Saturday, July 30, 2011
Reader's Flow = Writer's block
I haven't written much lately because I've been completely absorbed with reading, listening to audiobooks during long, summer car rides, and watching lots of documentaries (which I've found also fuels my ideas about reading and writing). I plan to write in depth about some of the books I've read (Little Blog on the Prairie and Fat Cat), but the rest of my opinions, and my bookshelf, can be accessed through my Goodreads account (Dgooding). I'm not great at keeping it up to date, but I try.
Bruiser
Bruiser
is a must-read for mature kids. It tackles some pretty tough topics, but Neal Shusterman is a GENIUS with storytelling and sneaky vocabulary. This book was obviously crafted word by word. My favorite kinds of books are those that challenge and entertain me. I think kids enjoy that as well.
The story begins from an adolescent boy's perspective, but what I adore about the crafting of this book is that it is written from the perspective of all of the major players. This technique allows readers to understand the story's more phenomenal aspects from all perspectives, one clue at a time. Tennyson is your average, popular, completely self-absorbed teenage boy. Like all popular, self-absorbed teenagers, he doesn't enjoy realizing that anyone could not like him, especially when this realization is fueled by his twin sister, Bronte:
"It's true, Tennyson! You're a bully. You've always been a bully."
"Says who?" I immediately imagine punching out anyone who might call me a bully, and then realize that my own thoughts are proving Bronte's point, which just makes me want to punch someone even more. This is what we call a vicious cycle, and I don't feel all that good about it. I never thought of myself as a bully; and although this isn't the first such accusation, it's the first one that breaks through my defenses and hits home. Suddenly I realize that maybe, in some people's eyes, I am. This is what we call a revelation. Revelations are never convenient, and always annoying.
This is the kind of thing I would like every middle school kid to read while simultaneously questioning their own motives...in a perfect world, right? As simple as it may seem, kids need to read this! I've desperately, and unsuccessfully, tried putting ideas like this into words so that my students would "get it" that they're not nice to each other. Shusterman says it so eloquently (and sneakily) that no kid could pass up this provocation to self-exploration that spans the gap between humor and deep, pensive understanding. In our world of rampant cyber (and every other venue) bullying, kids never have to own their issues. They're protected by a veil of anonymity. They need someone to call them on their selfish disregard for others' feelings. A vital message is sent here and through Tennyson's journey.
When we get to meet Brewster, we see that he is painfully poetic and outcast by his own doing, maybe even for his good. He comes from a broken home, and that's where the tough and somewhat violent realities make this book for a mature reader. Again Shusterman keeps his audience guessing with a different structure and style of writing. Those who love a challenge will be intrigued by Brewster's poetry, and the kids who feel like outcast weirdos will identify with his pain:
I saw the weak hearts of my classmates shredded by
conformity, bloated and numb, as they iced the
wounds of acceptance in the primordial gym, hoping
to heal themselves into popularity, [...]
Yet out of this frigid pool of judgment stepped Bronte,
untainted by the cold, radiating warmth in a
rhythmic pulse through her veins, echoing now in
mine
Brewster and Bronte's friendship and care for one another (PG-rated romance) leads to the conflict of the novel that can't fully be described without ruining the mystery. The dramatic conclusion had me in tears.
I enjoyed and internalized the message of this novel: tragedy and pain lead to growth and joy. I could identify with Tennyson's heartfelt words on the last page of the novel:
I believe what I can see, but now I also believe there is room in the world for miracles. Maybe not the ones we expect, but they're miracles all the same. They happen every day if only we pay attention.
is a must-read for mature kids. It tackles some pretty tough topics, but Neal Shusterman is a GENIUS with storytelling and sneaky vocabulary. This book was obviously crafted word by word. My favorite kinds of books are those that challenge and entertain me. I think kids enjoy that as well. The story begins from an adolescent boy's perspective, but what I adore about the crafting of this book is that it is written from the perspective of all of the major players. This technique allows readers to understand the story's more phenomenal aspects from all perspectives, one clue at a time. Tennyson is your average, popular, completely self-absorbed teenage boy. Like all popular, self-absorbed teenagers, he doesn't enjoy realizing that anyone could not like him, especially when this realization is fueled by his twin sister, Bronte:
"It's true, Tennyson! You're a bully. You've always been a bully."
"Says who?" I immediately imagine punching out anyone who might call me a bully, and then realize that my own thoughts are proving Bronte's point, which just makes me want to punch someone even more. This is what we call a vicious cycle, and I don't feel all that good about it. I never thought of myself as a bully; and although this isn't the first such accusation, it's the first one that breaks through my defenses and hits home. Suddenly I realize that maybe, in some people's eyes, I am. This is what we call a revelation. Revelations are never convenient, and always annoying.
This is the kind of thing I would like every middle school kid to read while simultaneously questioning their own motives...in a perfect world, right? As simple as it may seem, kids need to read this! I've desperately, and unsuccessfully, tried putting ideas like this into words so that my students would "get it" that they're not nice to each other. Shusterman says it so eloquently (and sneakily) that no kid could pass up this provocation to self-exploration that spans the gap between humor and deep, pensive understanding. In our world of rampant cyber (and every other venue) bullying, kids never have to own their issues. They're protected by a veil of anonymity. They need someone to call them on their selfish disregard for others' feelings. A vital message is sent here and through Tennyson's journey.
When we get to meet Brewster, we see that he is painfully poetic and outcast by his own doing, maybe even for his good. He comes from a broken home, and that's where the tough and somewhat violent realities make this book for a mature reader. Again Shusterman keeps his audience guessing with a different structure and style of writing. Those who love a challenge will be intrigued by Brewster's poetry, and the kids who feel like outcast weirdos will identify with his pain:
I saw the weak hearts of my classmates shredded by
conformity, bloated and numb, as they iced the
wounds of acceptance in the primordial gym, hoping
to heal themselves into popularity, [...]
Yet out of this frigid pool of judgment stepped Bronte,
untainted by the cold, radiating warmth in a
rhythmic pulse through her veins, echoing now in
mine
Brewster and Bronte's friendship and care for one another (PG-rated romance) leads to the conflict of the novel that can't fully be described without ruining the mystery. The dramatic conclusion had me in tears.
I enjoyed and internalized the message of this novel: tragedy and pain lead to growth and joy. I could identify with Tennyson's heartfelt words on the last page of the novel:
I believe what I can see, but now I also believe there is room in the world for miracles. Maybe not the ones we expect, but they're miracles all the same. They happen every day if only we pay attention.
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