The Life and Death of Adolf Hitler

It is a strange phenomenon that James Giblin was able to write a biography about arguably the most evil man in history with such objectivity. Granted a biography ought to be objective, but at various points in the book I felt myself almost sympathizing with Hitler’s personal situation and his “Kampf.” We don’t often hear the whole story of Hitler’s existence – usually just the really horrible stuff. It isn’t until a person learns about the people around Hitler that he or she really begins to put things into perspective, and this book offers a very comprehensive analysis of the people, nations, and events that molded Hitler.

Giblin’s description of Hitler as a young man is very disturbing to me, and I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps it is because the character profile that comes across to the reader is similar to that of a psychopath or a serial killer. This could be bias on my part because I know about the old man he would turn in to. Nevertheless, this socially awkward, sickly, homeless, and withdrawn aspiring painter sent chills up my spine. It seems like all his life Hitler wanted to be known, to be famous and rich, but after being rejected to art school, he must have realized he needed a change.

I really didn’t know the extent to which WWI affected the German people, and how personal Hitler took this defeat. My sympathies towards Hitler came mostly from the chapter entitled “Corporal Hitler,” which narrates events from 1914-1918. In this chapter I took Hitler as a young idealist who bravely fought for his country. After WWI his aspirations weren’t predatory or overly nationalistic; he merely wanted the German people out of the economic rut and attitude of low morale that the war had instilled in them.

The book also offers – but refrains from trying to answer - plenty of interesting psychological insights. Did Hitler’s hatred of Jews stem from the fact that a Jewish doctor had “let” his beloved mother die? Though he survived, how much did the famous bomb placed under his table actually affect Hitler’s psyche and general health? Why did Hitler time after time ignore the opinions of his generals? Did Hitler really believe his small nation could be victorious fighting a two-front war, or did he not even really care, simply wanting to go down in history?

I felt that reading this book was really a personal achievement for me because even though I had considered myself at least somewhat knowledgeable in WWII history, I now know the story through the eyes of important European personages rather than the traditional American account of the war. I don’t think I necessarily learned anything new about the Holocaust in general, but the book did offer many reasons why the Holocaust came into existence. I am glad that Giblin didn’t spend too much time on the Holocaust because I have a feeling that most readers would consult other books for a comprehensive source.

I do wish, though, that Giblin would have lengthened the chapter called “Hitler Lives” because many interesting parallels can be seen in contemporary politics, both in America and abroad. Anti-Semitism isn’t unique to Hitler, and neither is world domination. Thousands of people still worship Hitler and dream of his fabled “master race.” I think that a more philosophical or comparative discussion at the end of the book could have brought these issues into the forefront. My favorite example of a tough question along these lines is the following: why do people look back at Alexander the Great’s world conquest as something noble or heroic and Hitler’s as something inherently evil?

The Circuit

The author – Francisco Jimenez – admits that his story is only semiautobiographical, but this fact doesn’t detract from the book’s authenticity. Part of me felt, while paging through this book, that once you’ve read one immigrant’s tale, you’ve heard them all, but this book was a bit different. I liked that the narrator, Panchito, places most of his focus on his family and surroundings, and doesn’t brood too much over his less than desirable situation. Panchito’s story is about overcoming slim odds, and trying to live the American dream, whatever that might mean to a minority trying to make it in the 1940s and early 1950s.

All too often when I read something that is regarded as multicultural literature, the author tells their story without actually giving the reader a sense of what their culture consists of, and how it is different from the majority’s. Many topics, like having a big family, being devoutly Catholic, maintaining a strong work ethic, etc. – shed light on Panchito’s family, and these details pull you into the narrative. Jimenez does a good job of using very short, descriptive, and declarative sentences that offered me a very quick reading experience, but at the same time it was very much to the point.

The power of language is very evident and important in the story. Pachito’s librito is an important symbol that can be made sense of in a multitude of different ways. It is basically a little crib sheet that contains pronunciations and meanings of English words that are difficult to pronounce or remember. Since Panchito spends a significant amount of time away from his English-speaking world, he comes back time and time again stunned after a few months of not speaking English, and feels embarrassed. Education is tremendously important to Panchito and his family, and Panchito is blessed with having several good, patient teachers.

The book ends, surprisingly, in the classroom, where the immigration officers take him away. I was shocked at this ending because their house had just burned down! I was certain that it would end on a high, happy note, but to no avail. I think this ending, actually, was very calculated on the part of Jimenez because it serves as a metaphor for being very close to fitting in to the United States, with so many hopes, dreams, and desires, but in the end feeling like an outcast because he wasn’t born in the U.S.

One possible objection I’d have to this book is the fact that several key Spanish terms are used without any explanation or translation on the part of the author. I am nearly fluent in Spanish, so I understood most things said in Spanish, but I also had to look up many words to get the correct gist. I feel that other readers not acquainted with Spanish would be missing out on some essential family dialogue.

All in all, I’d have to say that my favorite part of this story was its honesty and brevity. I said in the beginning that the narrator doesn’t brood over his situation, not asking for the reader’s sympathy. Panchito always has the attitude of overcoming adversity, and always keeps in mind whatever it is that he can do to help his family. As a small boy he tries to take up chores that he really isn’t physically capable of doing; he has the heart of an American, if you will, that ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ attitude, but the only thing keeping him and his family from the American Dream is the fact that they are Mexican Nationals – just trying to make a living.

The House of the Scorpion

I was a little intimidated when I saw that this book is almost 400 pages long. I usually don’t like science fiction novels, so I had to drink lots of coffee to make it go fast. To my surprise and delight, though, this book really sucked me in. Farmer ever so slowly reveals the big picture to the reader in kind of a Dan Brown way (which is awesome and infuriating at the same time). I immediately noticed elements of 1984 and A Brave New World in The House of the Scorpion. Society as we generally know it has undergone a significant change in the book, but human decency and universal values haven’t yet been extinguished.

It is one thing to clone animals, but to clone human beings will probably always be controversial. I’ve heard of black market organ farming in today’s world, but Matt’s entire existence rests on this reality. He is the exact clone of a powerful drug lord. El Patron’s original intensions are to keep Matt tucked away until he needs him for organs, but he actually takes a liking to him.

Matt isn’t a typical clone – most of them are kept in a brain-dead, vegetative state throughout their whole “lives,” but El Patron doesn’t want this for “himself.” There are also eejits, humans or animals that are programmed to do specific tasks – essentially robots made out of meat. For the first quarter or so of the book, Matt is full of compassion and wants to find out more about life, but when El Patron elevates his status by taking a liking to him, he acts somewhat cruel and conceited. Luckily for all of the subjugated people and animals on El Patron’s operation, Matt rises up through many different challenges and struggles to eventually inherit the property, shutting down the empire and turns the eejits into normal humans again.

I think the book had fluidity until the last pages because Farmer invites readers into this future world slowly and carefully. She isn’t over-descriptive of the scenes at hand, but provides enough detail to be authentic and original. It was strange at first, but in order to understand Matt’s mind, you have to think like him, which is difficult because he isn’t a normal human being. He has been shut up in a house his whole life, and really has no idea what or who he is or what the world is like.

I have a feeling that this book wouldn’t be conducive to a classroom because of its length. I would for sure recommend this book to my students that like science fiction, but I think that some readers could get bogged down easily with this book and lose interest. I think that Feed would be a better science fiction choice.

I’m not sure to what age group The House of the Scorpion is directed, but I think it could only work for 11^th or 12^th graders. It’s not that the ideas or subject matter isn’t fit for lower grades, but because the book is long, it has a very complicated plotline that I even thought was confusing. Nevertheless, I like strange books, which this book definitely is, and I think that other people do too. Originality is important in choosing a good book, and Farmer goes above and beyond to achieve this.

Feed

I left M.T. Anderson’s Feed half finished when I was volunteering at Patrick Henry High School in North Minneapolis, and, luckily, the opportunity to finish the book arose from taking this class. I had a scheduling conflict that didn’t allow me to volunteer there when my class of high-schoolers finished the book, but I did get the chance to go with them to hear M.T. Anderson speak about literature while promoting his new book (Feed) at the Minneapolis Public Library. M.T. was an incredibly witty and funny guy, and the students really enjoyed listening to him. It came as no surprise to me that he was a quirky guy since what I had seen in Feed was so delightfully strange.

We actually listened to the book in class on an audio CD, which really contributed to the book’s comical edge. This was especially true for the recurring advertisements that play in the characters’ heads. The audio book’s reader also performed the characters as I think M.T. would have wanted them performed – whiny, somewhat naïve, needy, and fully of futuristic slang. This book lent itself to some awesome conversations about the future, technology, and other science fiction sort of inquiries in my classroom. We talked about Anderson’s comment about how he actually came up with the idea of advertising products directly into a person’s head when he was in New York City walking by a department store: he all of the sudden received a text that gave a preview of the store’s prices and bargains. “Pretty scary stuff,” he said.

Regarding the slang words and vocabulary of the young characters in the book, Anderson described how much slang actually evolves over the decades. When he was young, words like “rad” or “righteous” were hip, but today they aren’t necessarily. He included this formula for his science fiction novel, and I’ve seen students respond positively to this technique.

The two antipodes of the novel are clearly Titus and Violet. Titus isn’t as obnoxiously futuristic as his friends, but he is still pretty clueless and very naïve. He undergoes a significant change when he meets Violet – a girl who would probably fit in just fine in 2009. She is sort of a hippy, free spirit. She is ultra conscious about human’s terrible treatment of the environment, and was even home schooled. Titus, on the other hand, received his education from School™, which is a sort of inter-cerebral University of Phoenix of the future. Violet doesn’t really fit in with Titus and his friends because she doesn’t have the feed, and therefore isn’t a blind consumer like them.

Like any good science fiction book, Feed sheds light on the problems of today. Anderson claimed that even while writing the book some of the futuristic technologies sort of came true. If you use a program like Facebook, for example, it will advertise things according to your interests – just like the feed. Technologies such as Bluetooth and the Iphone are also reminiscent of Anderson’s ideas.

Overall, I really liked Feed because I got to see how students react to it, and also had the chance to meet the author. This is most definitely a book that a person couldn’t just pick up and read and understand the author’s intent. A reader needs to understand that it is satire, but serious satire, and comedy, but a serious comedy that touches on real-life, pressing issues that our society faces.

Skellig

There’s something about books with short chapters that really makes you tear through them. Not only this, but the general storyline and amount of mystery that Almond implements in his narrative create a vivid, intriguing picture that demands to be figured out. The narrator is Michael, a young boy who starts his tale off by letting us know how dissatisfied he is with life. There are a number of problems in his life, including the stress of his family’s recent move and the premature birth of his baby sister, which leads to her having to frequent the hospital. After he discovers a creature in his garage, the reader is guided through Michael’s world.

Because it is kind of a short novel, I think that Almond chose the appropriate amount of main characters to develop. There are supporting characters like Michael’s mom and dad, who aren’t really developed that much but serve a definite narrative purpose, Michael’s friends Leaky and coot, who are ruffians that provide a bit of humor, and of course Michael’s quirky teachers, who all seem to have strange, humorous names: Rasputin, Miss Clarts, and Monkey Mitford. All of these characters play in to the narrative, but we don’t get to know them intimately like Michael, Mina, and Skellig.

The second most important character is Mina, a precocious, home-schooled neighbor girl. At first I thought a sort of romance would develop between the two, but she turns out to be a great friend that helps Michael through tough times while teaching him about life, the world, and himself. She is a naturalist of sorts, as well as a lover of poetry, namely William Blake. Blake’s poetry shows up numerous times in the book, often serving as a guide to Michael’s (and the reader’s) discoveries. Almond – I think – uses Blake’s biography as either a distraction that leads readers to believe that the Skellig is an angel, or to at least suggest the possibility of the existence of angels or strange beings. We learn that Blake saw angels in his yard, and would paint them and compose poetry inspired by them. The connection between Michael’s strange sightings and Blake’s experiences is made obvious, and we are left to decide for ourselves what Skellig actually is.

After reading through some of the supplemental material at the end of the book, I know now that Almond purposely leaves the question of who or what Skellig is up to the reader. Almond does this in a way that is very unique. I’ve already discussed the religious foreshadowing in my discussion about Blake, but the other side of the coin is revealed by the book’s interesting play on evolution. We are taken into Michael’s science classroom a bit, where the topic of evolution is presented to the class, and we are also taken into Mina’s world of animals. She is ornithologist at heart, and birds of all kinds show up frequently in all part of the book.

So how are we, as readers, to make sense of Skellig’s special affinity to birds? Why do the owls take care of him? It’s all one, big mystery, which I love and hate at the same time. So, as I implied earlier, the Skellig is the third most important character. At first he is a vulgar, unhappy, dirty, needy, and sick creature laying in a disheveled garage, but then turns into a compassionate creature that clearly saves Michael’s baby sister. In this light, I’d read him as a fallen or lost angel – but then again Mina theorizes that he could be a dinosaur or an ancient descendent of birds – or even a more highly evolved human. There is a motif in the novel about shoulder blades, and what they are “actually” for. Michael takes it on faith, later on, that they are where our wings once were or will be. But yet again, we never know for sure!

So, all in all, I liked the book and its strange use of mystery and uncertainness. I think that other, younger readers wouldn’t exactly appreciate finishing this book and never knowing exactly what Skellig is, but as a teacher there are probably ways around this sentiment. I would argue that the point of this book isn’t to figure this mystery out, but rather to question one’s own beliefs and worldviews. For a book aimed at younger readers, I was blown away at how sneakily the topics of aesthetics, evolution, and poetry were weaved into the narrative. This book is a great read, and an even better conversation/discussion starter.

Troy

I chose to read Troy because last summer I went out and bought The Iliad on audio book, and listened to it from start to finish in my car. It was read by a really good actor who I thought very accurately performed the story as it was meant to be experienced. Looking back after reading the novel Troy, I realize just how machismo and bellicose Homer’s tale actually is, and how much women must dislike it! Just kidding. Geras’ story is quite different than the traditional telling of the story because for one, it isn’t written as poetry, but rather in novel form, and also, we are given the perspective of many different people of Troy, most of them being women. Using a feminist lens, this book really lends itself to analysis.

It took me quite awhile to get into this book, but once I did I really enjoyed it. It wasn’t until the love triangle of Xanthe, Marpessa, and Alastor occurred that I started to realize what was going on, or what the author’s intentions might be. Geras did a good job keeping my attention because I tend to enjoy stories that are a bit dirty or lusty, and this epic love story between two sisters and a wounded soldier doesn’t dissapoint. One thing I noticed immediately is that nearly every woman in Troy is completely sexualized by the men of Troy. It seems like in order to be a good man in Troy, one needs to be a good, well-built soldier, but to be a good woman, one must be beautiful.

While the war rages on for all those years, the people inside the walls must try to keep on living their lives. Strangely enough, as though intervening in the war wasn’t enough fun, the Gods intervene in the lives of ordinary people. Eros makes Xanthe fall in love with Alastor, and then Aphrodite makes her sister Marpessa do the same. All this happens while the poor stable boy Iason is desperately in love with Xanthe. Most of the elements from The Illiad are preserved, but a lot of the focus is taken off of major characters like Odysseus, Achilles, and Hector and placed on other, more minor characters and women of Troy. I was surprised that Geras could get away with only giving one or two pages to Achilles’ death, but when I read on I knew that it didn’t matter much.

The part of this book I will never forget involves Marpessa and her pregnancy. The love between her and Alastor seems real at first, and the passion that they show each other seems authentic, but after Alastor admits that he is betrothed to another so nonchalantly, I was stunned right along with Marpessa. Marpessa then thinks about having an abortion to rid herself of anything Alastor, and even buys the poison for it. This is all in vain, though, for she has a miscarriage anyway.

One major thing that I didn’t like about the novel was the ending. It seemed very foggy to me, and even though the sisters are reunited, it gave me little closure. I realize that Geras didn’t really have too many options since she couldn’t deviate from the inevitable end of Troy to maintain authenticity, but I feel she could have been more creative. Another smaller thing that I didn’t like was the shear length! Although some of the more trivial or insignificant parts of the book were interesting, I felt that they robbed the plotline, which could have been more exciting if the author cut out, say, 100 pages.

I knew that it would be incredibly hard to write a response for such a thick novel with so many different characters and subplots. All in all though, I really enjoyed the book. One question I will always have about this book is whether a person who is unfamiliar with The Illiad would appreciate this book. My short answer is “no,” but only by conjecture.

10/26

Kira-Kira

Cynthia Kadohata’s novel really reminded me of A Step From Heaven because it too tells the tale of Asian Americans struggling in the United States. Although A Step From Heaven was well written, I didn’t really have a personal connection to it because like Kira-Kira the protagonist is a young female. It’s not that I’m unable to connect with a female writer or protagonist, it’s just that the issues that Katie Takeshima relates in her narrative about her years as a young girl don’t ring familiar or interesting to me. Anyhow, I think that I liked this book much more than A Step From Heaven because the family element to the story is much more vivid, dramatic, and believable. There are a few structural/thematic elements that I believe really strengthen the emotional output of the book.

First, even though it is Katie that is the protagonist and narrator, the reader is presented with her older sister Lynn’s diary pages that are handwritten. This technique lends authenticity and depth to the character of Lynn, and gives the reader a glimpse into her imagination as she relates memorable moments – both happy and sad – that tie into Katie’s story.

Second, every once in a while Katie’s traditional narration is broken when she lists events or ideas in numerical order. When her family is packing up to head to Georgia from Iowa, she lists all of the things that went wrong or missing, which provides a comical effect. Later, this same technique of listing things in order reads almost like poetry. She lists the things she sees, hears, and feels.

And lastly, the way that Kadohata describes everyone in the family and other minor characters is really great. There isn’t much said about Katies aunt and uncle, but from the little that she does say I had a totally clear picture in my head. I think that she is so successful in her descriptions because she uses humor, wit, and short, declarative sentences that keep building upon one another. When describing her mother’s pregnancy I laughed a bit because Katie – being the curious child that she is – notices that her mother has been acting strange lately. She says that her mother is peeing more, feeling sick in the morning, and also eating barbeque sauce by the spoonful and making sure that there are many back-up jars in the pantry. All of this seems strange enough, but then Katie finds out that her mother is pregnant with her baby brother, and the mystery is solved!

Like any book about a culture different than your own, I liked learning a little bit about Japanese culture. I learned that a Kibei is someone who was born in the United States, but is sent to Japan to be educated. Both Katies parents and her uncle are Kibei. Also, when the family is getting acquainted with Southern life, they see some Native Americans. Katie’s father tells her that in Japan they too have their own “Natives.” He tells her that the Ainu people from Northern Japan are in a very similar relationship to Japan. Speaking of other cultures, one last thing I enjoyed was Katie’s description of Southern English, and how she too eventually started speaking like them, calling her sister “Lee Uhn” instead of Lynn.

If I had any personal connection to this book it would be due to the very accurate way in which Kadohata describes the grieving process. Lynn falls ill halfway through the book, but I never saw her end coming. Lynn, Katie’s bright, beautiful, and promising sister dies from Anemia, and her family is very much shaken up by it. My dad died when I was ten, just about the age that Katie was when her sister died, and I feel that her emotional response rang very true.

A Northern Light

The core mystery of Jennifer Donnelly’s fictional piece is driven by actual events, but the power of her narrative stems from something quite different. The first person narrator is Mattie Gokey, a young woman who offers readers the chance to look at the early 20^th century through an aspiring young writer’s eyes. The effect is stunning because she so eloquently relates her story’s events in a realistic and extremely descriptive way without seeming too prosy or pretentious. Her imagination is that of a seasoned writer even though she is a poor farm girl with limited resources to develop her gifts.

As an English major I particularly enjoyed the copious amounts of literary allusions. She compares her reality to the reality of great stories of the past in a way that expands the general plot structure. She implicitly asks herself how Jane Austin would have handled a certain situation, and gives props to Shakespeare, Milton, Twain, Stoker, and a slew of other writers by weaving their character’s perspectives on life into her own thoughts, fancies, and aspirations. The most relevant and meaningful literary allusion comes when she compares her own life to that of Emily Dickenson’s: she asks herself “Why didn’t Dickenson ever go get married?” She at first comes to the conclusion that she must have felt cooped up in her fathers house and lonely, but later realizes that her isolation from the demands of traditional life offered her immense freedom, reasoning that she couldn’t have written such great poetry with a husband, children, a farm, and all of the elements of a normal daily grind.

The structure of Donnelly’s novel, in my eyes, takes on the traditional format of a mystery or detective story. She introduces the strange death of Grace Brown as something tied to her own fate, which begs the reader to keep reading until this mystery is solved. This death is introduced early on in the book, but then takes a back seat to Mattie’s own struggles and accomplishments. The effect that is born from this structure is that the more we get to know Mattie, the more we get to know Grace Brown and her fate. I ended the book – like a reader probably should – feeling that if Mattie hadn’t gone to New York she would have suffered a similar fate, although symbolically; her talents would have died along with her individuality and search for personal identity. Her mother’s death also ties into this dynamic in that people in her town said that her mother died from working too hard, even though she actually died of cancer. Whenever Mattie talks about her mother, the reader can feel the immense pain she feels at her loss, and also the determination to not end up like her.

Another element of the book that I like is, I admit, sort of cheesy, but I particularly liked the lusty sort of romance between the country bumpkin Royal and the intellectually seasoned Mattie. Even though it doesn’t work out with them in the end, the tremendous passion that the two lovers show each other is very realistic. I guess passion is probably what Mattie would have called it (taking examples from romantic literature), while Royal might have called it lust and practicality. He never seems all that into her personality, and even mocks it at times, although he enjoys her body and at first kind of forces himself on her. The practicality part comes from the fact that her father’s farm borders Royal’s family farm, and that every farmer needs a wife.

The last element of the book I liked was Weaver’s story. As an African American he faces racial discrimination even though he is a brilliant young man, much like Mattie. His mother is a strong female character who shows tremendous responsibility and kindness because she has been saving up for her son to go to college – money that is, sadly, stolen from them by bigots. Even though Weaver’s story isn’t seen through, one gets the feeling that he does attend Columbia someway or some how.

All in all I really enjoyed this book. When I read the back cover I thought I was going to hate it. I think what put me over the edge is that my grandparents lived a similar lifestyle as farmers in Minnesota in the early 20^th century. Donnelly paints this era with precision, truth, and vividness that can’t be denied.