Larger Connection

The Brian's won me over.  I enjoyed this week's piece Being Brians.  I have thought about how many Angela Mae Payabans there are in the world. I'm positive I am the only one though.  Automatically, I was excited for the author Brian, who was searching for all the other Brian Doyles.  One section that stood out was page 171. The obituary made this piece more real.  It reminded me that the was more to just the fun of figuring out how many same named people there were, but these were really people.  They all have the same name, they are all linked in that way. 

My favorite part comes after the obituary.  The author writes, "It doesn't show the shape of his ambition, the tenor of his mind, the color of his sadness, the bark of his laugh. It doesn't say with what grace or gracelessness he bore his name, how he was carved by it, how his character and personality and the bounce in his step were shaped and molded by its ten letters, how he learned slowly and painstakingly to write BRIAN DOYLE..." This whole section was touching, especially learning how to write his name.  I never thought about people learning to write their name. A name is so personal. When you're little, that name is solely yours. Imagine, someone else claiming that name as their own, writing that name. 

I was surprised that the other Brian Doyles were good writers too. I loved reading their life stories and seeing how different each Brian Doyle was. It just showed me how we can make many connections throughout life. We can connect through schools, churches, by being in the same shoe size, or by having the same name. Yet, at the same time we are different.  In our differences we have connections in other ways with other people, making a larger world-wide connection.  It's quite amazing. 

I liked his reflection. The line that stood out was, "so we have essayettes in our mouths all day long, and trade them like kisses." We need to tell stories.  We need to tell what is true.  We just need to start. :) 

Angela Payaban

That Article by What's His Name

I was about to start on other homework and was just glancing at Brain Doyle’s Being Brians article…but then I couldn’t stop reading it. I was fascinated. I even looked up my name, and with such a unique spelling (KathArine instead of KathErine—people love to misspell that too. All the time. Even on official letters) there were only 8 records, all in their 40s or above, and scattered through  Texas, New York (x2), Florida, Illinois, DC, Tennessee, and Georgia.

I thought this project was so much fun. I never would have thought to contact the people who shared my name and see what their lives were like or see if we had any shared background or commonalities (like the Brain Doyle who was a year behind our author in college).

I was surprised that this piece was able to hold my attention all the way through. How can compiling other people’s information make for an enjoyable article? Because our Doyle adds his own comments and thoughts and he has such a wide variety.

My favorite Brian was the one from Baton Rouge, Louisiana because of his humor and honesty. “I, like most Brian Doyles, am extremely important and in constant demand,” I love that. Then he continues on to talk about how he is a successfully recovering alcoholic and got married; “She was an actress; I was an actor; we were both drunks; what else could we do but get married?” He has such a positive view on life now, and things are always easier to laugh about once there is some time to heal.

I really appreciated the novelty of this project. And his rules. I don’t know how many words I can type in a minute. I never learned how to type properly, so I just hustle away with my two index fingers (I’m actually pretty fast, but I’ve heard it looks funny). I think his advice to write something every day is interesting—I’m usually writing papers for class or sticky notes to myself, I wonder if that counts. Learning to listen is not one often recommended to writers, but I’ve come to realize that I love to write dialogue and I can’t do that if I never hear anyone speak. The way they phrase things or hedge their speech. And lastly, getting a job to pay the bills—funny and relevant. We’d all love to be writers, but sometimes that’s just not enough.

-Katie Huffman

Post 9--Being Brians

There are a lot of Laura Ojedas in the world, too, and most of them are Latino. I think it'd be fun to write them letters and hear their life stories, because to me that was the most interesting part about Brian Doyle's essay. I like how, towards the beginning, he says "one of us is nearly finished with his doctorate in theology; one of us is a nine-year-old girl"--I definitely did not expect that, and it made me laugh out loud! Doyle then goes on to record all the little anecdotes sent to him by the other Brian Doyles, and how they told this Brian Doyle their hobbies, their family histories (I love family histories!), etc. Each little story told us what that particular Brian Doyle was like.

I appreciated how Doyle used an obituary notice to show the differences between personal writing and very objective writing. Obituaries are so much more interesting when we know about the person's personality, not about his life achievements. I've always thought graveyards were incredibly scary but also intriguing, because I wanted to know the stories behind the people whose names were on the gravestones.  I love old photos, I love learning about my own ancestry, and I love hearing other peoples', so I really enjoyed this piece's appreciation for these things.

I don't know if we were supposed to comment on Brian's 'afterword' sort of thing, but I will anyway: I thought his writing tips were okay, but I think they missed something huge: READ! You have to read in order to know how to write! It's important nowadays to be able to type quickly, but one can also write by hand. It's important to write every day, but I think it's more important to read every day, to "read like a wolf eats" (in Gary Paulsen's words). I've seen wolves eat. They eat all day long, the same carcass. I saw this at Yellowstone in January. We saw the wolves in the morning; and when we left the park in the evening, we saw them still eating that same poor dead elk.

Regardless of my problems with the writing tips, I love the care this piece has for personalities and histories, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

--Laura Strawn Ojeda

The Drama Bug Reading Reflection

I could not find a written part of this thing and instead found a podcast.  I had to listen to this a second time.  Actually, there is a lot of humor and truth in this.  I think most of this comes from the details he throws in.  He could just say, "I once wanted to be a mime, like the one on the corner," but instead talks about what the mime did and how he himself acted inside the house with a fake baby.  He could just say, "I was once in a class and became obsessed with Shakespeare," but went for all sorts of details, from adding words into his language to sulking in order to get a book of the playwright's complete works.  When talking about the "Drama Bug" of the title ("This wasn't a bug, but a full-fledged virus...") I see the things this man has actually written are funny but tragic.  He reminds me a bit of my sister, gaining interest in many things but losing it quickly enough, only his focus is in acting, drama, and the problems that come with such work.
The second part of Act 1 shows him finally joining an acting troupe with his friend Lois, who quickly becomes the diva of the group, while Sedaris falls farther and farther from the spotlight until he is asked to work the spotlights.  I get this feeling when the leader of the group is described as a far-too-bright and far-too-loud man.  I think my favorite part of this part of the reading is the irony of Sedaris's mother: He first says he thought she knew nothing about acting but, at the very end, he congratulates her for being the best actor he could have possibly known, while the real actors kept trying too hard to bring the attention to themselves (the director, for example).  I am a major fan of details in stories, so I think I may have found a somewhat new favorite author.  Now if only I knew what this David Sedaris wrote...


Idida Z. Casado

Damn "!!!!"

You know, maybe it's the newspaper editor in me, but for the life of me, I could not get over Sedaris' (to me) over use of exclamation points. Call me a nick-picky, but the use of exclamation points even once, in my opinion is already too many times.

In all my years of learning the craft of writing, I've been taught that the frequent use of exclamation points were to be considered poor writing skills. I just can't seem to find the justification for using exclamation points four times in once piece no matter what the circumstances.

Some might consider me stuck in folly thinking. That may be the case.

But I don't care!!!!

Heh.

-Israel Carreón

I've always loved the open voice he has in his writing. Although I wasn't quite rolling as with some of his other writings, this was still brilliant. His Shakespearean monologue to his mother as he cleaned was awesome.I always appreciate the little journeys he takes us on in his narration. The pictures he creates in his description. The way he described the mime in the beginning and the way he was so intrigued and interested right into the way his mother shut the whole operation down so quickly felt so real. It's odd to be so entertained by someones disappointment but I feel like that was his message throughout that he still learned something.

Sheldon

Blog 8 by Ruthie Heavrin

Mimes are scary. I'm really surprised Sedaris found such inspiration in one, but at least it fulfilled him for a time and introduced him to a world of tights and makeup. The best thing about this piece is humor Sedaris points at himself. By showing how ridiculous he was, the reader understands how ridiculous they can be as well. The drama bug became an obsession, but once Sedaris saw the drama culture for what it actually is, he learned not to worship or idolize something without seeing the full picture first. Dissapointment is a reality for everyone. Sedaris' mother felt disappointment in her son's choice of hobbies, Hamlet's imagined mother imaginarily felt disappointment in her son's career, and Sedaris felt disappointment in his dreams as they came stumbling and drunk onto stage or easily swooned into bed. Sedaris so proudly spoke in King James English to show how cultured he had become. He saw that same foolish pride in Hamlet. Instead of writing about this serious topic in a dredgerous tone, he instead uses humor to portray the rawness and foils of humanity. Satire is stronger than serious tones just as laughter is stronger than crying. Sedaris still utilizes ethos, but he leaves the reader smiling and thoughtful, not sappy and melancholy. This is a trait that we, as writers, should take into consideration. Using specific details, building unique characters, and paralleling themes with syntax together work as a full production to send the reader with a memorable story.

Did I Catch the Drama Bug?

This piece was really enjoyable. I can imagine the "drama bug" infecting people like a contagious disease. A friend of mine, who is an aspiring actor, reminds me a lot of this character. He spends a good amount of money paying for acting classes, taking head shots and going to auditions just to find himself gaining small parts on commercials that are constantly being cancelled. As a friend I always thought it as my duty to allow him to explore his dreams but I remember him coming home one day and telling me, "You know, I realized that there are a lot of aspiring actors and actresses in Hollywood but majority of them suck! Like, I wonder who in the world allows them to continue in this competitive business. I'm so glad that I don't fall into that category." Well, as I read this piece that was assigned for the blog I thought to myself, "my good friend has caught the 'drama bug.'"  Perhaps one of my favorite parts in this story is when the mother believes that her son is on drugs and spends her time going through his things trying to find something that would explain his bizarre behavior.  When her son realizes that his stuff has been messed with he writes a note saying, "The thing that ye search for so desperately... Resideth not in mine well ordered chamber, but in the questionable content of thine own character." As I read the words of his note I couldn't stop laughing. The humor of the author is so clever that I could imagine an obsessed Shakespearean writing a note to his mother.  The ending of this piece was another favorite part of mine. There is a subtle truth in this part that I thought was well put. "Acting is different than posing or pretending. When done with precision, it bears a striking resemblance to lying. Stripped of the costumes and grand gestures, it presents itself as an unquestionable truth." How often do we find ourselves, like the mother, acting without knowing? As for myself, I too have probably mastered this type of art. Every time my friend would ask me to run lines with him and afterwards I'd always turn to him and smile saying, "great job!"  Maybe I'm the one who has caught the "drama bug."  - Felicia Tonga

Drama Bug

What always pops out in Sedaris' writing is the way he builds up characters. Using specific and colorful details we get a clear idea of what these people are like without Sedaris ever having to tell us directly. In this case, however, he did. Once. Sedaris says outright that the actor was really just a loser, but it didn't feel out of place. Sedaris' younger self is straightening out these thoughts in his own mind and I could see that.

And even though the mother was not best role model, I found myself warming up to her. I liked how mean she was, it added that honesty that Sedaris never fails to weave in and that also adds so much humor to his pieces. Someone else might have taken a mother like that negatively and written books about how troubled their childhood was because of their less-than-perfect mother, but I admire how Sedaris turns it around and uses it as a supportive bit of powerful writing and then makes her the highlight of the entire piece at the very end.

Though this piece wasn't as funny as others written by Sedaris, I still liked it and it is still an excellent example of good writing.


Justyne Marin

Sedaris is a fun performer

David Sedaris is always a funny character because how he presents himself. In this scenario of his childhood, he is enchanted by a man that drives him into drama productions and helps him land one in Hamlet with only one line. He didn't really let himself be as bare as other times when I would read him. I expected him to be more open with his drama rehearsals, but in the end I had him be a little more simplistic, which I thoroughly enjoyed either way because his small instances of humor is never boring.

I liked the fact that he went into detail with the drama man and ultimately, he felt blindsided. I think many people believe in that idolatry that people have for others, making them (those they idolize) stand on a pedestal. In the end, he had his drama "glasses" lifted to realize that he was a horrible actor in the first place. I also admired his sudden change into speaking Old English because of his admiration in reading Shakespeare. I have to admit, if I read more Shakespeare, I would have done the same thing. Who doesn't like speaking with an Old English accent? Of course, working in Shakespeare and reading him for a while can be a bit tedious.

I had to admire the mom in this piece, because Sedaris labels her as a better actor than he is. And by acting, he means that she is a better liar than he ever will be. That's something I think every child can understand and have to disagree. I will believe that my mother keeps secrets from me because they hold no relevance to me. I think that everybody lies to keep other people's feelings from being hurt. And I believe that is what Sedaris's mother did.

In short, this was a sweeter side to Sedaris, compared to his other works.

Kathy Zinzun

I have been bitten by the same bug.

Acting did not spark my interest until much later in my life, but I enjoy doing it and try to audition whenever I can. David Sedaris seemed to be at this stage and his obsession paid off for giving him an acting experience. He tells the story of him becoming a real actor from just a kid who wanted to sound nice by mimicking Elizabethan language. His humor in this piece has a rather quiet tone compared to other pieces of him I have read, which have sharper sense of humor. He focuses on how the passion grew and developed into real thing. Most of the time if there is something I grew passionate about, I would pursue it depending on my situation, such as if I can do it during my school. David Sedaris uses slightly metaphorical language--not too direct, but not too metaphorical either--with a mix of Elizabethan style dialogue to turn himself into a believable yet not so common character.
Probably his mother is another notable character. She was angry at first because he used his brother to perform something, which turned out to be risky. Then she had to control his impulse to speak in Elizabethan language all the time. Later she became an audience for his play. One strong supportive character can enhance the quality of the narrative pull, and this piece succeeded on it for sure.

Hae-Lim Lee

The Drama Bug

I really enjoyed this piece. I have read and listened to a few of David Sedaris' pieces before and I absolutely love him. He describes situations in  fresh and interesting new ways, but I always feel that I can relate to his portrayals. I'm never thinking, "that's not what it's like at all." I like that he doesn't just make me laugh but he gives a look into what life is like for him. I can walk away with more than just a chuckle. 

I think my favorite part of this piece is when Sedaris starts using Elizabethan English. I'm assuming he was in high school, since Lois was sleeping with the cast members, and I can just see this teenage boy acting so ridiculous. I especially liked his insults to his mother, they were hilarious. I think I enjoyed it the most because it reminded me of my mother. The two of us quote Jane Austen to each other in regular conversation. Anyone would think we were crazy if they didn't know what we were talking about, but it always makes sense. Sedaris always made sense even though his family didn't understand him. 

Kayla Santos

Humor and Hyperbole

"The Drama Bug" is not my first exposure to David Sedaris. A friend and I bought one of his books together before we left the country. When You are Engulfed Flames. I thought it was brilliant. Easy to read, simple, and hilarious. Sedaris has the incredible ability to write about everyday occurrences yet make them flat funny. I think what makes him a bite better than other humor authors is that we can still learn something, still see small insights into life and humanity in his work. It's not only humor, but humor with substance. That's how I feel, at least.

I'm not a humor writer myself, so I see it more objectively, I feel, than others who are familiar with the craft. Reading "The Drama Bug" more critically, I picked up a few things about humor writing. For one, I can't imagine it in the third person. No, first person makes it conversational, in the moment, and personal. I'm sure third-person humor is out there, but it's sure not Sedaris' style.

The second thing I noticed was that it's not about what you write, but how you write it. A mime visiting school–this isn't such a big event. Somehow, though, Sedaris writes about it and it's funny. It's worth reading. I'd bet he could make me want to read about his daily tooth-brushing routine, or perhaps his commute to work. The mundane isn't so in the hands of a humor writer. It's not about what, but how.

The third thing I noticed was the hyperbole. I can't believe that Sedaris wrote one hundred percent fact. That's okay with me, though. It's expected, even. The funniest part was when young David was running around, practicing his Elizabethan English. That was the part I felt was least true to fact, though. From the start, I doubt that he could remember the exact sentences he said. He might, though, and even if he doesn't, if he is only guessing or paraphrasing, that's totally fine. I don't see that as being at all dishonest. I did question whether he really did speak like that to that extent. Was he really that clever and witty at that age? Perhaps. But again, it doesn't matter. It was hyperbole, expected and used well.

So when is hyperbole okay? To what extent? To be honest, if other authors tried to pull it off, I'd be critical. Perhaps it's okay if you can pull it off, if you can get away with it by doing it well. Perhaps it's okay in humor writing only. Maybe both. To accept creative writing, you have to accept creative license. How to define and judge that, though, might just come down to who you are.

It would be interesting to learn to write humor, like David Sedaris. The best way of course, is to read it and write it.

-Alexander Hirata

Humor Is Hard

Humor is not my strength.  I don't think I've ever tried writing a humor piece.  I'm not witty or clever. So, when I read humor pieces, it is something I am unfamiliar with.  Sometimes I think things are funny, but I'm not sure if that's supposed to be the funny part. With all of that said, there were many parts of Sedaris piece I enjoyed. I loved the fact that he was pretending to be a Shakespearian character. It was easy for me to imagine a theatrical kid acting like this the whole day. I have a friend who I instantly thought of when I read this section of the article. Throughout all of his ridiculous comments, I couldn't help but smile.

The section with Lois and David acting on stage was my least favorite. For some reason I lost a lot of interest when I read Lois becoming the favorite of the workers. She did nothing, no work. Still, she was the beloved and David was still the "weird" kid. I think I disliked it because I hope I don't become that kind of teacher. To not notice a student for all the hard work they put into an assignment, play, song, etc.  Everything about this section felt unfair.

One aspect that was disheartening for me was his mother's character. She was so negative towards her son, from beginning to the end. I know mother's get tired and I'm sure if and when I become a mother, I will be rash at times. Still, it was hard for me to connect to her and that made truly enjoying the piece more difficult.

I did find humor in the piece. He enabled me to feel like the younger him. I wanted to speak like Hamlet and act like a mime. Still, when I hear the name David Sedaris I expect to be laughing continually. I hope to read another work of his and fall in love with it, more than I did with this. All of it made me realize how difficult humor is.  What if I think a situation is hilarious, but no one else does. I commend humor writers. I feel bad critiquing that skill because it is one I know I lack.

Angela Payaban

This Drama Kind of Bugs

Though I’d heard of David Sedaris before, The Drama Bug was the first piece of his that I’d read, and I have to admit I was a little disappointed. I enjoyed his style of writing; his similes (“watching him was like opening the door to a singing telegram: you know it’s supposed to be entertain gin, but you can’t get beyond the sad fact that this person actually thinks he’s bringing some joy into your life”) and humor. I even enjoyed the reality of his piece, how things aren’t always fair in life. But I just didn’t care for the story itself.

Maybe it is the message I didn’t like. I agree that life isn’t fair, but I hate seeing undeserving people getting opportunities ahead of the people who work hard and follow the rules. I also didn’t connect with any of the characters. I didn’t like the mom because she was so harsh in the beginning about Sedaris’ imitation of a clown. I certainly didn’t like Louis because she was lazy and unworthy of the attention she received. But I also didn’t like the narrator. His use of Elizabethan language seemed annoying and pretentious and I just wanted him to stop. He may well have said all those things to people in that manner, but was it necessary to write it all down word for word?

I think I just expected more. Though I did find bits funny, and he has received a number of awards for his humor, I just assumed by the title that there would be more focus on acting than on the friendship. This piece reminds me of my article for Insight about graduation. Sedaris’ quoting of his speeches in Elizabethan language seemed similar to my inclusion of parts of my graduation speech—true to the moment, but not necessary to include in their entirety. Also the titles of both pieces need fleshing out in the work. I like both titles, but they are a little misleading for the direction of the works. I guess I’ll have to read something else of Sedaris’ to see how I truly feel about his writing.

-Katie Huffman

Week 8's Blog on Sedaris

I've still never seen a mime. I guess that means I was raised in a small town! Which is true, but trust me--it wasn't the smallest town in the state. It was one of the biggest. Sedaris's mother sounds awful at the beginning of the piece: one of those parents who doesn't accept her children for the way they are. I like how he alludes to the end of T.S. Eliot's poem, The Hollow Men (This is the way the world ends/ Not with a bang but a whimper), with his line "I did as I was told, ending my career in mime with a whimper rather than the silent bang I had hoped for."

His giant paragraph on Elizabethan English cracked me up--especially the scarcely disguised insults he directed at his mother! I think she deserved it! I also love the part where, right after he says this to her, she looks at him strangely and then searches his drawers for drugs without telling him (but he knows), and he uses a mix of regular and Elizabethan English to show his funny anger: "My mother had been granted forgiveness on several previous occasions, but mess with mine drawers and ye have just made thyself an enemy for life."

Later on, when Sedaris reveals his mother's conclusion that he'd been bit by 'the drama bug,' I laughed when he said she expected him to get over the bug, just like he'd gotten over "the guitar and [his] private detective agency." This reminds me of my childhood! I always wanted to have a secret detective agency and solve mysteries day in and day out. I searched endlessly for a good mystery, but never found one.

Sedaris is full of humorous lines, but he uses fresh imagery, too:"A person could wrench more emotion out of a sneeze than all my dialogue put together"is one I've never heard before! Sedaris reveals many insights in this essay, but the biggest one I got was don't follow people--don't let them be your idols. People you idolize are actors, and when they're stripped down, they're far below what you thought they were. Stay true to yourself and to what you want out of life. In the end, Sedaris's mother actually wasn't so bad (even though she missed his scene in his very first performance)--I wonder what she thinks of her son now. Is he a clown? In a way, but it's deeper than that. In this story I felt bad for him because the mime/Hamlet/director completely ignored him, and David had worshipped this man. I think something like this happens to everyone, though, and eventually everyone realizes who really supports them and who will tell them good, encouraging things at the end of the day.


--Laura Strawn Ojeda

"I Will Never Know Why" Response

I can empathize with Klebold here.  It's hard for some parents to notice when their children are troubled if there's no concrete evidence.  I have to appreciate Klebold's writing about her son's past, showing us an innocent kid who might have only started getting into foul play while around a certain person.  It's a horrible thing when a person falls into a state of depression but, from this mother and happy family's perspective, it's not something that could have happened to the son who lived a fairly perfect life up to this point.  Moreover, because depression could not have overtaken the child who was taught straight morals and values, the son would not have become violent on a whim.  This story reminds me of many of the stories I'd heard back in Puerto Rico, in which children with loving families that taught perfect morals, values, and religions fell into depression, heartache, the "wrong crowd," and everything wrong that could only happen to those from broken families somehow made its way into this perfect one.  Some of the children were only about to graduate high school, as Klebold's son seemed to be.  Others had just passed age 12 when many signs of depression arose.  Still, a few of these were close relatives of mine or friends of my relatives.  (Don't get me wrong, though; I don't want to send the wrong message.)

I can empathize because I've almost been there and almost seen it a few times.  It's never easy for parents to see when their children, raised in perfectly loving homes, are becoming depressed regardless of outside forces.  It's not easy to force the truth out of those who say they can help themselves.  Sometimes, depressing and sad things happen, and it's easy to forget that these things are probably no one's fault in the heat of the moment.  I wish I could say something else, but, thanks to the honesty with which Klebold wrote this piece, I know a little more about a mother's love for her children and can only empathize.


Idida Z. Casado

What I Missed...

I remember the Columbine shooting like it was yesterday. I turned on the news to watch the people involved in the attack and thought to myself, "Why would anyone do that?" "Who's kid is this?"

I did not expect to read an article from the mother of  one of the shooters. I immediately became interested in what she had to say and her perspective of the story. Perhaps, what really captured my attention were the signs and or signals that the parents did not pick up on. I appreciated the authors honesty and sincerety about it however, it is a huge lesson to parents and friends to pay attention to the subtle things because it could be a cry for help.

Imagine if someone would have just noticed what was going on with Dylan. What a difference that would have been. It is the signs that we all must look out for to avoid situations like this. Susan Klebold's story is a shining example of how we need to pay attention to what is going on with our children.

-Felicia Tonga

What a strange side of tragedy to be writing from. I wish this was a fiction piece and the courage that it takes to put this on paper is something I can only wish to have. So many people could blame her for bad parenting but she isn't hiding from what happened. She is reaching out and people seem to respect that. Her writing gives us such an interesting view into humanity. I felt uncomfortable during the beginning as she realized it was her son behind the massacre, but towards the end of the story, I felt as if she had found peace through learning about suicide.

-Sheldon

Susan Klebold hits her mark. Her article is an anthem for all parents. The train of thought, "Guns don't kill, people do," can also be said about parenting. I feel for Klebold. I really do. While a father and mother play a huge role in the development of a child, they shouldn't be crucified. Parents teach. Parents advise. Parents listen. 

Parents cannot not live for a child.  

I will never know why response

I will Never Know Why by Susan Klebold is another hard hitting reflection of parents' hard time distinguishing that their children are suffering. I couldn't help but pity Susan as she tries to explain the agony that she went through after the shooting and how she had been labeled as a bad parent because she couldn't see the warning signs. To that I say sometimes the warning signs aren't there. I have a nephew that was expelled for a violent behavior he committed at school, and we never suspected that he would be capable of doing such a thing to another student.

I have to commend Susan for having the duty and responsibility to give her side of the story. I felt as though it was needed versus her hiding behind the curtains. To see that she reflects on something horrible that her son did and feel the grief for others as well as the grief for herself and her loss of her son, I have a feeling that I believe everyone here can agree with me: She is only human, just like her son is only human. Her commitment to her son was the same as any other mother's and to call her a bad parent was just mean and uncalled for. It is a mother's job to root for their child and help them and nurture them, but when the child doesn't want or feel that sense of security and nourishment, where does that leave them? It can be that children just have a hard time living up to people's expectations. Maybe that is what Dylan was feeling.

The fact that she shows her vulnerable side to readers shows that she is just as human as the rest of us, and  wants people to understand that this was something that was out of her control as well as something that she could never even begin to suspect. But I am grateful that she is planning to do something about it by helping support suicide prevention. I am glad that she is healing even in the eve of such a tragedy. Because, there is no point in dwelling with the feelings that your son did something as horrific as what her son did. The only way to go is forward, and just changing for the better in what you want in your life as well as what you need to do for your community.

Kathy Zinzun

Humanity, as Seen Through the Lens of Inhumanity

I am blown away by the honesty of Susan Klebold's "I Will Never Know Why." How easy would it have been to write an article solely to defend yourself from the accusations of many, to say "Look, I was good to him, I didn't know this was going to happen, I did a good job raising him!" While Klebold did say this in portions of her essay, it wasn't the focus. While I can't speak for her, I don't doubt there was a great temptation to write a defense, a justification on her and her husband's end for what happened.


Instead, she wrote an honest account of her experience. She gave a play-by-play of the actual day it happened. She shared what she felt. In a bold move, she doesn't ask for pity or even forgiveness. It's raw. It's open. And again, it's honest.


When I looked up the article, I saw seven pages and was a bit bummed. It wasn't the length, really, that set me back, but that it was all online. It is tiring to read too much on a computer screen. Yet this reading zipped by, and I found myself wanting more. More? Why more?


"I Will Never Know Why" is sad. It's real. It's not at all graphic, but many of us I'm sure can recall images and newscasts, unearthing those shocked and unbelievable feelings from when it happened. What would make me want to read more of something like this?


For starters, I believe that these experiences should be shared. Even if Klebold didn't include statistics and hotlines for things like suicide and depression, we can learn from this account. Different people will read into different things, but such an experience, if presented well–and it was–is a valuable insight into life and, of course, death. But what else? It would be a bit off to say that this piece's value lies in the lessons we learn. That line of thinking comes from too much incorrect schooling and instruction. No, what makes this piece great to me is that it touches its readers. It speaks to the humanity in each one of us, the one that can identify with tragedy, with loss, and with the fact that even if we don't know each other, we are all of one species, and we share this planet.


-Alexander Hirata

Shootings are always hard to deal with.

Probably the shooting massacre familiar to our generation would be the one in Virginia Tech, but I have heard of Columbine massacre as well. Usually the media portrays the stories of the survivors afterwards, but the families of the shooters do not seem to make their ways into the mainstream. Susan Klebold clearly depicts how hurt she was, still is, and how she is trying to heal herself by helping other suicide survivors.
It seems like Dylan Klebold was a misunderstood soul--even Susan Klebold mentions that everyone around her regretted for not being someone better for Dylan. The aftermath is horrible--this is a massacre that is talked about even up to now. Susan shows the process of coping in a dramatic manner--the sentences sound objective, but the tone is dreadful. She did not want to believe, but she had to, and she broke down. the title really speaks for this whole piece. No one can ever know unless they talk to the shooters, but alas, none of them are alive now.
I cannot help but mention Virginia Tech once more. I received some hate racism (one from my high school classmate and one from some random guy driving by) after the incident just for being a Korean. Susan Klebold seemed to be hated by others, and she definitely hated herself and the world. People tend to blame something else for the fault. This may make one feel better, but it does not remove the root of the problem. It is sad that there are so little things that can be done for such tragedies.

Hae-Lim Lee

Blog 7 by Ruthie Heavrin

During sexual harassment awareness week, La Sierra University has a tradition of writing on plain white t-shirts so that they may be pinned up and shown for the remainder of the week. The shirts usually say things such as “Be Strong Women,” and “Just say no,” as if sexual harassment is a pinch of cocaine. During a campus fair, one of the clubs pestered me until I wrote on a shirt. “Fine,” I said then wrote in bold red lettering, “Rapists are people too.” My shirt is not meant to diminish the terrible tragedy that is rape and/or sexual harassment, but to allow the reader to experience a different point of view. Rape is evil, but that does not mean the rapist is. Mrs. Klebold is not making an excuse for her son Dylan in her piece, “I Will Never Know Why.” In fact, she is even describes her pain in realizing the fact that her son is justifiably a monster in the eyes of others. She writes, “I was obsessed with thoughts of the innocent children and the teacher who suffered because of Dylan's cruelty.” Klebold admits her son was cruel, but she also admits that he wasn't always that way. Dylan acted like any other teenager. He secluded himself in his room, gave short answers, wore his hair in a sloppy manner, and even made friends with someone the parents really don't trust. Top parenting books suggest to give teens their space and leave them alone. It's really no surprise that Klebold had no idea what thoughts were tracing through Dylan's mind. Since he already had a history of rebelling, storming his room and reading his journals seems like the last thing a mother wants to do. Klebolds piece is about awareness of suicide and the side effects that come with it. The simplicity of her writing makes this clear. Unlike me, she does not let her reader struggle and think for a meaning. She sets up the story by starting the beginning of her grief. I feel this is a wide choice because it grabs the reader. Just like looky-loos on the freeway, the reader wants to get to the point. Klebold sets the mood of fear and confusion from the beginning and carries that to the end because she still has confusion and fear many years later. Her honesty of not knowing, of experiencing guilt, of mistrusting herself all come clear in the tone. The point of view Klebold chose to write from is flattering to her style and voice. She could have written a work that excusesd Dylan, but the piece is about her, not Dylan. She also could have given the families of the victims what they wanted and claim that her son is a monster, but that's not her truth. To her, Dylan was her son who she loved and thought she was doing a favor when she left him alone. As writers, we can learn from Klebold to be honest and write what is true to ourselves even if it is not what the popular choice is at the end of the day.

Taking Klebold's Side

I appreciated Klebold's honesty in her story about herself and about her son. I could tell she spent a lot of time trying to word everything carefully. There is not the slightest trace of blame or anger in her writing, at most she sounded subdued or sad. I also thought it was interesting that she chose to write about it rather than do an interview. Somehow, I think this makes Klebold's words timeless, and the thoughtfulness of the writing makes it stronger than if she had sat with Oprah and answered a series of those questions Klebold came to dread.

However, even though Klebold often says that the words "I didn't know," she does so in a way that drives home the truth of that statement without sounding like she is only trying to push away the blame. She confesses that she is responsible to some degree when says that her love for her son was not enough and he must not have loved her back, which is a horrible thought to have as a mother, and for this I was willing to believe her when she said she didn't know. 

Mostly I admire Klebold for being able to write about something that hurt her so much, and do so in a way that not only makes you understand, but also makes you want to take her side.

-Justyne Marin 

Susan Klebold: An Insider's Perspective on Columbine

I appreciated that Susan Klebold took her time with this article. Ten years in fact. She had many years to process it and her feelings about it. Enough to include a simile; “like staring at one of those computer-generated 3-D pictures when the abstract patterns suddenly comes into focus as a recognizable image.” She is able to look back and notice things that she now interprets as warning signs—the tightness in her son’s voice, his friend (a bad influence) suddenly coming over the house after many months, his ability to hack into the school’s computer system. None of these things alone are signs of a potential murder spree, but they serve as evidence that Dylan was capable of ever worsening crimes.

In situations like these, there is always other evidence—like his notebooks—but these things are usually not discovered until it is too late. No one wants to admit that their friends or family or students are capable of committing the violence they voice on paper. No one wants to jump to conclusions. Psychologists can look at his journal entries and make conclusions, but the problem was that Dylan’s issues were all in his mind and never expressed to his parents. While I’m sure these things were difficult for Klebold to read, using lines from Dylan’s poetry was useful concrete evidence of the issues he was dealing with.

Obviously this story is a terrible tragedy, but the pace of it keeps you going. It keeps you interested in reading because she is addressing questions from an insider’s perspective. I can’t even imagine what this author and her family were going through—it seems like a bad dream or a movie, not something that could happen to your own son, in your own community.  Then that community is so quick to turn their back on Klebold and blame her parenting skills.

I also appreciate that Klebold’s tone doesn’t over emphasize the drama of the tragedy. She wasn’t telling me what to feel. I knew that she was trying to be as honest as possible with the facts of what happened—what she was thinking and feeling and doing. When she says she heard his voice for the last time and all he says is “bye,” angrily, my heart broke for her. Writing this article could not have been an easy task. Having to live with your son’s mistake for the rest of your life, you can’t help but have questions, like why and could I have stopped it? But it’s too late to get an answer to those things now.

I did wonder why she chose Oprah’s magazine to write her story. This seems more typical of an article in People, but either way, I’m glad she chose to share the story.  It doesn’t provide all the answers—it can’t, nothing ever will—but it humanizes Dylan; shows he was not just a cold blooded killer but obviously had other problems of his own, not that that excuses his actions. Klebold summarizes the events of that day and her process afterward; talks with the police, psychologists, parents of the student’s her son murdered, and her reflections on her son and his choices. She comes to a conclusion as best she can to keep on living her own life. I was happy to see her emphasize and support suicide prevention. She didn’t write this story for money or fame, she wrote it to help those in similar situations, and possibly to help herself, to get her story out on paper—out of her own head for a while.

-Katie Huffman

Praying for the Bad Guy

The idea that people blamed the incident at Columbine on the parents of the killers bothered me as I read the piece. The blamed their parenting, saying the did not teach Dylan the difference between right and wrong.  I can't imagine being a mother and being accused of such things.  Susan made her case clear, she was doing what she thought was right. How could she ever know what her son's secrets were, what he did not tell them.

It made me wonder, what exactly can we control?  She mentions everyone attached to Dylan started blaming themselves and asking questions of "what if." What if they were better brothers, friends, parents, etc.  If they had done something different in their interactions with Dylan, maybe he would not have killed people.  But is it even fair to say that?  Susan says she did her best. She raised a son in the way she thought was good.  Can we blame her for a problem she wasn't aware of? And if she had acted differently, how can we know for sure it would have changed Dylan's mind. 

All of the comments made me upset.  Those people don't know what their family situation was like.  They shouldn't blame the parents, who are already in distress, for being the reason Dylan killed his classmates.  To her knowledge, he was a good kid.  This also raised questions about how do we trust our kids?  She does mention problems Dylan had.

I was in high school when the Virginia Tech shooting occurred.  The teachers asked me to lead the prayer during chapel.  As I prayed I asked God to be with the victims and their families. Then, it occurred to me, I haven't heard anyone talk about the shooter's family. So, I prayed for him and his family, for God to give them peace.  After the prayer, some students came up to me. They were taken aback by my prayer. The didn't know why I prayed for the bad guy. We "don't pray for bad guys."

Reading this story reminded me of that prayer.  I realized as I read that of course we need to pray and love the family members of the shooters.  As Susan pointed out, she didn't know what she did wrong. She still loved Dylan. She was still a mother. He was still her son.  I think we forget about the fact that the shooters had lives too. They are human. They had families.  Reading that Susan was blamed for the deaths really hurt me. More than anything, I felt as though this piece was showing us we need to become a community. One that is okay with talking about our feelings.

In this piece, you feel Susan's confusion, her guilt and sadness. Susan was in pain, her family lost a loved one.  We should recognize that and love people through their pain, not target them.

Angela Payaban

Some Pain is Good

This piece brought tears to my eyes. I always wonder, What if I have kids one day and they turn out to be rapists or murderers? What will I do? Such questions make me not want to have kids. Hearing the mother of a child who committed brutal murder and gory suicide speak about her son is extremely frightening and discomforting. At first, I thought she was going to say that her son had seemed like the perfect child, like he would never do anything so terrible—that’s what it seems like she says on the first page: “Dylan was a gentle, sensible kid…”

After this, however, she goes on to say that he had changed and become more troublesome in the years leading up to the attack. This is not atypical for high schoolers—I myself kept secrets from my parents and lied about what I was doing. I was even suspended from school for shoplifting from WalMart when I was 14. Klebold and his friend, Eric Harris, did similar things, but they were more quiet, more angry, and more distanced from those around them.

And she had no clue that such a thing could happen. Her husband seemed a bit more intuitive—he had a bad feeling that his son had been involved in the killings. Oddly enough, Klebold leaves her husband out of her story after the very first part. Columbine’s story is a devastating one, and I read the book about Cassie Bernall (She Said Yes) when I was about ten, but since then I haven’t thought much about Columbine. I looked up some CBS videos and some of the footage is so scary and sad—Dylan and his friend running through the school, knocking things over, holding giant black guns in their hands--but survivors of the shootings deal very well with the incident: they say they’ve turned their lives into meaningful things and they focus on the positive aspects of Columbine’s shooting (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXKKtFfKSBI&feature=relmfu).

I think that’s part of what Susan tries to do. She doesn’t say that she has any project or awareness methods to help her bring good out of Dylan’s message, but I think it’s still too hard for her: it did take her ten years to write about Dylan and the massacre. I do, however, think she tries to blame others for not noticing the warning signs. For example, she says the English teacher who received Dylan’s disturbing essay did not get back to her about Dylan seeing a guidance counselor. She almost seems to blame this teacher for never telling her. Why didn’t she see the teacher again and insist on Dylan getting help? If I wrote an essay like that, I would want someone to help me—it’d almost be a cry for help.  

Susan Klebold reveals many things in this essay through effective flashbacks and harrowing moments. She begins the story at a very tension-filled part, and then flashes back to Dylan’s childhood and adolescence, and then back to the aftermath of the killings. When I read between the lines, I feel that Klebold is admitting her blindness to her son’s troubled final months. He’d done some bad things with a certain bad friend—why didn’t she and her husband try to keep him away from that boy (Eric Harris)? If Dylan hated his school so much, why didn’t they try to ask him why, and give him the choice of going to another school? I am not a parent, but my parents always tried to get to the root of my anger issues and they punished me when I did imbecilic teenagerish things. They were not oppressive: I appreciate their concern, faith, and persistence in dealing with my younger self.

I do not want to go along with the parents and citizens in America who condemned the Klebolds for raising a murderer. However, something HAD to have gone wrong with his life, though, or else he would not have done such a cruel thing. He was depressed and suicidal, yes, but why did he need to devastate an entire community (and his family) in order to end his own suffering? If Klebold needs to see his act as connected to suicide in order to cope, then that is understandable. But for me, it is not enough. Susan seems obsessed with her attempts at keeping her child safe; I, on the other hand, appreciate my parents’ ability to let me experience pain. Pain is a part of life. If one is protected from pain throughout his childhood and then suddenly meets it in adolescence, handling that pain is difficult and sometimes impossible. Parents nowadays want their children to fulfill their own dreams, to excel in school and sports, and live free from trials and tribulations. I’ve seen it in so many of my own friends! I’ve also seen them go off to college, completely forget their sheltered lives, and do things that endanger themselves. They experience natural, painful consequences of their actions and sink into deep depression. I pray that when I someday am a parent, I work with God and my husband in order to allow my children to learn and grow with a little help from me and a lot of help from life.

No matter what we try to speculate about Columbine, we’ll never know why Dylan and Eric (and all the other murderers, suicide-doers, and perpetrators of evil in the world) did what they did. Maybe we’ll find out when the pain of this world is gone and we live in a place where we are NOT supposed to experience pain. Here on earth, it’s inevitable and expected.

--Laura Strawn Ojeda

Take one candle light a room.

People write other races all the time, and Straight wasn't that great at writing another race. She's a good writer no doubt, but her race writing did nothing for me and this plot did nothing for me. What did get me was the rest of the writing. Things that stuck in my mind were the honest descriptions of people like glorette. You get such an HD picture that it's almost too much. The way some chapters started with description of travel and destination and how the south was described in this book; well those were my favorite things. As for the rest of it and the convergence in LA and the hurricane; it felt like the movie remember me with Robert Pattinson the way it used a fake family plot to give a face to the very real catastrophe and I hated that. The catastrophe's already have faces. The ACTUAL people that went through Katrina and 9/11.

Sheldon

Take One Candle, Light A Room Review

I will admit that this was a hard book review, being that I was zoning in and out while I was reading, and ultimately got around half way. I'll admit I didn't finish the book, but from wat I remember, I thought there were instances in which I was interested in how she worked in her descriptions.

Sometimes there was instances in which I was bombarded with an overworked sentence that was nothing but descriptions and nonsensical details. Nothing to push the story onwards. It just gave a clearer picture to the setting which was always helpful. I never got tired of the settings and the imagination that she mentioned in the settings. But there were times when I looked at it and had to make a double take once or twice because I was overwhelmed at times. Overall, I enjoy the lingering, but sometimes, I didn't feel like lingering for such a long time.

I really liked the relationships that FX Antoine had with the other characters. Her father, brother, Victor, they all had a relationship with her that was significant. And the journey towards Louisiana was the farthest that I went. But I still feel as though I was saving myself the time of not worrying about the unnecessary details.

To be as brief and honest as I can with this book review, I didn't finish it. But what I loved was the interesting details, but felt that she didn't have to go overboard on details so that way I could focus better on the plot versus the pretty wording.

Kathy Zinzun

Take One Candle, Light a Room: Short Reflection

I have to admit, I rushed when reading this novel.  Still, it’s an amazing read about the bonds of family and friends and the things some may go through to preserve these bonds.  I appreciate how the author can write from the perspective of a created character instead of taking an omniscient narrator’s role, as was the case with most fiction I read throughout high school.  This story was insanely believable.  Everything mentioned had a backstory relating to either the main character or someone she knew; the characters had individual dialects (excluding the narrator to some extent); and not everything in this novel followed a linear path.  However, there were many parts of the story that made me feel uncomfortable.  I’m not saying that just because I don’t feel that the story is PC, the story is automatically bad – heck, I look back on this story fondly and am sure most people would.  I think I’d better just leave it at that, otherwise I’ll spend too long on individual blocks of the story and avoid the bigger picture.  In the end, it’s a good story with believable yet shocking writing and timing, always keeping readers on the edge as the newest event unravels.

Idida Z. Casado

Blog 7 by Ruthie Heavrin

Susan Straight's Take One Candle Light a Room is highly convenient and misguided. How can a white woman possibly write from the point of view of a black woman? In class we were told that Straight feels like a black woman trapped in a white woman's body, but that goes against everything she writes for in this novel: family and heritage. Why isn't Straight proud of who she is? Why can't she be a white woman in a white body who understands that racism is bad? I feel a little offended that she chose to write from a first person point of view. Like the essay prompt suggested, family is huge theme in this book. Victor loses his family so he creates a new family with the fakesters. FX Antione reconnects with her father during the trip, and Victor and Antonine are finally able to find family and peace in each other. Straight should find peace in who she is. The book is highly convenient and almost feels like magical realism. How convenient that Hurricane Katrina shows up and that everyone happens to be in Louisiana at the same time. If it were that easy to be together, then the journey should have never happened in the first place. There was convenience in the characterization as well. Straight uses the plot to form the characters instead of the other way around. I mean that many of the characters did things because it would progress the plot, not because it is something they would actually do. Sure, all the Little Women fans would love to see Teddy and Jo together, but it's not in Jo's character to marry someone for convenience. It is not in Victor's character to lash out at Antione then suddenly be nice the next chapter. He leaves hints for her to come to Las Vegas, then acts surprised (and angry) when she shows up. Victor wasn't round enough. Also, the manner in which Straight described her characters was unsatisfying. I couldn't picture a single one and had to choose people from my life to take the place. I wish I could say something positive about the book, but the constant switch between flash backs and present time became jumbling. I couldn't tell if most of the events were past or present. The syntax was highly frustrating as well. Most of the sentences. Were. Not complete. Sentences and I. Had trouble. Following along. It had a James Joyce stream of conciseness feel, but there is a reason why scholars still scratch their beards over Ulysses: it's hard to understand because the syntax is ludicrous. I would have loved if the first chapter turned into an epic tale of how these women overcame rape and defeated the white rapist. Such good content should not be summed up in one single chapter. Those womens' stories were much more interesting than the constant bragging of the places Antione has been. Why is this book so critically acclaimed? I don't know but I can guess that it has something to do with white people being happy that a white woman wrote from a black woman's point of view. "Finally," they must have thought – "We're in the clear."

When you believe... How far would you go???

When reading this book it immediately reminded me of movies such as: Blind Side, Lean On Me and the Power of One. All of these movies portray people taking a risk so that another person can have the opportunity to succeed. Antoine is an character who notices Victor's potential. She knows that her Godson can succeed if he is given the right tools and the opportunity. When Victor gets into trouble Antoine takes it upon herself to help him. She sacrifices her time and energy to help someone that may not even accept it. This is a huge risk. I often wonder to myself, "If I were in Antoine's position would I do the same thing?" My answer always comes back as, "it depends." However, I am reminded that that if I really want to make a difference...sometimes you have to take a risk. This is the beauty of truly believing in something. Dr. Martin Luther King once said, "If you haven't found something worth dying for... You aren't fit to live." What if believing meant dying? What if dying meant really living? How far would we go to risk everything that we have for something that we believe in? - Felicia Tonga

Take One Candle Light a Room

I loved this book! It's incredible how she was able to get into the mind of not just a black woman, but a biracial woman. I think that specificity is overlooked when people talk about Straight's achievement. I could relate to the way she portrayed some of the thoughts and emotions that a biracial woman might have. Sometimes it felt as though the book was written for me. I had to keep looking at the author's picture in the back to confirm that it wasn't a memoir; she was so believably in the character's head.

Everything that Antoine saw had a memory attached to it, making the world, in the book, rich and real. The back stories were complex and detailed, further adding to the reality of the novel. I can't say enough about how true to reality and well written this book is.

The story line itself was engaging and I was hooked from page one.


Kayla Santos

How much do you care for someone?

The book "Take One Candle, Light A Room" was full of unexpected elements. The process of Antoine doing her job and constantly worrying about Victor's life cam with crime, unexpected disasters and encounters with different people. Probably the most shocking thing about this book is that the "n" word was constantly popping up. (I would never dare to use this word in my pieces.)
What I saw in the entire book was that Susan Straight had through understanding of the cultures she was writing about. Sari told the class that she calls herself "black woman trapped in white woman's body." I could truly see that here and there--her understanding of New Orleans culture, use of slangs and descriptions of people all prove this. When a writer must write something about it, sufficient amount of knowledge is always required, if they do not want to publish something with plentiful of error about the subject matter and be laughed at by the readers or the experts.
The characters seem plain, but the burdens they possess are strong. Antoine is haunted by her past constantly and Victor is lost in his path. Glorette's death could be the starting point, which means the past five years were nightmares for both of them. Having someone's death as a trigger for menacing life always works, and in this book, it really works.
Overall, the book really matches the title: Antoine is searching for a candlelight that will light up her life. The process, of course, is hard, but it is worth trying.

Hae-Lim Lee

White Woman, Black Characters

The first thing that strikes me about Susan Straight's Take One Candle Light a Room: A Novel is that it's about (in part) Southern Californians. That in itself is nothing odd or unusual, but the fact that the people, lives, and locations she chooses to write about are not the typical–that's how this fact stands out. While I do read FX Antoine–the successful, exotic-looking, independent writer who lives in an impressive flat in LA when she's not touring exotic and little-known towns and attractions in other countries–as a too-ideal, possible fantasy of Straight's, the majority of characters in Take One Candle defy Hollywood's movie and magazine image of Southern Californians. We don't see Barbie and Ken, or sunglasses-bearing blondes cruising, top down, under rows of palms. No, instead we get poverty, slang, drugs, prostitution, and unglamorous violence.

I, a NorCal native, get to see a SoCal I'm largely unfamiliar with. I enjoy it.

Another surprising element to this novel, or to Straight, is the fact that she's a white woman. No, I don't think I'm racist, but how did a Californian white woman grow to experience and know the cultures, languages, people, and events that she writes about? I don't doubt that she writes what she knows, to an extent. We know, too, that she lives in Riverside, the city she was born in. She even claims to be able to see the hospital she was born in from her kitchen window. Location, I understand, but the culture she writes is fascinating, mostly because it is from an unexpected source. Part of that can be answered, no doubt, in some of the essays she's written on race. While I haven't read them, I came across them as I was researching her. Two of the ones she's published are titled, "Skin Deep: Black Women & White Women Write About Race" and "Race: An Anthology in the First Person." I may look for a copy of these before Straight comes and reads at school.

Take One Candle's plot was fantastic–perhaps too fantastic for me. There was a rich backstory, an exciting journey, and plenty of action.

There backstory contained a healthy degree of mystery and pain. It was romantic–to an extent–as revealed by FX Antoine, but we (the readers as well as FX) soon find out that all may not be as previously thought. While the late-book discovery that FX's ancestors may not be who she always thought they were is a big deal, I honestly cared very little about it.

The locations were many and quite varied, ranging from Europe to California's high desert. While this was interesting, much of it was pointless. All of FX's travels could have been absent from the story and it still would have functioned well. The journey FX and her father took to New Orleans was a major factor in the story. I'll admit that when I first cracked the book, I had no idea we would end up in Louisiana. As for the climax, "Katrina," we all expected it to be a big deal. But we all knew what happened, so we had that heads-up. Setting might have been my favorite element of the story. Even though it was a tad raw, it wasn't overly so. Those of you who read Let the Great World Spin got some more-than-typical grittiness. She captured these settings, fictional or not, well, and the world she built in LA had an almost film noir aura to it at times.

As for the action in the novel, most of it was indirectly seen. We didn't see Victor get shot, nor were we in the moment when FX's father killed Mr. McQuine. We still had plenty of action despite that, but I appreciate Straight not using the cheap tricks of gunfire and car chases to drive her novel. Instead, it was the drama and heavy situations that made us turn the pages. Good move, Straight.

Another thing I found different in this novel was the attention paid to banal details. In the books I usually read, there tends to be a reason we read what the protagonist is putting on, or why he or she is doing his or her hair a certain way. In this novel, we get it and it bugged me that there was no purpose. FX braids her hair? So, what? She changed into a white tank top originally bought for one of the guys? Cool. I don't want to generalize people, but perhaps since I'm a guy, I didn't care for these constant, pointless details.

I've lambasted enough. If you've read this far, you may think I hate the novel. I don't. I enjoyed it, actually. I'm glad we read something a bit easier for class. Sometimes assigned reading, although it may be leisure reading otherwise, tastes a bit like homework. This one was fun to read, and it makes me look forward to Straight's visit.

The vernacular used in the novel required a second or even third pass, sometimes, but I appreciate the authenticity of it. The story benefitted greatly from the true-to-life dialogue. The characters would have been so different in my mind if they were written "more better."

The depth to her story was good, too. I think I've read somewhere that some of her other novels might involve similar families or settings? Whether or not this is true, I could see the authentic backgrounds and histories in the people she created (or recreated).

The story, to me, was reminiscent of thrillers I've read, but it was performed with more class. It wasn't a story I was necessarily enveloped in, but I had fun with it, nonetheless. I wonder if Straight has been to New Orleans? What are her other ties to that place?

My last praise for Take One Candle is a fact I've mentioned before: Straight is white, writing about blacks. On the surface, this may not be credible, but she pulls it off successfully. This, more than anything, is encouraging. It's possible for me to produce something that catches people off guard, but in a way that works.

-Alexander Hirata

Take One Candle

Susan Straight has beautiful prose. I will say that first because it is true and I liked how natural and unique her descriptions were because they brought color to the story. Her story was also very complex (which I always like to see in a book) but no loose ends were left over. I don't mind loose ends, but it's also nice to see an author who has thought through every aspect of a story.

However, Straight's novel was very difficult to read. When I first began reading it, I first noticed the language but not soon after I realized I was constantly floating around between time and space because I had no idea where/when I was in the story. The first chapter is a family tree and though I know this is to set the premise and context of Fantine's past, it was hard to keep track of later on. Eventually I gave up and just went along for the ride alongside Fantine and let her tell me who was related to who and if I couldn't remember later, it didn't matter because it was hard enough to keep track of everyone's names. At the end of the book, I can only say that Victor was Glorette's son.

Normally, I love a book with a lot of background story, it gives it life and context and makes it feel more real, but it felt as though Straight went a little too far with it, or at least Fantine did. Fantine's obsession with the past was the reason I was always confused about the when. She often (and very naturally) slips into her memories and memories of memories. The fact that Straight can weave this in before we even notice it is 20 years prior shows her talent as a writer, but made the reading experience full of questions and confusion. Which made the ending even harder to understand because it's so... succinct. Everything was solved suddenly with no loose ends, it was a bit jarring after all the problems and loose ends Fantine had been struggling with all along.

Nevertheless, I admire Straight's ability to write about a culture/race that is not her own and have it be so compelling and convincing. Her novel is a good one, if only hard to read and probably not meant for the casual reader looking for something they can read for ten or twenty minutes at a time every so often. I tried to read the book this way, taking maybe 30 minutes to an hour at at time to chisel away at it, but I always had to back track to remember where Fantine is or if Fantine is even the subject at that point in the story.


Justyne Marin

Take 1 Candle Light a Room: Fat Purple Icicles, Characters, and Family

At first, I found the writing style very confusing because I had trouble differentiating between the narrator’s thoughts, reminiscing, or current events. Eventually I was able to figure it out and enjoy the narrative. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would re-read so many lines and not because I was confused anymore, but because I was in love with Straight’s word choices. Lines like “It must have been spring, because the side of the barn was covered in wisteria like fat purple icicles…” (119). I never would have thought to describe a plant like that and I literally stopped and tried to visualize the flowers hanging off the barn like fat icicles. As Laura pointed out in her post, Straight’s descriptions are not always the most clear and easy to visualize, but I appreciated the author’s fresh take on the world anyway. I was ok with not knowing exactly what something looked like, I knew Fantine knew what it looked like and I chose to just go along with whatever she said.

I loved the idea of Fantine’s job as a travel writer (my dream job!), but the opening chapters mislead me because that’s what I thought the whole novel was going to be about. As Professor Fordham has taught us, the opening chapter of a book or paragraph in an article establishes a contract with the reader. The first chapter is about Fantine’s mom and their whole history, which is important background information, but not necessarily the strongest opening to a book about searching for Victor. Even in the second chapter, Fantine has just gotten back from a trip and is attending a book launch when she gets a phone call from Cerise back home about Glorette’s 5 year death memorial, but the rest of the novel is not really about either FX’s job nor the memorial. Both are largely relevant background and sub-plot, the main plot focuses on Victor, who we only meet in a brief phone call.

Though Victor was one of the main characters, he was the most confusing to me. He was under unique, strenuous circumstances, which may have affected his reasoning, but his personality seemed muddy. Victor came off as very static. I didn’t see much growth or change occur. Opportunities changed-like Fantine taking full responsibility for him-but he remained the same, interested in education-even giving himself the rapper name ‘DJ Scholaptitude’ and deciding to use the ruby bracelet as money for tuition. He shows some resentment toward Fantine while she is chasing him, but in the end he depends on her to save his life, same as at the beginning.

Alfonso was my favorite character because he was the most dynamic. He’s a prime example of a bright young mind going to waste because a life of crime was the easiest or “only” path he saw for his life. By the end, Alfonso begins to turn his life around; turning on head bad guy Jazen, admitting long kept information about Glorette’s murder, and turning himself in, in New Orleans, for his own safety. We don’t see a magical change overnight, which I appreciate for being realistic, but the reader can assume his growth will only continue- if not into education, than to a legitimate job for his family’s sake.

As our essay question prompted, place and family are enormous parts of the novel. The book is even broken down into chapters according to place; Sarrat, Weimar, etc. Dialect was another means of establishing place, with Fantine even changing her speech patterns according to where she was and who she was talking to; “’Where you stay now?’ I fell into my second language so easily, even as I could still see the carved wooden pew and white roses in Arthur Graves’s loft” (94). In my essay and now, I feel that family is the most integral part of the story. The entire plot revolves around Fantine finding her godson, Victor. Fantine’s father accompanies her and they (and the boys-Victor, Alfonso, and Jazen) depend on family along the way for food, information, and a place to stay. In the end, Fantine and Victor depend on Emile to save their lives. Family isn’t only reserved for blood relations, but members of the community and anyone with whom you form a bond strong enough to depend on them for anything. Fantine and Tony. Henri and Michelle Meraux. Victor and Fantine.

-Katie Huffman

Take One Candle, Light A Room

I had mixed feelings about the book "Take a Candle Light a Room."  The first chapter drew me in.  Straight has beautiful lines that I appreciated the entire time I read the book.  However, the many characters created confusion as I continued reading.  Some names were similar and for some reason, I had a hard time keeping track of everyone.  The main person/character that confused me was Moinette Antonie and Fatine's other ancestors. I wrote down a list, a family tree which made sense but then later in the book, Straight referred to the characters as something other than I wrote down. So, I was confused. Also, we never truly met or got to know those characters, since they were ancestors. So it was even harder to remember each.

One aspect I did enjoy was that the language used in the dialogue brought another layer to the book. Although difficult to understand at times, seeing that I do not speak Louisiana French, I appreciated the honesty of the dialect.  Another thing I liked was all of the beautiful descriptions of the places surrounding Fantine in the book.  Her smilies and imagery work well to combat the other confusing aspects of the piece. When I was confused about something in the story line or the character presented, Straight placed a beautiful sentence before me.  One I really liked was, "I walked past all the lovely buildings, the olive trees pruned like airborne poodles, the tiny rugs of lawn." (61) There were many more that allowed me to visualize the space around them even if the characters were muddy.

Altogether, I did like the ending of the story. Even though for most of the story, it felt like Mission Impossible, I was glad to see the conclusions Fantine came to about family, finally realizing the true importance.  After reading about Straight's family and her love of the African American culture, it brought a different light while reading the book.  She did a good job of becoming or interpreting someone of a difference race and culture, which I deeply admired.

Angela

Letters to Fantine

I commend Susan Straight for stepping so completely into the shoes of a black woman with a completely different culture than the typical white person's. She so immersed me into Fantine's voice that I forgot she'd written the book: Fantine wrote it! Therefore, it is to Fantine I wish to direct my critiques.

I did not enjoy the choppy sentences or the referrals back to previous (5-6 or more pages previous) parts of the book. They made me wrack my brain for the last time Fantine said something, and when I simply couldn't remember, I felt frustrated. Nor did I enjoy the Louisiana French aspect of the book. It could have been much clearer! The language is an important part of Fantine's life, and it captures the local color of the story, but it was not always clear to me what the characters (namely Enrique Antoine or Gustave Picard or Aunt Monie) were saying/indicating with their Louisiana French. I looked some of the words up on Google Translate, but some of the French-sounding words were unavailable because there is no language selection that says 'Louisiana French'.

Another hugely confusing aspect of the book was all the Moinette Antoine-Marie-Therese-Marie-Claire line of the story. I've read the book twice and I still am confused about who is who's relative and who got sold on the river and who had children and who those children were and how those children connect with Fantine, Victor or Glorette. Again, this is frustrating in a novel. Though Fantine seems to have some great  descriptions of the different places and people around her, I find these descriptions and metaphorical statements fuzzy and sometimes nonsensical: I couldn't relate. I cannot picture a "vague, taupe person": I literally see a smudge. I like to be able to picture the people I meet in books, and I simply could not picture Fantine. I'm sure this contributes to Fantine's awareness that people think she could be "Italian, Brazilian, Mexican, Hawaiian, etc..." but to me, images of people I know flashed around in my mind and none stuck for Fantine. I still don't know what she looks like.

Even though Glorette was more beautiful, and "hammered gold and purple velvet eyes" sounds really nice and beautiful, I could not picture Glorette. I have problems when people are described as having purple eyes. I have never met anyone with purple eyes. Fantine's descriptions were very vague--I could only imagine a sliver of what she was talking about. I had to look up levees, bayous, cypress trees, etc. in order to know what those things look like. I know she described them, but I feel that she could have described them a little better.

I have to say that I thought this story was going a whole different way when I read the first chapter: there was virtually nothing about those five women after that, and I think just that story would have been really interesting (escape to California, their lives once they got there, Gustave and Enrique joining them and marrying them, building the new Sarrat)--perhaps more interesting than the book itself. I liked Victor's character, but I felt that he crossed himself sometimes. He didn't seem like someone who would just ride with gangsters for no reason: how did he start riding with them? Why? When did he begin college? When did he graduate from high school? If he is 22, shouldn't he have finished a 4 year program, not a 2-year? WHat did he two in the two years before or after high school when he wasn't in college? Why, exactly, did Mando shoot him? I understand the reason was petty, but the reasons seemed wishy-washy and all over the place.

I should probably stop talking about the things I did not like. I thought the story was powerful and resonant in modern culture, where everyone (okay, not everyone, but a lot of young people) wants to be the 'cool' gangster (whatever 'race' of gangster they feel they fit in) type with their pants hanging off their asses and and their spiky hair and blah blah blah. I wish Victor's valiant resilience had been brought out more. I have a lot of questions. Maybe I will ask Susan Straight, but I will probably be too nervous. I'd like to read another of her books, because I've heard this one is different from the others in some ways, probably because Fantine "wrote it." I do think Fantine did great at narrating the voices of her family members (aside from the French), and the ways they acted: quiet, hardworking, etc.

I have such mixed thoughts about this book. It wasn't boring, though it did get long while Fantine was searching for Victor. Just find him already! Was my glaring thought in those chapters. And the ending wrapped itself up a little too neatly. How did Jazen die in Katrina but Tony was perfectly fine? Anyway. I will stop now. ;)


Laura Strawn Ojeda

Cairo

This was a story about connecting to people and realizing that we are all one human experience. The language is engaging. The small details that put you in the story such as the stiff yellow ticket. If you've ever traveled you can relate having to keep track of things like tickets. They are treasured pieces of paper and it connects an emotional attachment. She fills us in with phrases like, "All is gravity and physicality. You get a sense of how she feels being bodied around by all the other people in the train. Great writing.

Sheldon

Cairo Tunnel: Reflections

This was a nice story.  It shows many details, including those of the Metro of Cairo and how the narrator started a bond with the strangers on the bus with her.  We can feel emotions alongside the narrator as she tells us how quickly the car is filling, what's happening as she's trying to leave, and, finally, how she and those with her can laugh and "have this in common."  It seems to say, at least to me, that no one's really different from another no matter their cultures.  (It's a moral I've heard often, so perhaps that explains that.)


Idida Z. Casado

Cairo Tunnel

This was a great short story. Everything was detailed. Everything. Even the fan which was only briefly mentioned was described as being dusty. The descriptions made me see and feel everything that was going on the story. It was hot, cramped, and sticky: a claustrophobic nightmare. I think that the best part of this story was how it really wasn't much of a story at all. It was a moment in time. She gets on the subway, she gets off the subway, that was it. Her descriptions and well written prose is what made it a satisfying read, even though nothing much happened.

Kayla Santos

Small Details Make a Good Lie–And Good Writing, Too

I felt the tiniest fraction of Amanda Fields' discomfort when I read "Cairo Tunnel." I've felt the heat, the sticky, the squish of body leaning on body while riding public trains in Turkey, or while stuffed into vehicles in the islands. Fields brought me back to these experiences. But how?

I think what did it for me were the small details. Not only did she pick insignificant details, ones that I probably wouldn't think to write about, but she did so in a creative and original manner, yet one that perfectly captured whatever image she wanted it to.

Some of the lines I liked were: "already bombarded with curled hands, wrapped over and bullying each other;" "we are like books on a shelf, supporting each other's weight;" and "a sea of women–we crest." There was also a powerful sentence that wasn't creative–merely well-chosen. "A single fan rotates." This detail is so simple, so banal, yet it completes the scene for me. Small details can make a lie believable; they can also add weight and authority to writing, too.

This article brings up another important point in writing: audience. I enjoyed reading this much more since I've experienced similar situations. I felt Field's experience not only because it was well-written, but because it was familiar. This experiential reading brings along with it emotions, physical sensations, and feelings of adventure and even nostalgia.

Fields writes well, yes, but I didn't think it was spectacular. No, her greatest attribute as I read this piece was chance; I happen to be know what it's like, and I also enjoy it. Know your audience. Write for them. Be deliberate and intentional. This is what I learned.

-Alexander Hirata

Some Bad Traffic

I thought my hometown Seoul had the worst public traffic. I could fell the heat and breath of people near me in a crowded subway as I read the piece. The language use is so vivid that I felt like being in a subway during rush hour--eww. The situations in the story is exactly like what people can experience in large cities. Has anyone here ever experienced getting on a bus or subway while worrying about pickpockets or sexual harassment by strangers? I have, whenever I am in Korea. But that was my home country. In the piece, Amanda Fields is experiencing it in a foreign country. The thing she most worries about being stared at because she is a foreigner. This is something I am familiar with, actually--Koreans tend to do this as well, even though less prominent nowadays. Nobody wants to be an exhibit in a foreign country. But it cannot be helped at times. At lease I was glad that the women she met in there were the nice ones.

The whole piece has a realistic feeling--being in a foreign country, culture shock, being stuck. Visualization of a text all depends on how much the writer can bring out the scene in great detail, yet not making the sentences long and tedious. Amanda Fields did an excellent job here and I felt like I was in Cairo subway for sure.

Hae-Lim Lee

Blog 5 by Ruthie Heavrin

Amanda Fields writes about a success in her efforts to adapt in a new culture. What's great about this piece is the surprise ending. Based on her negative language, the reader expects Fields to say something like, “Never ride the metro in Cairo,” as her conclusion but she instead makes a celebration of her benchmark. Fields is also using great imagery to show the great difficulties that come with Cairo traffic. I can personally attest to the horrendous noise that emanates from the street. There are so many vehicles that there are literally cars on the sidewalk. The drivers use their horns like signals. My Egyptian friend avoided the metro at all costs. If we had to go somewhere far, we took a mini bus then walked the rest of the way. Fields describes the cramped metro in a way that the reader can almost smell and feel the other passengers. Also, she includes a lot of information about Egypt without listing facts. The reader learns that Cairo has traffic issues, the women wear head scarves or burkas which indicates it is a Muslim city, and most women work low paying jobs. We also learn that there are some clear class differences as well as hygiene issues. Fields writes in an informative, yet interesting manner. Not all facts have to be boring. p.s. The photo for the article didn't make any sense.

To Cairo and Back

I am amazed at how much imagery and detail Amanda Fields is able to pack into such a short piece. Her mastery of the ability to show and not tell is apparent in every sentence. The shortness of the essay helps with that as well. When we are forced to cut to meet a word count (as Fields was forced to do) it almost always makes the language stronger. 

I read Fields' commentary about her piece (http://brevity.wordpress.com/2009/09/07/chipping-toward-the-center-the-art-of-brevity/) and what interested me was the first statement that her Metro experience was a happy one. It didn't necessarily seem like it, being crammed up against other women, one of them even laying her hands on Fields for balance, seemed awkward and uncomfortable. Her last sentences, however, reveal her emotions "And all the while, women are laughing. I am laughing," and it gives the piece almost an air of humor about the "sour breath" and "itchy cloth."

At the end of Fields' piece, I wanted it to continue. It was such a short slice of a moment and was so vivid, I was surprised when it ended. It felt abrupt, but it shows how a strongly worded piece, no matter how short can immerse a reader so effortlessly. I would have liked to see more of Fields' experiences in Cairo, but I suppose I will have to be content for now.

Justyne Marin

Sisterhood in Egypt

I really enjoyed this short story. It isn’t dramatic and mysterious (I do like dramatic and mysterious stories), but it has a warm subtlety that conveys a meaningful message to whoever reads the piece. It shows us the sisterhood found within women in Cairo, and perhaps women everywhere. No matter how drastically different one woman is from another, all women have one thing in common: their womanhood. Together we have the strength to support one another in a world that for so long has belittled us. Amanda Fields describes only her experience, but I believe such friendliness and understanding between women is found in other places in the world, too—in small or maybe large pockets of women thrown together by fate or God, all over the world.

Fields uses beautiful imagery to paint a vivid picture of the Egyptian Metro. The Metro “sighs open” (I loved that line—I can just imagine the machine’s hiss as its doors open); the “slums of Cairo whip by” (this shows us how quickly the Metro moves); a “fleeting space” opens in the pack of women—a rarity in the Metro. Flailing hands grab sweaty bodies and the tight sardine-packed mass holds itself up and keeps any women from falling. Fields, in one paragraph, describes her students’ warnings about the Metro, but as we learn (with her), that lower-class transportation system really is not so terrible. The women are helpful: there are no insults, no pinching of exposed flesh, no taunting or jeering at the foreigner on the Metro. There are only crinkled, gently smiling eyes and helpful nudges and prods.

It is a moving display of sisterhood, a bond that crosses any class, ethnic, religious, or racial differences. 

-Laura Strawn Ojeda