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.

Other Mothers

This isn't the first time I've wondered if I'm related to my mother. Did I actually come from a woman who spends her days baking cookies and travels in a trailer. A woman who seems to base so much of her self-worth on men's opinions of her, her face glowing most when given a compliment about her slender figure. And it is sometimes when I catch glimpses in myself of the things I hate in her, that I most wish we were not related. Then, at least, I could wonder where such flaws come from.

Growing up I never knew my father. I knew of him, but he was not a part of my life. This left open a world of possibilities. As a child I thought that my father could be Elvis--Why else would my mom listen to his records repeatedly? But when it came to my mother, the doors were all closed and the flawed woman I was left with, was undoubtedly my mother, my real mother.

But my dreams of other mothers don't exist only due to my distaste for my own mother's characteristics and behaviors. Sometimes, it is the strength, beauty, intelligence or intrigue of an older woman with whom I come in contact that makes me wish that she, not the baker who reads Patricia Cornwell novels, were actually my mother. I imagine how much better I would have turned out had I been born to one of these well-educated and sophisticated women instead of the farmer's daughter I was stuck with.

I could add the perfunctory claims that none of this means that I love my own mother any less--which is exactly what this statement is sounding like. But really, I think that I would love my own mother more if I felt that we had more in common or if I didn't find the very traits that we do have in common to be the ones I most dislike about myself.

Am I Crazy?

I totally believe in the death penalty for those who are undoubtedly guilty of murder that is not in self defense. Still, I find myself deeply disturbed by the horrific deaths and images of dead bodies bandied about on the internet and TV these days. I am largely ignorant about the extent of Gaddafi and bin Laden's crimes against humanity and am more than willing to hear what those more knowledgeable have to say, but I struggle to find the deaths of two men who I do not know to be murderers personally justified. Americans so value their "freedom of speech", so how do you celebrate the death of men who seemed to have simply used their speech to convince others to do their dirty work

I am also hesitant to group the two together. As far as I know bin Laden did not oversee executions as Gaddafi did. He was a zealot with charisma, but I don't believe that he forced anyone to do anything he or she did not want or choose to do. Guilty of conspiracy sure, but deserving of being killed while in his home with his family, I'm not so sure. Not to mention the "collateral damage" incurred during the murder/assassination. Gaddafi did supposedly oversee executions and certainly abused his power. Does that justify his horrible torture and murder? Maybe only those subjected to his tyranny can answer that and I suppose they already have.

Still, I find myself singularly disturbed by these events in the last year. Even the most liberal of American media figures seem to find justice, and even amusement in the deaths of these men. My socialist friends who staunchly oppose the death penalty in the US, hardly blinked at the gruesome deaths of these two Muslims. And I can't help but wonder if that is not at the heart of this--I mean the Muslim part. The US has been going into foreign countries and killing terrorists like bin Laden and Awlaki among others. Of course, one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, as they say. I, personally, can say that I did understand to some extent the anger of the Irish back in the 80s and 90s; not that I believe what the IRA did was right. Were these Muslims so different? So undeserving of any kind of due process under the law? We keep proven serial killers on death row for years while their sentences are appealed, but swoop in and brutally murder "terrorists" on foreign soil.

I know that many will be offended and I would appreciate any educated insights into this topic. Maybe I am missing something. Or maybe there are others at least uncomfortable with these murders and I just haven't heard from them.

We Need To Talk About Kevin

These are my thoughts on the best book I have ever read, We Need To Talk About Kevin:
Written from a smart female perspective(that I wouldn't call feminist as it is more personal than political), Kevin is an exploration of the human experience for any thinking person. The protagonist, Eva, tells a story that cannot always be trusted as her perceptions seem downright paranoid, at times. Or it could be that she is just easily recognizing character traits in her child that are so similar to her own. What is scary about Kevin is not that he is a foreign monster. What he says makes sense, but what he does is something else completely. You wonder if any thoughtful person wouldn't come to the same conclusions about existence that Kevin has come to; the only difference being that he is lacking empathy(the one thing that stands between most of us and sociopathology). Kevin cannot be so simply labeled a "bad seed" or an anitsocial and tossed aside; his is not a completely inaccessible character.

I read from beginning to end completely enthralled with every word. I found the ending riveting and revealing, but not because of what might be thought of as major events(those were well foreshadowed, if not outright stated), but because of some of the small events.

To those who thought the novel should be shorter, I can only say that I wished it had been longer. To those who thought that it was flawed because Kevin did not get psychiatric help, I suggest a reread and some investigation into the the efficacy of "therapy" with the characterologically disordered. And finally to those who thought it too "dark", I suggest some serious self reflection as well as a closer investigation of the world around you. To Lionel Shriver, I give a heart-felt thank you.

PS I found it hard to believe that Eva was not an atheist or that she never thought of herself as "particularly bright". Still, considering the talent and intelligence of Shriver, I can only assume that my disbelief is due to some error on my part as opposed to one on hers.

Special Ed in America: The Reality

Most Americans don't realize what is really going on in our school systems. Rules, regulations and laws regarding special education as well as their interpretations by hearing officers have increasingly led to untenable situations for school employees. In fact, it is out of control. All students are entitled to a free education, but only students identified as having special needs are entitled to a free and appropriate education and therein lies the rub. What is appropriate?

Like so many things in America, class and money shade this definition. Most educators are doing their best with what limited resources are available to them to provide services to their students. Some school systems do less than they should for students who are poor or whose parents seem disinterested. This, of course, is a travesty.

Still worse, are the families who abuse the system. There are countless families who demand unnecessary and over the top services. Some demand that their children be identified as eligible for special education even when they do not have a qualifying disability or a need for services. Of course, money can always find "doctors" or other professionals willing to dole out diagnosis.

Most schools will give in when threatened with a law suit and simply qualify students for services and provide unnecessary services to students to avoid paying exorbitant attorney fees. It used to be that compensatory education was the most that was awarded to students and families. Now we see undeserving families awarded millions of dollars for "loss of future earnings". Of course, to pay these families, monies are taken from general education funds and less and less funding is being spend on the 90% of the student population that does not qualify as needing special education services.

I worked for years in special education in California. Feel free to ask me questions. While I don't believe in abusing the system, I do believe in providing appropriate services to students who need them and would be happy to answer questions as best I can. I know that there are lots of parents out there who do not have advocates and attorneys and are simply trying to do what is best for their kids. I'd be happy to provide any insight I can.