Snapshot Book Review: Good Kings Bad Kings

Good Kings Bad Kings by Susan Nussbaum
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

To summarize this book as best I can, it is essentially a new, modern version of Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Primary differences are: It's written from a variety of perspectives (rather than just one.
2. The institutionalized characters are adolescent "crips" (i.e. physically and sometimes mentally handicapped) rather than mentally handicapped adults.

However, just like Kesey's novel, Good Kings Bad Kings looks at an institution that, on the surface, is meant for good, and goes inside the walls, looking at it from the perspectives of not only "inmates," but also staff who work there and witness injustices yet feel powerless to prevent them.

While Nussbaum does a fantastic job of capturing the voices of lower class children and adults both with and without learning disabilities, I was especially impressed with her decision to include chapters written from the perspective Michelle, a female recruiter whose job it is to fill beds at ILLC, an institution for juveniles with disabilities. Michelle's chapters demonstrate that strictly vilifying everyone involved in running these sorts of institutions isn't quite fair . . . or accurate. She is just a middle-to-lowerclass woman trying to make it through life without always having to scrape the bottom of her piggybank to make ends meet. She doesn't necessarily set out to lock away perfect normal young people; she just wants to do her job and get praise and approval from her boss--like any of us. Michelle's chapters bring very necessary balance to this novel, making it more than just a captor-captive story.

Well done, Susan Nussbaum. I look forward to reading whatever you write next.

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Snapshot Book Review: Speak

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Anderson does a great job capturing the internal voice of 9th grade Melinda. I especially love the way she does dialogue and makes up nicknames for the other characters. For instance, there's a teacher she refers to as Mr. Neck. If she and Mr. Neck were conversing, it would go something like:

Mr. Neck: What are you doing in here?

Me: Nothing

Mr. Neck: Doesn't look like nothing.

Me:

Leaving that blank in lieu of writing something like "I don't respond" is brilliant, especially in a book where the point is that Melinda cannot seem to speak up for herself.

I will admit, from the outset I did know what the Big Secret was, but because it was so predictable, I'm glad that Anderson didn't drag out the process of revealing it. She gets it into the first half of the book without too much fanfare, and we the readers are left to focus on what really matters: Melinda's coping mechanisms; her relationships with fellow students, former friends, and teachers; her family dynamic; etc. I also really like the fact that while there is clearly a romantic interest between Melinda and her lab partner, it doesn't ever blossom into a full subplot and, consequently, threaten to take over the focus of the novel.

The ending, too, was predictable (you know there's another confrontation coming between her and IT), but I don't think it could have ended any other way.

Now, I really just want to see the art teacher's mural. Come on fan fiction artists!

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Race Strategy: Don't Drown

Leading up to the Governors Island Swim, I was decidedly nervous. Before this race, I don't think I had ever under trained for anything. Overtrained, yes. Slept inadequately, yes. Eaten the wrong foods, drunk the wrong drinks, or failed to eat or drink anything at all, yes. But I had never gone into a race knowing for certain that I had not put in the appropriate amount of work. Until Sunday.

To give you a more complete picture of my lack of preparation, in the month leading up to the race, I completed no more than five swims, each consisting of 2,500 yards or less. The race around the island would be 2 miles--or 3,520 yards--long. Furthermore, all of my "training" was done in a 25-yard chlorinated pool whereas these 2 miles would be swum in the salty, murky, turbulent waters of the East River.

But never mind all that.

Fortunately for me, instead of making me panic, nervousness makes me talk. And because I knew how poorly prepared I was, I started talking at least before the race. "Boy I sure hope I don't drown," was my favorite mantra, even though I knew full well that, as a lifelong swimmer, my chances of drowning were about slim-to-none. I just needed to remind myself (and everyone around me) that I wasn't prepared to race this swim, so merely finishing should be achievement enough.

Meaning, shut up and swim.

By the time I stood, burning the soles of my feet on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the starting dock, I had successfully managed to quash my competitive spirit. I wasn't ready for this race. I wouldn't be winning any awards. And frankly, I should be satisfied if I could get to the finish without too much trouble. And I was pretty happy with that outlook.

That is, until I hit the water.

What I like best about open water swimming is how it can become a bit hypnotic. With no walls, no flip turns, and no lane lines, you fall into this rhythm of stroking, breathing, and sighting that makes swimming seem easier than it ever feels in a pool. Sure, the waves tossing your body around like a rag doll and occasionally smashing you right in the face when you were about to take a breath. But you can ignore most of that, eventually, and just count. One, two three, breathe. One, two three, head up.

The start, however, is this whole other scenario. First you're in line, waiting and waiting, and then suddenly your feet are at the edge and some guy is screaming and waving his arms frantically, indicating that you need to jump in! Now! You launch yourself into midair, and when your sweaty body hits the water, your heart rate goes through the roof. You can't see a thing, and you come up sputtering, trying to get your body horizontal, looking around wildly for any feet that might be aimed directly at your head. Race organizers might call this a "staggered start," but there's nothing staggered about taking ten strokes and finding yourself forced to swim overtop two six-foot men in wetsuits, an old guy doing breaststroke, and a skinny lady whose zig-zagging elbows indicate that she probably never raced competitively before.

God I love open water swimming.

Long story short, I finished the race without too much trouble. The worst part was probably the fact that I couldn't see the final "finishing line" dock in time, so I didn't finish with an "empty tank." Swimmers were already lounging around on the grass beyond the finish chute by the time I got there, but not too many, so I figured I might not have finished at the very front of the pack, but at least I wasn't last!

Here's how the race panned out:

Race Length	Finishing Time	Overall Place	Gender Place (All Women)	Age Group Place (F20-30)
2 miles	39:23	31/210	14/82	4/19

Snapshot Book Review: The Elegance of the Hedgehog

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Honestly, this book made me feel smart to be reading it. It started out on the very first page using vocabulary words I--a decidedly voracious reader--didn't recognize, and persisted in this style until the end. However, being the persistent and somewhat proud English major I am, I returned the book to the library when it was due and then checked it out again.

Honestly, I have to say that I didn't like the primary narrator, Renée. She seemed stuck up, self-absorbed by her own refinement in spite of her lowly societal class as a concierge in an apartment building, and therefore pretty boring. What really kept me reading were the chapters by Paloma, the twelve-year-old genius who decides at the very beginning of the book to kill herself on her 13th birthday and then spends the rest of the book writing observations about the world that will convince her otherwise. Maybe it's because I could relate to her scorn of the world around her--I was a fairly mature twelve-year-old myself--but even when I did not agree with her condescension, I understood and respected it. The difference between Paloma and Renée is that Paloma's observations seemed fresh and genuine, while Renée's seemed tired and repetitive.

Nevertheless, I did become increasingly engaged as both characters began to interact with the new Japanese tenant, Ozu. And then, just as I finally felt as though I had overcome the stodgy vocabulary and was actually enjoying the narrative, the book comes to an abrupt and disappointing end! (I won't reveal it here, because if I had known how the book would end, I'd never have persisted past the first chapter. So I don't want to ruin anyone else's experience with an unwanted spoiler.)

If I had to do it over again, I probably wouldn't read this book. However, having successfully finished it, I feel as though I have finally read something scholarly for perhaps the first or second time since graduating from college, and I won't complain about that!

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Snapshot Book Review: Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls

Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I love Sedaris, and I think he's a brilliant comedic writer, but this book is not his best. There are some absolutely hysterical and spot-on pieces, such as "Standing By," "#2 to Go," and "Mind the Gap." However, other chapters felt a bit misguided, rambling even, and I was horrified to read "Understanding Understanding Owls" and realize that I must have read that story before. I have terrible recall, so hopefully I didn't read it in another of his books, but I was still upset by my desire to skip that chapter when I have read his entire book Me Talk Pretty One Day may times over and laughed anew at each vignette.

Fans new to Sedaris, here is my advice: skip this book and go back and read Me Talk Pretty One Day or When Engulfed in Flames. Also, if you ever have the chance to hear him live, definitely grab that opportunity. Sedaris is a fantastic reader of his own work.

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