Franzen's Freedom

What a piece of shit! This novel is so cock-centered. Someone's cock is constantly pressing against his pants and there is always some uninteresting female character anxious to have it. Certainly only a book that a man would write.

I imagine that Franzen fancies himself a cross between the genius of Walter and the sexiness of Richard, but if his writing is reflective of his personality, he's a dull dork. His arrogance shines through in his male characters and his imperviousness to his own droning while his female characters are the most boring I have ever read (apart from that one crack pot that was practically stalking Patty when she was in college). The political interests of Walter are somewhat interesting, but never fully developed and population control is better addressed in Lionel Shriver's Game Control. By the end I didn't care if they all dropped dead.

The Problem with Charter Schools

I've worked with these people and truth is that most of them are doing a piss poor job. Despite the fact that they are getting monies that would go to traditional public schools and are supposed to allow all students to attend, they do not. This is where the inequities start. Many of them do everything they can to discourage students with special needs from enrolling which already skews their population versus the local public school's population. Then while traditional public schools have to provide placements for all students within their district boundaries, charter schools can pawn off students with special needs and students who may be difficult back to their school districts.

Then, there are the public schools that create non-traditional settings that serve to benefit them financially. Option for Youth and Options for Learning are two programs that provide one on one for student for just one hour a week and pay their teachers about $45,000 a year (significantly less that local districts). By paying their teacher a pittance and providing little to no benefits they are able to give themselves--the founders who happen to be a brother and sister-- large salaries that far exceed that of any traditional principal.

I could go on.

Donoghue's Room

So many missed opportunities in this novel! While based very, very loosely on the true story of that nutty Austrian who locked his daughter up in some basement-type thing under his house and fathered several kids by her, this novel is not believable. First of all, the woman held captive is a stranger and was in her late teens or early twenties (I don't recall) when abducted. But, the real problem comes with the ridiculous escape scene. I'd need a full Home Depot's worth of rope and wire to suspend my disbelief for that one.

Then, my huge peeve because it nagged over and over throughout the book: despite the fact that this kid has been born in captivity in American and never had any contact with anyone but his American born mother, the American man that holds them captive and their only media is American TV, the kid uses British English(or should I say Irish English) at least as often as American English. What five year old American kid says "bum" for butt?

Some of the gory details are what made parts believable, but the characters were not developed. There was so much that could have been more interesting. Little tidbits were tossed out like the fact that the mother/abductee was adopted, her habit of breast feeding her son at age five and the son was also the son of the man who abducted and raped her. Did she not resent the son on any level? Did he not remind her in anyway of this man? So many unexplored opportunities.

Egan's Goon Squad

The Pulitzer Prize winning A Visit From the Goon Squad was a total disappointment. Sure there are some great insights and turns of phrase, but overall the writing feels too contrived; it kept pulling me out of the story. And don't even get me started about the last two chapters!

The novel weaves together the stories of several characters over time. The plot is loose and often unbelievable (one character works as a publicist for a foreign despot). I suppose there is something to be said about some of the characters--interesting, compelling. Still, it feels lacking and sometimes forced. The last two chapters are pure science fiction--very gimmicky. One chapter is a power point supposedly created by a middle school student. Having worked as a middle school teacher, I can tell you there isn't a middle school student on the planet who could construct such a thing. I never really appreciate anything that is supposed to be from a child's point of view anyway. Hated Room! Egan takes it to a whole 'nother level, though. I'm sure there are those who think that the presentation of time and characters is some magical concoction, but I think that it is pure nonsense presented very cleverly.

This is probably one of the only negative reviews, if not the only one, on this novel. Next I'll review Room--yet another disappointment. If you want to read something good, read Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin.

Victor

My cat is dying. Maybe not on the brink of death this very moment, but it's hanging in the air and with it is that dread that nips at my heels several times a day. At 16, he is no longer young and strong. Almost daily, I notice some new deficiency like losing his balance more easily, sleeping a little longer than before or not having the strength to jump effortlessly from the ground to the top of any piece of furniture he sets his sights on. (We are down to the bed only at this point with even the dining room table a no-go).

I found Victor in the street when he was just a year old. I had watched him for months from my balcony--he lived mostly on the street. Never able to catch him until he was weak and limping on the sidewalk, it was nearly midnight when I saw him and raced downstairs to scoop him up. When we got to the emergency room, they told me that he was extremely dehydrated and might not make it, but he did. I was happy to see him slowly recover as I cleaned his abscess and gave him antibiotics.

Over the years, I have become obsessed with this cat. His amazing personalty--demanding and affectionate. His ability to feel my moods and push his head against my forehead when I am in tears. He screams with displeasure when I pick him up and he is not feeling like being picked up. He purrs with his whole body when I snuggle against him.

Witnessing his decline singes my thoughts with terror--images of his death intruding on my plans for the day or my grocery list. I'm not sure that everyone feels the kind of nagging dread that I am plagued with. An anxiety that pushes on my chest. Ten years ago a vet told me that he had about seven years left due to his kidney disease. I felt my cheeks burning as I processed the words, but within days had pushed the prognosis out of my head as he grew stronger following that first urinary tract blockage. Now I'm back to those words, but they are sitting leaden in my stomach with new images of his declining physical strength.