Literature Friends are the very best friends...

So I’m currently sitting in a Starbucks in Maryland waiting for an old friend to arrive; I decided to try and get here early so I could chat with someone on Skype and attempt to write a blog post before going to Sean’s tonight.  It’s mostly out of fear, since Sean is pretty much the only person who encourages me to blog – he also reads all my posts and if I get this done before I see him, he’ll know it exists without me even telling him.  I had no idea what I was going to write about, but since I just came from Sunday Funday (and hangover Monday) with Richard, I want to write about my friends.

Let me be more specific: I want to write about my literature friends.  We all have friends that fall into different categories and we all have friends that serve different purposes in our lives.  Some are people we like to go out and drink with, some are shopping friends, or music friends, or work friends, but I have a select group of friends that are my literature friends.  We talk about books, we exchange suggestions, we argue about the value of one author over another, and we nerd out together.  The majority of my friends do enjoy reading (I’m obnoxious like that), which makes me very lucky, but there are a few that truly are my literature friends.  I trust their recommendations more than anyone else, and they rarely steer me wrong.

The 52 books that comprised the original reading list for the blog (I swear I will eventually get to all of them!) were a compilation of suggestions from friends and family members.  Those that weren’t direct suggestions from people were still often through word of mouth; I remembered someone (maybe I couldn’t remember who, but I knew it was someone!) who had read the book and really enjoyed it.  I love when my friends get me books as presents; it has to be a careful selection, but when someone gives me a book I end up loving I feel like they know the truth of me. 

There is also something magnificent about sharing a favorite book with a friend.  That’s an instant connection that cannot be replicated.  My dad and I both LOVE The Stand (the unabridged edition, obviously) and it’s something we share.  We talk about it, we discuss movie options and make jokes about characters.  Diana and I shared a physical copy of A Movable Feast (sorry for stealing it for so long, novia!), Richard and I shared every English class at McDaniel (for three years, I think!). I shared David Sedaris with a friend from work – really though, I read his stories OUTLOUD to him one day after school.  That’s how great my friends are.

But in honor of Sean, one of my best literature friends (and all around friend), I want to share my favorite book-nerd-friendship story.  My senior year of college I was ridiculously overwhelmed by senior seminar, student teaching, and the impending fear of adulthood.  Sean called me to calm me down – standard best friend behavior – but then he went one better.  He read to me.  Over the phone.  He read a chapter from what has now become one of my favorite books to me over the phone from another state.  He told me to calm the f*ck down and shut the f*ck up and he read to me.

Nothing better.

 

 

The book, in case you were wondering, is Bird By Bird, which I use when I teach.  My 7^th graders gave me a copy when I was finished student teaching.  They had all signed it.  It’s currently at my friend Joe’s house because I’m passing on the same thing Sean gave me.  Also I have two of his books that I need to read and return.  I love my literature friends, but I am SO BAD at keeping track of the books we all pass around.

This is a post about Gatsby, old sport.

If you know anything about me, you KNEW this post was coming.  If you don't know anything about me, I'm sure if someone had asked you 'what is Leah excited about, movie-wise?' you would eventually have guessed at the answer.

Gatsby.  The GREAT Gatsby.  The greatest Gatsby (according to Stephen Colbert).  That old sport Gatsby.  Okay, I'm done now.  As a heads up, this post contains a crazy amount of spoilers, because I am about to go HAM on The Great Gatsby.

If you've never read the book, you need to go get a copy.  Right now.  Obviously, I'm a supporter of the book-is-better-than-movie movement, but I will always admit when the movie is just as good.  I'm a big fan of both the novel and the film version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, for example.  Different perspectives, a different take on the story, but each is equally magnificent in its own right.  That's partially why I love the Harry Potter movies (and even the film version of To Kill A Mockingbird); they are not better than the novel, they are not even as good as the novel, but as a stand alone film (or series), there is something magnificent about those films.  If I separate myself from the novels, I can appreciate them in isolation.  I love them, but I'll always choose the book.  And I am the person who leans over in the middle of a scene and whispers that's not what happened in the book!  Ugh, I'm so obnoxious!

But back to Gatsby (Gatsby?  What Gatsby?) and the beauty that is Fitzgerald's novel.  I had the insane luck to actually teach the book twice this year to my 20th Century Lit seniors, and I have to be honest, the second time around was a much better experience.  That's true of all teaching -- the first time through might not be a total disaster, but it's not going to be pretty.  I don't think I did the book justice first semester, but this time through, I was ready to roll.  The impending release date of the film was a good selling point, but I focused on the story this time around.

That sounds weird.  What I mean is that we just read the book.  Obviously we looked at symbolism and the use of colors (our study of Daisy's name as a metaphor was the reason they laughed so much at the Colbert clip I linked above), but when you have 27 students who simply don't read (EVER), your priorities shift.  I wanted them to love the book, not feel overwhelmed by it.  I read a lot of the book out loud to them, for some of the same reasons I read the majority of part one in Mockingbird to my 10th graders.  My personal inflections and intonations, and even just my awkward pauses, made the book come alive.  Not my skills as a reader, mind you -- although I do LOVE reading to people.

As an avid reader and a student of English literature, I often forget that they way I read is not normal.  Many of my students struggle just to understand the words on the page, which doesn't allow much freedom to read between the lines, understand the humor, or just enjoy a story.  It has nothing to do with technology or generational gaps, but instead is just a sign of how little people read.  When reading is not part of a daily routine, it does become more difficult and boring.  And I didn't want that for my students.

So I read to them.  And you know what?  I found a deeper understand of the novel through my reading.  The reunion between Daisy and Gatsby is so tense and awkward and hilarious, and I recognized it in a way that wasn't always so clear on my own readings.  It was simple for me to pause in the middle of a chapter and Tarantino it (as one of my students dubbed the technique), going back through the plot points, rereading sections until they understood what was happening.  Some of them followed along, some just sat and listened (two of them fell asleep most of the time), but they became enthralled by the strange and twisted lives of the characters.  By the time we hit the second party at Gatsby's, I was able to tell them to read the rest on their own.  Some of them had already finished it, and were completely devastated by the ending.

So what does all of this have to do with the film?  Well, The Great Gatsby is a visually stunning novel -- wait, wait, hear me out -- even though it's not a visual.  The use of color in the book is overwhelming at times, always symbolic, always important, always memorable.  The green light, the yellow car, the scarlet walls, the white dresses, Gatsby's gold tie.  The descriptions are simple but done with a finesse that is distinctly Fitzgerald.  He is able to waltz his characters from scene to scene, location to location, party to party, without missing a beat.  This, in theory, should transfer easily to the big screen but it doesn't.  The novel is not meant to be a film.  It's like the 5th Harry Potter, The Order of the Phoenix; it's so much inside Harry's own thoughts, and that makes for a pretty shitty movie.  No one wants to listen to 3 hours of straight narration!  The novel is told through flashbacks and introspection from Nick, and he's annoying enough as it is.

But I was still excited.  It's Leo.  And Baz.  And I was going in with low expectations because no movie has ever been able to capture the novel.  Did it do justice to what is arguably one of the most iconic American novels?  Ehhh, not quite, but it was close.  And here's why.  If Gatsby were to make a movie about himself to show Daisy, it would be this version.  Minus the weird screaming angry scary Gatsby parts (WTF was that????).  It's corny and romanticized and over the top and loud and glitzy and cost wayyyy too much money to make and... wait a minute, didn't I just describe ALL OF GATSBY'S LIFE AFTER DAISY MARRIED TOM AND HE TRIED TO WIN HER BACK BY MAKING MONEY AND THROWING LAVISH PARTIES AND BASICALLY JUST BY BEING A CREEPY AWKWARD WEIRDO????  I mean, I'm just saying, but really...

I think people want to hate the movie because it's the type of movie 'literary types' aren't supposed to like.  We are expected to scoff at the plebs who haven't read the novel and don't understand the magnitude of this film, those who just like the Jay-Z soundtrack because they can't appreciate jazz, we are expected to ridicule those who aren't as educated or cultured as we, the civilized types... wait a minute, didn't I just describe TOM BUCHANAN'S DOUCHBAGGARY AND THE EAST EGG WEST EGG DIVIDE????  I mean, I'm just saying, but really...

I liked the over the top moments, and the fireworks that exploded when he told Nick "I'm Gatsby" because it just felt so appropriate to what the novel is really about.  Decadence, materialism, reality verses fantasy... the movie is unbelievable because Gatsby himself is unbelievable.  Was it perfect?  HELL NO.  Was it pretty effing good?  Absolutely. I'll give it a solid B.  It lost points because of the funeral scene, and the fact that Klipspringer never called to get his tennis shoes back.  It's the little things, I suppose.

I waited 5 years for this movie to be released and.. wait a minute, didn't Gatsby wait for Daisy for five years?     Dammit, Baz, you sneaky devil.

To Kill A Mockingbird is the greatest book in the entire world, maybe.

AH-HA!  It has not yet been a year since I last posted (although it is, in fact, dangerously and pathetically close to being a year).  I wasn't sure when my last post was from, but it was August of 2012 and 'I can explain.'  I feel like a teenager caught in the act -- I can explain!

Basically I got a job.  A fake job.  A sort-of job that may or may not be a job next year.  I'm a long term substitute for the entire year, and here's hoping for something real (aka contract based) for next year.  Between that and school my life is crazy.  Really that's all bullshit excuses and I totally let this blog slide.  And I suck. But I'm back, bitches!

In honor of my first post back after my unannounced and completely unnoticed hiatus -- all my followers are currently confused because they didn't even realize I hadn't posted in months upon months -- I want to talk about To Kill A Mockingbird, or, as I like to call it, TKMB.  My students have pointed out on numerous occasions that TKMB doesn't actually work and it should be TKM or TKAM, but screw 'em.  TKMB is easier to type.

My tenth graders finished reading TKMB this past week, and almost all of them ended up loving the novel.  I mean, they could be lying in their final journal entries for the book, but they are a pretty opinionated group of students and normally have no issue with 'real talk.'  Many of them felt like the beginning (or all of Part One) was boring and stupid, but once the trial started they were hooked.  And they should have been hooked -- that book is an emotional whirlwind once you hit Tom Robinson's trial, and me crying in front of them when I read the last three chapters out-loud has most likely scarred them for life, but who cares?  I love that book, goddamn it, and I'm so thrilled that they loved it, too.

TKMB is a pretty common read for high school students, and it's arguably one of the better books that is assigned in the high school curriculum.  I've rarely had students hate the entire book, and it's inspired some pretty intense discussions at the various grade levels I've taught.  I've only had a handful of parent complaints regarding language (the n-word is pretty prevalent throughout), but those parents had never read the book, so STFU about it.  I didn't actually tell parents to shut the f*ck up, but I did suggest they read the novel along with the student and see if the language was still an issue.  Unsurprisingly, I never got a second complaint, but I think that might be because reading is hard.  Or something.  Go with it.

I'm being rather hyperbolic when I say TKMB is the greatest book in the entire world, maybe.  I'm pretty uncomfortable with superlatives (you could say I'm more uncomfortable than most... GETIT???), and I can't narrow down my own list of favorite anythings to a 1. 2. 3. ranking, but I will say that TKMB is a unique book in its own greatness.  It's not my favorite book, but it really is a great one.

When I read TKMB in 8th grade, I was hooked.  I loved Scout and I loved Dill and I loved Boo Radley and Atticus.  It was a book unlike anything else I'd read in school up to that point, and I read voraciously, comparing my literary ability to Scout's the entire time.   I was fully invested in class discussions (I think... maybe I wasn't, but I'm very talkative, so I assume I was), but I completely forgot about the book for several years.  Well, I didn't forget about it, but I didn't spend much time contemplating the story.  However, when I was starting my internships for teaching I was thrown into an 8th grade class that was halfway through the novel and I reread the book to refresh my memory.

Holy Hell.

What TKMB offers that many other books do not (some other books do, but don't fight me on this) is a new story every single time.  EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.  I felt simultaneously like I was revisiting an old friend and meeting a completely new one; the story was the same, but the story was completely new.

TKMB is a book that never ever ever ever gets old, and it honestly gets better each time I read it.  I saw new patterns in the story telling; I learned new information about characters; I saw subtle foreshadowing and more complex flashback; I fell more in love with Atticus and saw his flaws more clearly; I had found a new way to enjoy an old book.  I read it again the next year, again during a student teaching internship and had the same reaction.  Old and new book, all wrapped in one.  Each time I read the book, the intricacies with which Harper (we're on a first name basis here) crafted the novel impress me more and more.  I still cry at the same moments, but I cry for totally different reasons each time.

But even better, my students feel the same way.  I was lucky enough to have a handful of tenth graders who had moved from a district that reads the book earlier, and although that normally causes a problem with discussion and analysis, I asked them to pay close attention to what changed for them from the first reading.  Their perspective was incredible -- some stayed after class to talk to me about how much better the book was the second time through, how the beginning of the novel didn't seem boring anymore, how they never noticed certain character traits or details, and how they understood why I never got tired of reading the book.  Some of them even noticed things I'd never considered before, brilliant insights that didn't occur to the English major, graduate student, teacher, but struck a 15 year old with such immediate clarity.

What other novel can offer such a powerful connection and reaction at all age levels?  When I read to my classes on Wednesday, I warned them in advance I might get emotional -- and my four classes of 15 and 16 year old hooligans didn't bat an eye.  They understood exactly why, and when my voice cracked while reading "Thank you for my children, Arthur," I saw a few of them wiping their eyes along with me.  The anger, frustration, disillusionment, amusement, elation, and joy they felt over those 31 chapters is something that doesn't happen in most of the assigned reading for high school students.

TKMB is one of my favorite books to teach, even if it's not my favorite book.  Students often love the novel, which is rare (trust me, English is generally the least favorite subject of them all).  If you haven't read the book since high school, pick it up when you have a free weekend.  Honestly.  It may not be the greatest book in the entire world, but maybe it is.

I just found this after posting!  Edited to add a KICK ASS PICTURE!!!

Leah Reads and Reads and Tweets.

I despise the word 'tweet.' I told Anthony last night that I had seen a 'tweet on Twitter, and then I retweeted it,' and it made me throw-up a little in my mouth. See, I'm not a huge fan of Twitter. I tried it a few years ago when I got my first smart phone, and although it was fun for a while, it got overwhelming -- I also had a few friends that overused Twitter. I don't need minute by minute updates on Big Brother. FERNANDO. I stopped using it completely after 5 or 6 months.
Earlier this summer, I took an online graduate class through my undergrad (it was painful, but I won't go into it here so I don't piss anyone too important off) about technology and education. You might have seen the Reading Survey from my last post -- feel free to continue to answer the questions! -- which was an assignment for my class. I took away some valuable knowledge of online tools and social networking, but much of it was overwhelming and confusing, even though I don't think of myself as too out of touch.
In class, I had to start a Twitter account; rather than reopen my previous account, I started a new one which I figured I'd link to this blog once class was over. I used it just enough to meet the class requirements, but since the class has been over, I've been trying to update every so often. I'm not sure if it's a good idea to have a Twitter linked to my blog, especially when many of my Tweets have to do with me watching Trash-TV, but I'm attempting to follow those in publishing and literary fields, as well as post relevant news articles and information. The thing that makes me crazy, though, is the 140 character limit.
As someone who values writing, I looked into teaching tools revolving around Twitter. One, from Kelley Gallagher's book Write Like This, has students writing 140 character memoirs, similar to the 6 word memoir contest inspired by Hemingway's 6 word short-story:

Mr. Hemingway

For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn. 

Brilliant, right? I love Hemingway. I know, I mention that anytime I have the chance -- I spent about an hour last night telling one of Anthony's friends about how much I love Hemingway -- but I really do. I appreciate his brevity. Faulkner (love him, too) once commented that Hemingway "has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." Hemingway, true to form, shot back "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"
It's true, though. In a digital text world where everyone has the opportunity to self-publish, what kind of writing becomes significant? What kind of writing becomes the standard, the most accessible, the most convenient? As a teacher -- and as a writing tutor in college -- there's little more frustrating that a student who has clearly shift-F7ed a word (for you Mac users, that opens the thesaurus) and has no idea what the new word actually means, because, hey! It's a big word, it must be good!
Although Twitter makes standard grammar and usage rules less desirable due to the shortened character limit, does it provide a useful writing tool for students? In forcing the author to be concise and to the point, is the 'main idea' a more relevant teaching and writing tool? I think Twitter can help us pay attention to the important details. Hemingway's story is 6 word, but it has a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Readers have the basic plot. Does it matter what color shoes? No, because that's not the point to the story.

From Ordeal by Cheque

As a personal experience, rereading Tweets can be an interesting take on a life story. I'd be interested to read, as a form of memoir, Twitter posts over the course of one year. I've used a great non-traditional short story, Ordeal by Cheque, at the start of certain English classes. It's a story told by checks written over the course of several years. Readers must make inferences to get the full story by paying attention to important details; what's being purchased, the amounts, the date, the handwriting, the name, and other important information. Much like social networking, where people often post passive-aggressive messages, can't we 'read' that information, also?
As I forge into the Twitter world, I want to think about the idea of social media memoir -- how our posts, tweets, status updates, and other various forms of updating and communicating that takes place over a full day -- reflects our life story. So follow me on Twitter! I'm still not sure what I'm doing, or how I can really make it a Leah Read's Twitter, but I love seeing how other people are using the website to write their lives.

Follow me: @LeahIsReading

Reading Survey

For my grad class this summer, we have to create and share a form on Google Docs. In order to make this a really relevant and interesting assignment, I've decided to base it on reading. We're discussing the technology behind a form (and how it can be used for educational practices) but, if you have 5 minutes to spare, I'd love for my readers -- who are sometimes readers! -- to complete the questions. Thanks!