Thoughts on MOCKINGJAY

I really wanted to like Mockingjay. No, to put it more accurately, I wanted to finish the book and be utterly satisfied with the outcome of Katniss’ life. Because, along with so many of you, I’d grown to care deeply for the feisty teen. I wanted her to take out Snow (and Coin as well.) I wanted her to have a profound happily-ever-after with one of the boys she loved. I was even willing to be persuaded one way or the other although I leaned towards self-sacrificing Peeta just a bit. I wanted Prim to grow up to be an herbalist and healer. I wanted Buttercup fat and happy, Haymitch back on the wagon for good, and a cherry on top, please.

So did I like it? Did the novel, in fact, satisfy?

If you’ve read the novel, you know that what Ms. Collins delivered fell somewhat outside the purview of my expectations. So much so that it has taken six weeks for all my feelings to settle into something like an opinion. So here it is. Collins didn’t deliver either happily-ever-after or up-yours-Capitol the way I expected. Instead, she delivered what I’m going to call realistically-ever-after. Given everything that we know about how humans survive trauma, wartime, and devastating loss, the picture of Katniss rings absolutely true.

First the Capitol, and then Coin, spent untold effort trying to figure out how to complete unhitch and neutralize Katniss Everdeen. And they came so close to succeeding. It’s nothing short of miraculous that she retains a semblance of sanity after two rounds in the Arena, seeing her entire District destroyed because of her actions, watching as a warehouse filled with people she’s comforted are bombed, watching as her companions are horrifically slaughtered while she leads them towards Snow in the Capitol, and seeing her little sister burn to death before her eyes, and so many other horrors. A superhero could survive these things. A fictional character could survive these things. But what makes us love Katniss? She’s as true-to-life as they come. A real person—a person who loves and feels deeply—cannot experience these horrors without some degree of insanity, without some desire to end it all.

I agonized through the pages detailing Katniss’ mental derailment. Why? I kept asking. Why can’t I just have Katniss happy and married or happy and single or, well, just happy? Do I need this as a reader? Er, well, yes. Actually I do, if I value truth-telling. And that is what Collins gave me: not what I expected, not what I wanted, but Truth. The last paragraph, the last sentence—these are what reconcile me to the way in which Collins told Katniss’ truth:

I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty year.

But there are much worse games to play.

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Peeta Bread

Hmmm. Where'd summer disappear? Well, the good thing about nearing the end of summer is that MOCKINGJAY is releasing soon. Are you one of the people who still has HUNGER GAMES on their too-be-read list? This is a great week to start reading. Although next week would be better. And plan to take the day off because once you sit down with the first book, there's no getting up for any non-essential activities. In fact, it would be best if you just bought or borrowed all three books at once.

But I'm not here today to discuss the meritorious nature of Collins' books. Rather, I present you with a recipe: a small homage to Peeta Mellark, that savior of all things Katniss. In the novel, the bread is described as stuffed with raisins and nuts. My version is made with whole wheat since I'm guessing Peeta would have known that whole wheat would provide Katniss and family with more nutrition per bite.

Enjoy!

PEETA BREAD

In a large mixing bowl, combine:

3/4 cup warm milk (100-120 degrees)
2 cups warm water (100-120 degrees)
2 T. yeast
1/8 cup sugar

Stir once and let sit until yeast has proofed. (Become bubbly.)

Add to above mixture:

1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup loose-packed brown sugar
1 T. salt
3 cups whole wheat flour (fresh ground if you can grind it)
3 cups white flour or until sides of bowl are clean when mixing.

Mix together by hand or with dough hooks on a mixer until you have a beautiful dough. Knead in 1-2 cups walnuts and 1 cup raisins, 1/2 cup dried cranberries.

Often I add an additional cup whole wheat, but I live in a damp climate.

Let dough rise in an oiled, covered container until doubled. (1/2 hour to 90 minutes)

Divide dough in half. Form loaves and place in greased pans. Let rise in warm place, covered, until doubled.

Bake in preheated oven at 350 for 35 minutes.

For the full Katniss experience (which I do not recommend) you would avoid eating for a month before enjoying this delicious bread. And there's something about putting the loaf under your shirt that just sounds really painful as well. That's it. I need to re-read obviously.

Happy Baking while you wait for MOCKINGJAY! Tweet

Show, Don't Tell

I picked up a 1996 Newberry Honor Book after reading an interview with the author who had just published a fourth book in the series begun with The Thief (Megan Whalen Turner, Greenwillow, 1996.) Not a very inspired title, I thought, and the cover art on my library-borrowed edition gave nothing away. I got drowsy reading three successive nights in a row, forcing myself to make it through to the chapters' ends before turning off my light. And I rarely get drowsy reading. Still, I liked some of the quirks of the main character, and the book had been given a prestigious award, right?

I'm glad I stuck with it.

This is a story where things that you learn at the book's end force you to reconsider (and in my case, re-read) everything you thought you'd understood. The technique, done poorly, can antagonize even the most generous reader. But I don't think you'll feel angry at Turner for holding out on you. The great thing about telling the story this way is that you learn who the protagonist is even when you don't know what he is. (I'm sooooo avoiding a major spoiler here, trust me.) This writer understands the value of showing over telling.

As I re-read some of the early chapters that I'd found "slow," I began to notice the art in Turner's showing. Rather than tell us that the thief, Gen, is a handsome, rogue-ish fellow, Turner gives us a scene in which Gen charms the innkeeper, earning her smile where others in Gen's group earn her scorn. The interaction between innkeeper and thief further shows us important character traits. Gen speaks gently when he learns her son is in prison. He's insufferably haughty towards his fellows when she brings Gen, and only Gen, a lunch for the road. Now, it would have been so easy to just say on the first page that the thief's a fellow who behaves kindly towards the down-trodden, but acts arrogantly around those who think too well of themselves.

Turner doesn't.

The author holds her cards close, showing us Gen's behavior in an array of testing situations which allow Gen to learn what he's really made of. And we learn right alongside him. The author's gamble pays off; The Thief is a great coming-of-age read.

I highly recommend The Queen of Attolia and The King of Attolia, the next two books in the series. Have a box of tissues at hand or something you won't regret breaking when you throw it. (Let your knowledge of yourself direct you.) As for me, I'm off to the bookstore for the fourth in the series. Tweet

PARTY by Tom Leveen, Random House 2010

Okay. For starters it's set in Santa Barbara, California. Santa Barbara. *moans with nostalgia* And Leveen gets subtle things just right about the place, such as the fog in June and the fact that sometimes it's better to take De La Vina instead of State Street. Eating is a big deal when you are a high school student, and Leveen makes frequent stops at a variety of food joints. I got hungry for wheat-germ strawberry pancakes (which I don't even like) and killer burritos (which I do) and wondered if my old fave pizza place still exists.

So let's say you have zero personal connection to Santa Barbara. There's still a great chance you'll find this an immersive read. Eleven great chances, actually. Leveen recounts the twelve-or-so hours surrounding the party from eleven different points of view. All speak in first person and in present tense. While I've slogged through books where keeping things in present tense did not enhance the narrative, it absolutely works in PARTY. Much of the action takes place inside the characters' heads where the present tense reinforces the illusion that you are working through issues alongside the characters. Not to say the action stays in the characters' heads; there's an ugly fight, sex, a car accident, and a big, BIG party.

So how does Leveen sustain eleven different POVs? He creates unique back-stories and identities for each character, but many writers do that. What I really enjoyed about Leveen's characterizations can be found in the rhythm of their speech. With a couple of exceptions (which I'll address below), each person in the story speaks from a distinct perspective using decidedly individualized language. Which brings me to: potentially objectionable content. Several characters swear. A lot. This creates a high level of realism in the dialog, but the book will not be appropriate for every teen both because of the language and the frank portrayal of teen sexual and drinking behavior.

But to return to the dialogue. Where one teen uses every known curse-word with abandon, others refrain entirely, and one kid abbreviates his offensive language by using only the first letter of the word he has in mind. Some speak in grammatically correct sentences; others elide letters and syllables. The dialog (and in some cases, dialect,) is so accurate you'll swear Leveen followed these people around with a recording device. I kept thinking of Hamlet speaking to the players: "Now this overdone . . . though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve." No over-doings here. The dialog is brilliant.

So what are these eleven talking and thinking about? A party, certainly, but there's more going on in this novel than drinking, fighting, and getting laid. (One character's summary of what kids go to parties to do.) We watch them pass through transforming, redemptive experiences between sunset and sunrise. There are really, really, bad decisions made by some of these kids, but there's some amazing re-thinking, apologizing, and owning-up afterward.

I had to think hard to come up with a complaint about the book. I promised above to return to the exceptions to Leveen's success in creating eleven distinctive voices. So here's my only complaint. I found it tough to keep Tommy, Daniel, and Matt from mushing together in my head. In fairness, Matt doesn't get his own chapter. But Tommy and Daniel do, and I still had a hard time, while I read, remembering anything very distinguishing about either of them. Later it occurred to me that this could have been purposeful on the author's part; along with Ryan and Josh, Tommy-Daniel-Matt make a five-some who have spent years together. They have a lot in common and maybe we're supposed to notice similarities instead of differences.

Or maybe I just need to go back and have a second, slower read. Hmm, that sounds nice. And I think I'll go ahead and register for my class reunion in Santa Barbara this fall. Tweet

Cutting Hair

I did it. I went back to the pixie-short cut you can see on the right. After years of ponytailing and pulling the bundle of blond out of the turtleneck, I did it. And it feels GREAT! Honestly, what was I thinking, having thick, long hair in a climate like that of the Willamette Valley? Nothing ever really dries here, ya' know? So now I can dry this head o' hair in about 5 minutes, tops. WOW! Which means: more time for what I love! Books! Baking!

This week I'm reading The Nineteenth Wife set both in 1875 and the present. The dual-story keeps you from getting bored. I'm enjoying the multiple narrative techniques as well. The writer uses court depositions, diaries, pages from the Internet, and the first person narrative of the main character, a twenty-something boy/man. Still not entirely sure where the whole ball of wax is heading, but it is a fascinating look into plural marriages in the 19th and 21st centuries. Tweet