Reading in Review

October was a month of company - good company, all of it. Our friends who sing, my in-laws, my parents, their friends, my brother- in-law and friends from Ventura County who came for the Notre Dame- Navy game the last weekend of the month (they recently have had to evacuate because of fires, so we invited them back, but they are staying closer to home for now) all brightened the month with conversation and conviviality.

Because of all the fun, I had little time for reading and writing, but I did finish a few books surprisingly.  The best of them was Rumer Godden's Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy, which was my book club pick. It was so, so, so good. I didn't want it to end, and if I wasn't playing catch up right now, I'd pick up another Rumer Godden book and read it all the way through. Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy covers some of the same territory as the beloved In this House of Brede, but with a very different twist. Elizabeth Fanshawe, aka Lise, aka Sr. Marie Lise, enters the convent after having been an orphan, a prostitute, a brothel madame and a jailbird. The story is told backwards and forwards, so details are revealed slowly, just as they are when you get to know any close friend. And that's how you feel at the end of the book, as if Sister is your friend. You feel her pain and her love.  I admit, I found it hard to understand how she could love her antagonist Vivi as much as she did, but that is a part the reader accepts as the story goes on. Love is inexplicable in so many ways, especially parental love, which forgives everything, much the way that Sr. Marie Lise did for Vivi.

Rumer Godden's writing is so clear and free from showiness and sentimentality. Her writing for children might be a little too sweet, but her novels always surprise me with how much I enjoy them.I handed this one to my dad, and he loved it, too - proof that it is not too feminine. And it was an overwhelming success at book club. 

We almost picked another Rumer Godden book for November, but instead we read The Great Divorce, another C. S. Lewis book.  I misled one of my book club friends by suggesting Evelyn Waugh's Helena which has been on my shelf for ages, but I started it and kept envisioning British people in togas. Called her back, and said let's stick with Lewis, even though this is our fourth Lewis for book club in three years.  He doesn't disappoint, either; even though his allegories aren't books that I push into other people's hands and say, "here, read this," I always enjoy them and feel the prick of conscience when he reveals the sins of the ghosts at the anteroom of Heaven.  I wish I had finished it before I talked about purgatory in CRE on All Souls Day (using my usual explanation of it being a place where we get washed and dressed up for the big party in Heaven. Our priest described it as a long plane ride to paradise.) And here Lewis has it as a grey, dreary place where souls get on a bus to be offered the opportunity to reject their sins and join the souls in Heaven where reality is more real. This grey place becomes Hell when sinners reject the offer of grace. I meant to write up a schema before book club about what the sins the ghosts represented- the ones I remember are intellectual sin, the sin of making an idol out of  a child, the sin of pride, of desiring fame, of vanity, of materialism. Only the sinner with the lizard (lust?) is able to reject his sin and leave purgatory/hell behind. Lewis suggests that purgatory becomes hell when sinners fail to let go of their sins even when confronted with the beauty of Heaven and welcomed by a guide who tries to help them see the errors in their attitudes. The narrator, a Dante figure, watches these sinners reject offers of salvation over and over before he wakes up and is compelled to share his vision. The memorable line about "Those who say to God "Thy will be done' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done'" reminds us of the danger of loving ourselves and our pleasures and pursuits more than God and neighbor. Humbling.

I also read Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood for the first time. The professor who taught the nature writing class before me assigned this to her students. I have never really been a science fiction fan or an Atwood reader, and am glad I didn't follow the syllabus of this fellow professor and assign in. This dystopian future novel follows the movements and meanderings of the last human being left living, as far as he knows, after a disaster caused by an infection in a future in which bioengineering is creating new species and eliminating aging. Oryx and Crake are the two people who mean the most to the main character, who is sort of a simpering, unlikable person. An unlikable narrator is always a big hurdle for me in a book. Atwood's future where scientists live in compounds and invent crossed species and anti-aging pills and other ways to manipulate pleasure and the avoidance of pain is another sort of warning different from Lewis's and somewhat compelling - particularly the addictions to drugs and pornography that the people in this society resort to. Overall the story seemed underdeveloped - I'd probably have to read the rest of the books in the MaddAdam series to really understand, but I just don't care about the narrator, whose name I can't even remember right now, and  it didn't really seem related to "Nature Writing" enough - even though it is a future divorced from nature and reality - to spend time with.

I also picked up Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy when I grabbed the Atwood book because I've never read it. It was more entertaining science fiction than Oryx and Crake, but I set it down and forgot to read it again until I got the email from the library about it being due. I can understand why it is a cult favorite, but skimming it was good enough for me to say, ok, I don't need to spend any more time with this.

Meanwhile, I'm still diving back into Walden as I read over papers. I'm working my way through Lawrence Buell's critical work The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature Writing, and the Formation of American Culture, but I'm afraid I didn't succeed in helping many students understand Thoreau's project. They write that he goes to woods to find himself over and over. I'm not sure they see the value of trying to discover principles of living and living in accordance with them -- Thoreau isn't asking "Who am I" but "How do I live." I went back over that, but the idea of "finding myself" is strongly rooted. My two favorite student essays so far have been one response paper about the costs of a college education vs. the free education Thoreau receives in the woods and another about the way a student from a rural area feels stressed at her urban school, but finds peace in the woods - a well-written reflection.  I find myself most convicted by his defense of living simply, free to have time for reading, observing, and visiting, probably because like most parents, I find myself stretched in so many directions. The New Republic and the New Yorker published a couple of entertaining essays from 2015 defending and defaming Thoreau: found here and here.

Now I need to find something new to read. 

Skimming and diving

Since the class I'm teaching is something of a survey course, I have told my students that they can skim some essays, but then dive into others. Billy Collins uses a similar metaphor in his poem, "Introduction to Poetry" (I  think I have shared this before):

Introduction to Poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46712/introduction-to-poetry

Most of my students aren't beating anything with hoses. The second quad started a few weeks ago, and my class size tripled from 14 to 44.  I thought with more students in the class, I might hear more opinions, more connections, but instead of more conversation in a large class, we have decidedly less. Fourteen is preferable not just for making it easier for me to learn names and grade papers, but also for making it easier for students to talk out in class. But despite their silence in class (We read an essay by Meriweather Lewis, so I asked about the purpose of Lewis and Clark's journey ... crickets....), I think they are thinking about some of the readings, at least based on their journal posts. I've had several really good submissions. I think what I need to do is call on these students by name. It's intimidating to speak up in front of a group.

The content of this class is not everyone's favorite genre. I recognize that some of these essays and poems are going to be boring for a good number of people, especially since none of them are literature majors, so whether they learn to love Wordsworth or Wendell Berry is not really a goal of the course, although that would be a nice outcome. I just hope I am helping them appreciate literature, which perhaps is harder than teaching about Wordsworth. Most of the students signed up for this course because it is a general education course that fits their schedule.

What can I do to make these readings more interesting to students who don't really like to read?  Sing and dance?  I've started to present videos of the bobolink singing (the chorister in Emily Dickinson's "Some keep the Sabbath"), images of Walden Pond now and then (and a story about how it is being polluted by swimmers peeing in it), and photos of my parents' farm in the fall, of our own trip to the desert, etc. I'm hoping that the visual imagery will capture their imagination, help them connect to what they read. Maybe by the end of the term, the students will not only recognize the names of some authors and be able to identify some of the different trends or tropes in nature writing, but also find a handful of authors they really like.

I probably am assigning too much to read, but it is a survey course. Since I recognize they won't read all of the essays, I give them permission to skim and dive - to pick a couple essays to browse and one or two to spend more time with - skim some, dive into some.

This term I am trying to be a little more systematic in the way I present information: I start class with reminders and announcements about assignments and upcoming events (Exciting news here: One of the design professors is redesigning Pope Francis's Laudato Si to make it more appealing and visually meaningful.  See a prototype here: https://issuu.com/seabrightstudio/docs/now-more-than-ever_prototype-draft07218 )

I've also started having them write down the answer to a question relating to their lives - for instance, last week I asked if anyone knew what ballot measures are coming up that relate to the environment. (I tried to use polleverywhere - an online survey program - with mixed results.)  The class before I asked them to write a short description of their favorite place and then share.  The day we discussed Walden, I had them add up all the costs of owning a car (like the cost chart Thoreau creates for building his house), and figure up how many hours they had to work a year to pay for it if they made $20/hour. (The average cost was about $4000 a year, by the way, 200 hours of work.) But then I lecture for an hour, and I see the phones being checked surreptitiously under the desk. I figure they are young adults, so I'm not confiscating phones, but perhaps I need a stricter policy on that because it seems to be a contagious activity. In the smaller class, this didn't happen quite so much.

At any rate, I enjoy what I'm reading. I get bogged down in finding interesting side notes sometimes, prepping for class, so it takes too much time, but I do recommend rereading Walden and skimming and diving through the Norton Anthology of Nature Writing. Which reminds me that now it is time to go outside.

Indiana farm in early November

Joshua tree late October

Keening

The story of the most recent mass shooting has hit close to home. Wednesday night twelve people died in a mass shooting in Thousand Oaks, California, which is about 45 minutes from where we used to live.  One of those killed was a young man from our town who graduated from the local high school in 2014. His sister, a friend of one of our sons, was also there. They both worked at the bar, which was close to their school, California Lutheran. He was a bouncer and helped teach line dancing. He had just finished a dual degree in criminal justice and music.  My daughter said teachers at her high school were in tears all day. He had been a well-loved student, the school mascot, a lifeguard, a talented musician, and a friend to many. His father was retiring from the SEALS this weekend. A friend who has a son with special needs has shared some touching stories about his friendship with her son and others with special needs. She also shared a beautiful video of him singing "How Great Thou Art" on Facebook. I'm not sure the link below will share the video, and I feel torn about sharing it on Facebook because I don't know the family. But from what others have shared, it is obvious he had a beautiful voice and a kind and joyful spirit. These stories give a face to the tragedy. He will be missed by many.

I did not know him or his family, but his mother has been in my heart all day.  I want to say I can't imagine what she is going through, but I do imagine it. Like all mothers, I am haunted by the fear of a call that comes one night to tell me of a child's accidental or tragic death. Seared in my memory is the sound of the crying of a friend who lost a son to suicide. I had come to bring her family food a couple days after his death, and she could not prevent a deep, brutal wail from erupting.  Although surrounded by family and friends who loved her, she was destroyed by his death and died from an overdose the next year.

May the mother of this young man take comfort in the knowledge that her son died trying to save others, that his memory is cherished by so many people, that his story is an inspiration to countless others.

A local newstory:
https://fox5sandiego.com/2018/11/08/coronado-remembers-man-killed-in-thousand-oaks-shooting/

I ended up sharing this video on Facebook, even though I didn't know Justin. It's not my story, or my personal loss. But I would want my child remembered, especially doing what he loved and bringing joy to others. And perhaps, maybe, putting a face on this act of violence will prevent some future loss...
https://www.facebook.com/hannah.karzin/videos/2122304821155173/

Now parts of Thousand Oaks and the surrounding area are on fire. We have some friends who have evacuated - their daughter's high school is burning - and the Navy base at Point Mugu has been evacuated, and my husband's office is on high alert.  This part of California may not have tornadoes and ice storms, but these fires are just as destructive. And yet, wildfires can also be lifegiving - necessary for some species to survive.