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.

The People Could Fly and Aesop's Fables

The People Could Fly

The single most important element of this collection of folktales, to me, is that the stories are very different than what the average reader is used to. The language is deeply personal, real, and provincial. I enjoyed reading through this collection, but after I finished I realized how much better the stories would be if read by a skilled reader. Most of the stories are powerful because of slight changes in intonation and the rising and falling of varied inflection.

It is sometimes hard to blend genres, but this collection accomplishes this feat with ease. What I mean is that most of the tales are both extremely funny and witty while simultaneously dark and horrific. Unlike Aesop’s fables, in the first half of this book (the stories that are mostly about animals) there really isn’t a clear moral message at the end to sum the stories up. The “meaning” of each story is drawn from the reader’s own emotional attachment to the very human characters and their strange endeavors.

What made this book interesting to me as a college student who loves language, history, and linguistics, is that at the end of each story a brief explanation tells the reader about the story’s origins. I think it is commonplace for Americans to think of African Americans as a group with exactly the same origins, ancestry, and history. To combat this sentiment or overgeneralization, there are stories from different Islands around the globe, stories influenced by specific areas of Africa such as Angola, which is the key source of what is known as Gullah, a creole language which is mostly English, but with a spirited, Angolan twist.

Earlier I described this collection of folktale as one void of any sort of “moral education,” but I guess this isn’t completely true. Many of the stories highlight the characters’ strengths and weaknesses, or, as the magical tales play out, the characters’ heroic, supernatural powers and earthly flaws. Intelligence is probably the most treasured power, and this tendency manifests itself often in riddles or special quests in which obstacles must be overcome. Since anyone – in theory – can have intelligence, from the smallest mouse to the largest animal, many of the tales highlight and celebrate the little guy’s triumph over a larger, and dumber, brute force.

Apart from the charming tales about personified animals, the latter half of the book deals with human characters dealing with very big issues, namely the quest for freedom. My favorite story is called “Carrying the Running-Aways.” Unlike the other stories, this one almost reads like a novel since there is back-story, a flowing narrative that builds all the way to the end, and a basis in the real world. I think I connected personally to this story because it is based loosely on real events, with dates, personages, and events that actually transpired. I love the fact that freedom is placed up on the highest shelf by the characters involved, seemingly unattainable to them but never hopeless. It is an adventure story that echoes stories about quests for princesses, treasure, or undiscovered lands – except the reward sought after is the most basic thing for a human being: freedom.

The next five stories are very similar to my favorite, and share some common themes. All of them involve a particular slave that has a special talent that helps them gain freedom, respect, or other goods. In the collection’s namesake story “The People Could Fly,” I really felt emotional due to the woman’s suffering out in the fields. Especially for a child, the exuberant change that takes place in her soul when she learns to fly far away from the fields is awesome. This collection of folktales is truly suitable from ages zero to 120.

Aesop’s Fables

I love the structure of this book: a short narrative that jumps right into the story, offering just enough back-story and framing to put things into perspective, and then a short, trite, and sometimes humorous moral dictum. Aesop’s fables really are creative stories that show the depths of human folly and the heights of human virtue. Like many of the stories in “The People Could Fly,” these fables are told through the eyes of animals, though some are directly about humans. I really think, though, that even very young children could pick up on how the author has engineered the stories to shine light on the readers themselves, personifying the animals to take on human qualities.

One strength of this book that I immediately took notice of was the comical illustrations that really guided the storyline. Though relatively simple, these colorful illustrations depict the events at hand and afford young readers one more way to make sense of the story. Years ago when I did some volunteer work at Hans Christian Anderson Middle School in South Minneapolis, I got to read some of these very fables to the kids, and a few even in Spanish. The experience was rewarding to both the kids and myself because I tried my hardest to perform the stories instead of merely reading them, and paid special attention to the illustrations, often saying things like “Look at that naughty fox! What is he up to?” The delighted students would offer their theories, sometimes arguing with each other, but in the end this dialogue provided depth to the stories and made them look deeper than the storyline and the curious illustrations.

Another element of this volume that I really like is the history behind it. Like “The People Could Fly,” these stories too were generated at least in part by slavery. He was freed by his masters for his learning and literary accomplishments, and Aesop’s legacy is now 2,600 years old. I think that knowing the history of these tales is important, and in my future classroom I hope that at least a brief introduction would enhance the kids’ experiences with the material.

Even though most stories are probably better when read aloud, I think that this story is perfectly suited to silent reading for any age. Compared to “The People Could Fly,” the language is clearly more accessible, direct, and simple. I am not sure if I read these tales as a child, but many of these stories I feel like I have heard before because I have a suspicion that since they are so old they have become a part of popular culture around the world. Whether a child hears the actual Aesop tale or a variant isn’t important, I don’t think, the moral message stays the same.

I couldn't help but notice that many of the moral maxims at the end of the stories sound quite religious in nature. This fact is interesting because many of Christianity’s virtues are mere reflections of most other society’s virtues, timeless values that are probably shared by most cultures. As an older reader, many of the story’s messages seem commonplace and perfectly natural and reasonable, but to a developing child this might not be the case, and hence this collection’s power.

How I Live Now

Writing a response to this book might prove difficult for me because I guess I am not exactly sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, I love how Rosoff is able to speak through Daisy by using a very modern, jaded teenager attitude towards all the events in the book. But on the other hand, I felt that the majority of the plot was very contrived and even confusing. I caught myself constantly criticizing how nonchalantly this huge war is breaking out in England without the enemy ever being named. I guess I really liked the beginning of the book because in very few pages Rosoff paints a detailed picture of Daisy, her father, Davina the Diabolical, her cousins, and her aunt. I also liked the end of the book due to its pastoral descriptions of nature and how things somehow work themselves out for the better. The middle of the book, though, is very messy and scatterbrained.

My dislike for this book might arise from the fact that I don’t think it is very realistic, but perhaps a younger reader wouldn’t think so at all. It would be a very teachable book because Rosoff has a unique way of characterization. Daisy has all the essential elements of a heroine, and is very strong, motherly, affectionate, and stubborn. Edmund isn’t necessarily a hero in my eyes, but rather the object of Daisy’s affection and a symbol for peace, serenity, and home. Edmund is rebellious yet traditional, somber yet witty, and strong yet light-hearted. A great quality in this book is how some of the less important characters really come to life without much effort on the part of the author; the reader must fill in the many blanks that Rosoff leaves us, which is good and bad all at once.

What I mean is that for a book to be good, in my eyes, the author must trust their readers’ imaginations – never explaining things away or using too much unessential detail – but yet an author must gradually set up a framework that gets larger and larger as the reader progresses. In How I Live Now, I found myself saying “Ok, this book is about this,” only to read another forty or fifty pages and realize that it is about something else. This could be a harsh and unfair appraisal on my part too, I realize. The author could have intended this affect, which would go on to symbolize how much a war can change an individual and a society.

One thing I would have liked to have from Rosoff is a little more internal dialogue from Daisy. The story is told through her eyes, yet most of the time the passing events are relayed vicariously without any emotional reaction. In the first twenty pages or so, I was excited to see how a girl from New York City would fit into a rural landscape in a different country, but was disappointed. I guess I have a special affinity to this urban/rural distinction since I am from a very small rural town and decided to go to Minneapolis for college. There are so many changes, differences, new perspectives, new people, new everything – but with Daisy this transition seems to be glossed over.

All in all, How I Live Now is very fast-paced and readable, but looking back I just see too many flaws in the plot and narration. I feel so snotty saying all of this because the book is powerful in and of itself, but I think the reason that I get so fired up about it is that it is ALMOST a great book. If someone were to ask me, though, what this book is about, I would probably have a hard time coming up with an answer.

A Step From Heaven

Although this book is told in a first person present narration, the reader can tell right away that the true voice that is telling the story comes from an older, wiser narrator that is recounting events from childhood. An Na’s novel is loosely based on her own experiences, and this is probably why there is so much emotion conveyed through even the most simple occurrences. My only qualm with this book is that it took me a long time to warm up to; it wasn’t until about halfway through that I felt that I was a part of Young Ju’s world. One possible reason that this is the case may be due to the extremely subjective and esoteric language that perhaps only an immigrant child could understand. Perhaps this effect is purposeful because in the first half of the book Young Ju is very young, and tries to make sense of America in a way that only she, as a child, can understand.

As a young girl, Young Ju is overwhelmed by America and American ways. An Na does a good job of presenting the transition from the Korean lifestyle to the American way in that all conflicts in the story stem from how her family as a whole copes with their new life. There is a great chapter that describes Young Ju’s first days of school. Since she doesn’t have a firm grasp of English right away, An Na presents what the teacher is saying using phonetics since Young Ju hasn’t been exposed to much English yet. The following example is the teacher introducing Young Ju to the rest of the class: “Ah ri cas, ca mo ve he… Tees es Yung… Wah ko um, Yung.” (All right guys, come over here… this is Young… Welcome, Young). I think this technique would really make students realize how difficult it would be to have to learn a completely different language, and how scary it must be. At first Young Ju struggles because her family doesn’t speak English at home, only Korean. Over the years Young Ju and her family get better at English, though Young Ju and her brother Joon adapt much easier than their parents.

As Young Ju grows older, she adopts a central role in her family and becomes the leader. The major source of conflict in her life is her grandmother’s death, which affects her father tremendously. This conflict brings up many fruitful topics for discussion: alcoholism, domestic violence, and the equality between men and women. Since Young Ju’s father feels ashamed that he can’t go back to Korea to attend his mother’s funeral, he starts to drink and beat up on his family. He even gets a DWI and brings shame to his family. Young Ju and her mother take abuse after abuse from him, doing nothing to improve their situation.

The reader can see Young Ju mature through this experience because she breaks through her mother’s twisted logic: “We are afraid you are becoming too American; don’t forget, you are Korean.” Young Ju’s response: “Then why did we come to America?” “Remember, Young Ju, women in America have choices.” Young Ju’s response: “So do you, mother.” This last remark makes Uhmma (her mother) realize that she doesn’t have to take the abuse, but before she has time to leave her husband, he beats her severely, leaving Young Ju no option but to finally call 911.

Unlike other books about immigrants trying to become Americans, Young Ju doesn’t experience an identity crisis. It is something different, something I haven’t really seen in a novel before. Since she is told, back in Korea, that America is basically like heaven, she is completely ready to make the transition. The trouble she has with American life is how her family adapts to the changes. Not only is her family a “minority,” they are also very poor, with both of her parents having to work several low-paying jobs. At times it seems that Young Ju is ashamed of her family, refusing to tell her American friends what they actually do for a living, lying that they own a restaurant. This “shame” is turned into a constructive emotion for Young Ju, though, and she becomes the best student in the classroom and eventually wins a full scholarship. The book is truly a story of overcoming obstacles and succeeding no matter what.

On a personal level, I really liked this book because I really didn’t know much about Korean culture. There were several small pieces of information that I found interesting, such as that “Han Gook” (Korean) people came from Mongolia. On a deeper level, I learned how a Korean family perceives the world. I think students would really like this book because it takes something unfamiliar and makes it familiar, forcing students to realize that all Americans, no matter their backgrounds, share common experiences.

Joyful Noise

Fleischman’s collection of poetry would indeed be a good choice for a classroom. Because of the unique format of this poetry, it would be essential to read each poem slowly with a special emphasis on pronunciation and timbre placed on each word. As a teacher, the notion of cadence must be discussed in depth in order to allow these poems to speak to the listeners – something that could prove challenging because two readers must come together and actually perform the lines in unison instead of merely reading them.

The basic premise of this tiny book juxtaposes the seemingly insignificant things in life with the enormous. Little creatures – bugs, crawlers, flyers, and swimmers – are not only described under a microscope, but also intertwine with life on the largest of scales. The creatures are personified in that they can feel joy and despair, ponder the seasons and cosmos, and are fully aware of time’s passing.

At first I didn’t like the format because it was so different, but the merit of this technique could be a very valuable teaching tool. In the poem entitled “Mayflies,” one can see how a student’s vocabulary is sharpened by the singsong nature and cadence of the poem. On the left reads “fevered,” on the right responds “frenzied,” and zooming back to the left and the other reader, the cadence is finished with the word “rushed.” All three words are similar, but different. Thesaurus activities could show how the words are related and different, and evidence could be found as to why these three words are appropriate descriptions of the mayflies.

Many fruitful learning opportunities could also arise from this poetry in terms of syntax. In the poem entitled “Requiem,” there is a verse that reads, “Let light undying shine upon them.” Why not “undying light?” Are they basically the same? Are these prose poems, rhymed poems, or a combination?

One nice thing about this book is that the reader is bound to have personal connections or memories related to at least a few of the creatures, although most would probably be foreign. Personally, I liked the poems about the cicadas, the fireflies, the wasps, and the mayflies because they remind me of my childhood.

Playing outside in our yard towards the end of summer we’d always hear the haunting buzz of the cicada (though we called them locusts) and occasionally find their hardened, abandoned shells on the sides of trees, wondering where they’d flown to. And like the cicada, seeing fireflies reassures me that its summertime. The wasp, even though I hate and fear his sting, reminds me of our old garage that has long been gone, and how the wasps would love to build their nests on the underside of the roof; as a bored young boy I dared to spray them with hoses or knock their nests down with a golf club, then run like hell when they became angry. And the mayflies, any fisherman will tell you, are horrible for the walleye bite when they release themselves from the bottom of the lake floor.

Thus is follows that, all in all, this collection of poetry is a celebration of life and its cycles. Insects often disgust and annoy people, but, as the author shows, they too have challenges to overcome, and like humans have their own remarkable skills or talents. The language is simple yet profoundly intimate and sly. There are enough uncommon words to challenge young readers, yet the majority are familiar and accessible. So, not only is this book a valuable reader tool, but also a great example when teaching students about composing their own poetry in that the author uses words, metaphor, and narrative techniques that truly paint a picture.

19 Varieties of Gazelle

The strange thing about this collection of poetry is that it reads more like a novel. After each poem, the subsequent one would contain just a bit more clarity than the last, and force you to read on till the end; the reader slowly enters Nye’s world and comes to understand it. The introduction places this world into a perspective that is traceable and realistic. I think that students would get pulled in by the shock value of dating this introduction at September 11^th, 2001.

Though the text is incredibly playful and saccharine, it is also incredibly heart wrenching and serious at times. The first line that staggered me was from a poem called “Biography of an Armenian Schoolgirl.” This line in particular speaks to injustice: “What is the history of Europe to us if we cannot choose our own husbands?” The merit of this collection, in my eyes, is that it would be an incredible jumping off point for some serious discussion. Since the media all too often portrays the Middle East as a place of constant despair, a war zone, or a wasteland, poetry about a family sitting down enjoying amazing food shines so much light on the way things could be there, the way families ought to live and prosper with freedom.

One possible objection I might pose to this book is merely a supposition that couldn’t be verified without a classroom, and it is this: the poems might offer little sense of “truth” or “meaning” to a young reader. I know that this is a constant battle with literature, and even more so with poetry – the need for finality or sense of accomplishment or acquisition. One solution to this (possible) problem is to have a short unit on Walt Whitman. Whitman’s poetry often relies on nouns or noun phrases, a series of pictures that the reader must soak up, internalize, and make sense of on their own with little guidance from the poet. I strongly believe that Nye’s poetry is very similar.

An example is taken from the poem “For the 500^th Dead Palestinian, Ibtisam Bozieh.” It reads “Dead at 13, for staring through the window into a gun barrel which did not know you wanted to be a doctor.” A solemn and dreadful line that sits all by itself within a poem of death and despair. Is there actually a point to this poem? Is there one message that the author is trying to get across? I believe the answer is no, for there are as many interpretations and emotional responses as there are potential readers.

Ultimately what I take from this volume is a stifled cry for peace, a message that tugs on the heartstrings of readers. The most powerful poem is “Jerusalem Headlines 2000.” It talks about how a top Israeli official merely “hints” at peace while the poet writhes in anger, wishes the official would “sing it loudly” or “chant from the top of the wall.” Each individual character in the volume has enormous potential and lust for life, but there is always something holding them back. Nye is very good at eliciting that emotional response I talked about earlier through showing the reader, through their mind’s eye, that this turmoil and despair are very real and dauntingly present in the everyday lives of the people who must put up with it.

The single most appealing part of Nye’s poetry is the resonance, lasting calm, and pensiveness that occurs when I read the last word in a section. There are usually more questions than answers when finishing one of her poems, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I think if a poet reveals too much, demands too much direction or attention from his or her readers, much opportunity for positive reflection is lost.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Like any good piece of writing for young adults, Alexie’s novel is a page-burner that provides plenty of opportunities for reflection, discussion, and insight. The protagonist named Junior guides the reader through a web of pessimism, doubt, and injustice, but, through his perseverance and courage, he finds his way out and comes to terms with who he is. I enjoy the fact that this book is written in first person because Junior (or Alexie) is able to pause the narrative to question and challenge the reader to see the world in the same manner that he does, if only for a few pages. The captioned drawings or cartoons that show up throughout the story intensify this effect and provide a creative and expedient way to tell the necessary back-story.

Junior’s cartoons, in his own words, allow him to “understand the world” (95). He is often frustrated by not only his own personal situation, but also his family’s, friends’, and community’s, and these drawings ameliorate the despair he feels. He fights the world with humor, and satirizes serious situations. Right off the bat he wins his readers over with his wit, humor, and almost crushing honesty. Apart from the great usage of terse prose and brilliant symbolism, I might actually believe this book was written by a freshman in high school. Thus young readers would probably respond to this book very well, and I foresee myself using this book in my future classroom.

Although you would probably initially describe this book to someone as one that delves into issues in the Native community such as alcoholism, racism, and identity crisis, I might suggest that basketball is one of the most important themes present in Junior’s story. As a former player, I felt all of the same emotions as Junior – the fear, the nervousness, the need for acceptance, the unabashed seriousness of competition in a young person’s life, and the deeply personal relationship a coach and player can have. Even though Junior eventually succeeds socially at Reardon, basketball is his principle escape. It provides him an opportunity to show his courage and stand up in the face of both communities, both of which consider him merely a half member. Like his Native heritage, Junior can’t help the fact that he wasn’t born tall and strong like the white players on the team – but he rises above this fact because like all people, he possesses at least one great quality: he can shoot.

One perk to teaching this book would be the fact that in very few pages we are presented with an array of different characters with very real emotions and thoughts, all of which possess 3-D personalities. If a reader didn’t have these influences, both positive and negative, he would be a very different person. The clash between Junior, a young man of very low socio-economic status, and his white classmates at Reardon seems to merge both the “white world” and the “native world” into a common narrative. Junior learns a lot from others, but others end up learning much more from Junior.

The reason this book is teachable is the shock factor, in my opinion. From intensely sad and bleak portraits of the world to laugh out loud moments, Junior does a great job informing and entertaining his audience. There are three heart-wrenching deaths in the story, but dozens of laugh-out-loud moments. The way that Alexie handles sexuality in the story is genius in my opinion: it is a crude, artful, honest, light-winded, and comedic strategy that somehow hits the nail right on the head. All in all, this book is probably able to inform students without them ever realizing it, and entertain them by telling the truth in the true sense of the word.