying I'm never guilty of doing the exact thing I tell my students not to do--I know that sometimes when I write, I try too hard and end up sounding entirely vague rather than meaningful.  I just wish that there weren't so many examples in modern-day writing of authors trying to outdo each other (or themselves), trying to make their language come across as more thought-provoking or intellectual.  One such example is that the entire book is told in the first person; however, the narrator changes every chapter, which left me confused when skipping around among six possible narrators.  With the deictic "I" changing so often, I found myself having to reread paragraphs, trying to jog my memory as to who was telling that particular portion of the story.

The specific examples I'm using for this post, though, are metaphors that I feel have missed their marks.  Metaphors are one of the strongest tools in a writer's toolbox--they have the ability to make the abstract concrete, to make the unknown known.  I love that about metaphors and metaphorical extensions.  But when metaphors go wrong, they really go wrong.

 (I found the above comic on a website article titled "In Praise of the Bad Metaphor.")

In my first example from the book, one character sees a woman he has not seen in fifteen years, and he's noticing how she's aged in those years apart:

... fine lines bracket her mouth, parentheses around a lifetime of words I was not around to hear.  (117)

I had to read this line through a few times before I realized what it was about the line that bugged me: if her words are all enclosed in parentheses, he is rendering them as extra, unnecessary, superfluous information.  I would not want my "lifetime of words" to be summed up as being parenthetical.  I know that is not the effect that is intended, and perhaps I am just a bit too touchy when it comes to punctuation.

The second example provides another metaphor that uses punctuation; a father and his daughter are watching a meteor shower together, both unable to voice what they are feeling:

Every second, another streak of silver glows: parentheses, exclamation points, commas--a whole grammar made of light, for words too hard to speak.  (200)

Please tell me someone else cringed, thinking, "But punctuation is not grammar."  In the list of comparisons, only punctuation marks are metaphorically present in the light from the shooting stars, and punctuation marks are hardly the grammar of any language; instead, they are mere conventions agreed upon by the writers of the language.  In other words, the metaphor is saying that nothing is getting said at all and that empty punctuation marks are lighting up the sky.

My final example strays from punctuation (proving that punctuation is not my only pet peeve):

Summertime, I think, is a collective unconscious.  We all remember the notes that made up the song of the ice cream man; we all know what it feels like to brand our thighs on a playground slide that's heated up like a knife on fire; we all have lain on our backs with our eyes closed and our hearts beating across the surfaces of our lids, hoping that this day will stretch just a little longer than the last one, when in fact it's all going in the other direction.  (279)

If those three examples are the definition of the collective unconscious of summertime, then I have sadly been left out from the collective whole, which makes me question whether that makes me downright un-American or just someone who never lived anywhere near an ice-cream-truck route or minded that the days got shorter as the summer went on.  In fact, part of the fun of summertime for me was the onset of night--chasing lightning bugs, hearing the whippoorwill...

So that I don't come off as being horribly judgmental, I want to point out that the book had many highlights as well.  The plot was interesting and made me want to keep reading despite my previous criticisms.  And not all the metaphors missed their marks:

Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I've decided, is only a slow sewing shut.  (299)

That statement reminds me of a Randy Travis song: "Spirit of a Boy, Wisdom of a Man."  Being a child makes us think everything is possible while becoming an adult provides us with the wisdom that not everything is possible, thus dimming our spirit.  The song's point is that we come to points in our lives when we have to choose between having a youthful spirit or an aged wisdom, a sentiment reflected in the above metaphor.

And there are also many instances of really deep, poignant thoughts being expressed in simple terms:

... maybe who we are isn't so much about what we do, but rather what we're capable of when we least expect it.  (307)

In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parent who loses a child.  (417)

Again, the language of the book has its highlights and lowlights, so to speak (metaphor, anyone?).

The question I have for my readers, then, is whether I am simply being too picky or if these examples also make any of you raise your eyebrows, questioning the validity of the comparisons.  Moreover, I'd love to hear any examples you've read lately (or not so lately) of metaphors gone wrong.

My Sister's Keeper: A plot that could only happen in America?

This week I started reading My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult.  I had previously heard of Jodi Picoult's novels because many of my students are fans of her books, but this is the first book I've read of hers.  I chose this particular one to start reading because the movie (also called My Sister's Keeper) based on the book came out during the summer (I'm waiting until it hits Netflix to see it), and I have a compulsion to read books before seeing the movies based on them.  Luckily for me, my sister had given me the book for Christmas last year, so I didn't have to go far to get the book.

For anyone unfamiliar with the plot, a couple's young daughter is diagnosed with leukemia, and no one in their family is a perfect match for the daughter to be able to give her blood, platelets, marrow, organs, or anything else she might need to fight the leukemia.  The doctor working on the case tells the parents that using any non-related donor increases the risk of something going wrong with transfusions or transplants.  So what does the couple do?  They go to other doctors to genetically engineer an embryo that will be a perfect match for their sick daughter.  Once the other daughter is born, her predetermined job is to play the role as her sister's lifelong donor.  That's the backdrop to the story, which has its own twists and turns once you get into the plot; however, for my purposes in this blog, if what I've written here is all you know about the book, it will be enough.

As I am reading the book, one question keeps running through my head: "Could this only happen in America?"  Our culture has such a hard time saying goodbye to someone when it's necessary that we have become a culture that mourns the death of household pets (Hallmark even makes sympathy cards now for the loss of a pet) and that is afraid to use the word die in most polite situations, preferring instead the euphemistic pass on (as in He passed on last year).  It is not difficult to imagine, then, American parents who are so afraid to let go of one daughter that they genetically engineer another daughter to save her, without wondering if their next daughter would ever have a chance at life.  In the book, almost every time the daughter with leukemia gets sick and is hospitalized, the donor daughter has to be hospitalized, too, so that she can provide whatever it is her sister's body requires to go back into remission.  Would this be a plausible plot in other cultures?  Or is it just America that tries its hardest to not deal with death?

Not only do we, as Americans, have a hard time dealing with death, we also have a hard time dealing with disease in general.  The following passage was taken from page 131 of My Sister's Keeper:

There was this kid in my school, Jimmy Stredboe, who used to be a total loser.  He got zits on top of his zits; he had a pet rat named Orphan Annie; and once in science class he puked into the fish tank.  No one ever talked to him, in case dorkhood was contagious.  But then one summer he was diagnosed with MS.  After that, no one was mean to Jimmy anymore.  If you passed him in the hall, you smiled.  If he sat next to you at the lunch table, you nodded hello.  It was as if being a walking tragedy canceled out ever having been a geek.

From the moment I was born, I have been the girl with the sick sister.  All my life bank tellers have given me extra lollipops; principals have known me by name.  No one is ever outright mean to me.

It makes me wonder how I'd be treated if I were like everyone else.

The community doesn't know how to react to the family because one of their five members was diagnosed with a fatal disease.  In fact, the family members often don't know how to act around each other (not knowing what they can say or what they should do).  The parents especially have a hard time relating to their non-sick kids with most of their energy focused on keeping their daughter with leukemia in remission.  The "emotionally absent parents" syndrome is reminiscent of a recent post on Angieville that focused on prevalent bad parenting in young adult novels (though Jodi Picoult's book is not classified as YA, it focuses on telling the story of the 13-year-old donor daughter).  Is the inability to deal with disease unique to the American culture?  Or do people from other cultures also completely shut down and forget how to be an interactive human once someone who has a disease crosses their path?

In the mid-1990s, a movie called The Cure explored the relationship between a young boy who has AIDS and his best friend (who is also his neighbor).  When the young boy with AIDS and his mother move into a new community, the community responds by avoiding both of them.  The only one who treats them as normal humans is their neighbor's son.  Everyone else avoids them not because they get to know them and don't like them, but because they don't know how to act around them and they don't know what to say.  Instead of trying, they run in a different direction.  Are we afraid of facing the disease or of facing our own inadequacies in difficult situations?  Or maybe it is simply because they are different, and Americans tend to prefer the status quo.

My question remains: Are all cultures like ours?  It is an unwritten rule that we can't speak ill of the dead or the dying, so some exalt them while others avoid them altogether, whether it's motivated by pity or fear.  Is it an American curse or humanity's curse?

"Happy reading" seems like an inappropriate sign-off after this post, and yet I still wish you all happy reading, even if what you're reading is anything but "happy."

MadLib Monday 1: 10/5/09

I'm starting a new weekly feature called "MadLib Monday."  In it, I will include a MadLib activity based on a passage from a book and a close-up picture of some part of the cover of the book I used for the MadLib.  At the end, try to guess which book I used for the passage and picture.  Let's begin our first MadLib Monday.

As a quick review, the present participle of a verb is the verb + -ing (e.g., walking, choosing); the past participle of a verb is typically the verb + -ed/-en (e.g., walked, chosen); if a verb is irregular, its past participle is the form you would use after have (e.g., have sung, have hit); if nothing is specified for the verb, use the base form with no inflection (e.g., walk, choose); the possessive noun is one that has either 's or s' (depending on whether it is singular or plural); and if nothing is specified for the noun, you can use either a singular or plural form.  If you need more of a review, a helpful resource is the English Club website.

1.  time of day
2.  title of a government position
3.  verb (present participle)
4.  noun
5.  adjective
6.  verb (present participle)
7.  noun
8.  pronoun
9.  noun (singular)
10.  title of a government position
11.  place
12.  adjective
13.  adjective
14.  adjective
15.  adjective
16.  adjective
17.  noun (singular)
18.  verb
19.  noun
20.  adverb
21.  title of a government position (use the same one you used for #2)
22.  body part
23.  noun (plural)
24.  noun (use the singular version of what you used for #23)
25.  verb (past participle)
26.  amount of time
27.  verb
28.  verb (past participle)
29.  verb
30.  noun (possessive)


After you've made your list, scroll down below the picture (which is a close-up of the cover of the book I am using for today's MadLib Monday feature) for the passage.

In the passage, use the list of words you came up with to fill in the numbered blanks:

"It was nearing ___1___ and the ___2___ was ___3___ alone in his ___4___, reading a ___5___ memo that was ___6___ through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of ___7___ behind. ___8___ was waiting for a ___9___ from the ___10___ of ___11___, and between wondering when the ___12___ man would telephone, and trying to suppress ___13___ memories of what had been a very ___14___, ___15___, and ___16___ week, there was not much ___17___ in his head for anything else.  The more he attempted to ___18___ on the ___19___ on the page before him, the more ___20___ the ___21___ could see the gloating ___22___ of one of his political ___23___.  This particular ___24___ had ___25___ on the news that very ___26___, not only to ___27___ all the terrible things that had ___28___ in the last week (as though anyone needed reminding) but also to ___29___ why each and every one of them was the ___30___ fault."


Can you guess the book used for this week's MadLib Monday?

The answer will be posted for everyone to see in next week's MadLib Monday, but feel free to provide your answer in a comment to this posting before then.

Happy reading!

Helped by "The Help"

I've often thought that I need to be or do something more in life to matter.  I feel like being me isn't enough, but I'm not sure whose expectations I'm trying to live up to.  No one has ever explicitly said I need to do anything more than what I'm already doing, but sometimes I wish someone would tell me exactly what was expected of me so that I could feel like I'm working on fulfilling my purpose rather than wondering what that purpose is.

A couple months ago, I was perusing books on my Kindle, and Amazon suggested a list books for me based on my reading interests.  One of the books on the list was The Help by Kathryn Stockett.

I didn't immediately buy it because, at that particular time, I was trying to be thrifty by only getting the free (or nearly free) books.  Yet something about the book and its synopsis kept me going back to its Kindle page every day for three days.  So I downloaded a free sample, thinking, "What could it hurt?"  Two pages into my free sample, I bought the entire book.  Once I started reading, I couldn't stop.  Even when I didn't physically have the book in my hands, the book was still alive inside me because I thought about the story and its characters as if they were my dearest friends and I were a part of everything going on.  I wondered what the characters would do next, what I would say if they asked me for advice, what I would do if I were in their shoes...

I found ways to connect with the three main women in the book, Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minny, even though I shared little in common with them on the surface.  They were living in Mississippi in the 1960s; Aibileen and Minny were both black maids; Skeeter was a young white woman who had been raised by a black maid; they were all tired of the status quo; they became inspired by the Civil Rights Movement.  As someone who has never visited Mississippi, lived during the 60s, or had a maid or known anyone who had one, how is it that I could feel like I was a part of their story?

Part of that connection is due to Kathryn Stockett's amazing writing.  Her words provide dimension for the characters so that they can step off the pages and become living, breathing souls.  She writes the book in sections, writing the different sections through the eyes of one of the three main characters.  A couple of quotations to show off her writing style follow:

My face goes hot, my tongue twitchy.  I don't know what to say to her.  All I know is, I ain't saying it.  And I know she ain't saying what she want a say either and it's a strange thing happening here cause nobody saying nothing and we still managing to have us a conversation.

I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it.

If the book were simply a well-written one, I would have liked the book but not become a part of it.  I would have relished the book as I read it but not chewed and digested each passage.  The book was more than a good book--it became one of my favorites before I had even finished it.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie inspired me because they were able to accomplish a quiet triumph by simply being themselves and doing what they did best right where they were.  Reading about their lives helped me realize that I can make a difference in the world--and serve a purpose--by not worrying so much about living up to expectations but rather turning inward and reflecting on what I do best.  And then doing that.

I will never be a politician who can fight injustices of the world by promoting better laws.  I will never be an ambassador to the UN.  I will never be a doctor who saves people's lives.  I will never be a multi-millionaire who can spend money financing expensive charitable deeds.  Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minnie taught me not to focus on those.  They taught me to focus instead on the other side of the proverbial coin: what I am.  I am a teacher in a position to inspire college students.  I am a writer with the desire to share my love of reading and words with those around me.  I am a woman of many relationships: daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend.  Those are the things that matter.

The book's message reminded me of Gilda Radner's autobiography, It's Always Something, which details her life in comedy and her fight with cancer.  Gilda writes, "What I've learned the hard way is that there's always something you can do.  It may not be an easy thing to do, but there is always something you can do."  The three ladies in The Help found the something they could do and, in turn, helped me to start searching for, acknowledging, and actually attempting the small somethings I can do without worrying about the things I can't do.

Happy reading, and happy searching for your somethings.

Word Play

My husband, like me, is a linguist; unlike me, he prefers to use his linguistic abilities to study any language other than English.  I like to learn other languages, but when it comes to dissecting and analyzing language, I prefer English because it absolutely fascinates me.  Its history, its vocabulary, its quirky sentences that don't follow any pattern expected in the language, its word play. . .

Originally, this post dedicated to word play was prompted by an episode of I Love Lucy.  In one episode, Ricky promises Lucy that he will buy her a mink stole.  When Lucy tells Ethel about the stole, Ethel comments on how expensive it must be, and Ricky begins to tell her that he will be getting the stole wholesale.  Lucy, knowing what he is going to say, kicks Ricky in the shin to keep him quiet.  Afterwards, Ricky tells Lucy, "Don't kick the shin that stoles you."  How great is it that we can say such a sentence in English?  One of the many reason I love the sitcom is the use of word play to make jokes.  Ethel leaves a room, saying she's going to "put on a new face," and Fred crosses his fingers, saying he hopes it works this time because every time she says that she always comes back with the old one.  Ethel comments that Ricky and Fred are cut from the same mold, and Lucy replies, "Yeah, and they're getting moldier all the time."  The examples go on and on.

However, since this blog is devoted to books and reading, I couldn't let the entire post be about word play examples from a TV show.  I promised myself I wouldn't write this post until I had a good example from a book, and yesterday morning, Bridget Jones's Diary, which is also the current "Book of the Week" (see the left sidebar), gave me such an example (taken from page 50):

***
I made a complete arse of myself today, though.  I got in the lift to go out for a sandwich and found Daniel in there with Simon from Marketing, talking about footballers being arrested for throwing matches.  "Have you heard about this, Bridget?" said Daniel.

"Oh yes," I lied, groping for an opinion.  "Actually, I think it's all rather petty.  I know it's a thuggish way to behave, but as long as they didn't actually set light to anyone I don't see what all the fuss is about."

Simon looked at me as if I was mad and Daniel stared for a moment and then burst out laughing.
***

How could anyone not love analyzing a language that allows such extensive play with its words?  Whether it's misunderstanding phrases like "throwing matches" and taking them literally or making a verb out of a noun like "the shin that stoles you," English offers its speakers/writers the ability to be creative and have fun while using it.

Historically, the ability to use words as more than one part of speech in English until Middle English, when the language was losing inflections on its words, making it so a noun could look like a verb or adjective and, thus, could be used as either in creative ways.  Many of our "new" words in English are actually old words used in new ways.  One such example appeared in the Anchorage Daily News on July 28, 2009: "Rain was also expected to cause water to pond in low-lying areas across the Kenai."  When I read that sentence the first time, I had to read it through several times before understanding it because I had never heard "pond" used as a verb before.  The American Dialect Society nominates and then votes for the Words of the Year--most of which are old words/phrases that are being used in new ways.  One of my favorites is the 2006 Word of the Year: plutoed, meaning "to demote or devalue someone or something."  I've not actually used the word in my speech yet, but perhaps I will find something to pluto in the near future. . .

Do you have any favorite instances of English word play?  Or, at the least, any recent instances that you've noticed?

Happy reading, and happy searching for interesting instances of word play!