opposites and yet bizarrely connected: Freakonomics & Savage Girl

I don't usually combine two reviews in one blog, but I'm doing it this week and I think some explanation is due: I was recommended the book Savage Girl by Alex Shakar by one of my former student teachers. I just... could... not... do it. I tried. I even tried more than twice. Finally, I listened to my gut and gave up and I'll explain why later. After finishing the second book, Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner, I realized that the two were connected in some weird, fate-twisting sort of way. The two books followed trends no one anticipated other than these trendspotters-- some being fictional characters in Savage Girl and the others were very real, live and had written Freakonomics.

It always strikes me as amusing when I realize that even books I detested still manage to mold and shape my view of the world, so even though I am sometimes exposed to images I'd like to remove (I prefer the image of Dumbledore pulling single thoughts out to view and discard), I'm stuck with them, for better or worse. Thus, I sometimes consciously choose to avoid certain movies & books with violent content (I like to argue that I have enough disturbing thoughts of my own that I don't need new negative images-- but I'm always open to new positive images).

With this said, Savage Girl hurt my soul and I had to stop the insanity. First off, when I first started Savage Girl, I hadn't expected to read an absurdity and in all fairness, I hate absurdity in writing. Don't waste my time. (Ahem, Kafka.) I already know life is absurd and the only thing I hate more in writing is an author who uses obscure vocabulary a lot. I love words, so I consider it abuse when I find myself saying, "wtf is that? I've never seen that word before" on every page. It's just annoying. I don't think I'm a master of vocabulary, but come on, I teach English and have a Master's and I'M saying THIS about the book? What does that mean for everyone else who reads it? Who in the hell IS enjoying it if I'm not willing to give it a try?

What's the story about in a nutshell? An aspiring trendspotter is learning the ropes from her pretentious trendspotting colleagues in a open-air work area. They're sitting on a dolphin sculpture and a volcano erupts in the urban center's background. Yes, there really is a volcano. I thought it was a metaphor at first, but my student teacher confirmed, "yes, it really is there and no, it's not a metaphor". This newbie trendspotter flashes back to conversations with her mentally disturbed sister and then she proposes to her colleagues that a new trend is a homeless girl who creates art in public places. The homeless girl looks essentially like a Neanderthal and the fellow trendspotter decides this girl-- the savage girl-- is something to be embraced and marketed. At this point I stopped reading. Why? The language was just not worth it. I didn't find the story compelling enough to continue. I'd spent over 20 pages and I was just annoyed on every page, so I finally let my logic get the better of me and decided to invest my time in something I did want to read...

I was at a loss at first because of the bitter taste in my mouth from Savage Girl, so I began to frantically look over my book shelves for something, anything, to cleanse my palate. Between my husband and I, we have at least 1000 books at home covering the range of Shakespeare to zombies (not counting the books I've bought and since taken to school to share with my students-- which is probably another 600+). I picked up a few different books and then remembered a conversation I'd had with a student earlier in the day about there not being a retirement plan for drug dealers... and I found my husband's copy of Freakonomics (sent to us by our good friend Sean). I wanted to be able to back up my argument about drug dealing with some text to solidify my argument (my husband Mark & my mother had told me about this particular chapter in the book). I'd had enough about hearing about the book secondhand, so again, I gave in to peer pressure.

I finished the book earlier today and then began to read the "extended edition" supplemental articles. Don't bother. After reading one and a half of these articles I realized they were just a regurgitation of the book and basically were just articles to praise Levitt's genius and his style. I did appreciate the bit of insight into Levitt's personal life, but then it seemed that the supplementals were just a way for Dubner to put his fingerprint on the process and to lend a bit of credibility to Levitt's methodology. Maybe I was being naive, but I didn't feel that these supplemental changed my opinion about Levitt's writings, but I could see where these articles might have been a nice introduction into Levitt's work. However, with these article following the main work I felt like I'd been served a nice steak and then been served a steak salad afterward (which I ditched because I was already full, thank you.)... it just felt unnecessary after the fact and it felt like cheap afterthought.

Ok, with all of the negative out of the way, Freakonomics (the steak portion that is), was fabulous. It was totally eclectic and recognized this-- which I appreciate. However, there was a common theme: facts to support strange happenings. This is where I was struck with the realization that the trendspotters written about as if they were futuristic, were actually alive and well in Freakonomics. Steven Levitt and his minions ARE those trendspotters. I say minions, because he does have what can best be described as a bit of a geeky, cult-following, who would be more than willing (based on descriptions within the supplementals and within his explanations) to help him come by more head-scratching data.

Within this installation of Freakonomics he proves that there IS incentive for teachers to cheat on standardized testing (which many educators keep citing as one reason why merit based pay involving testing is a TERRIBLE idea) and that sumo wrestlers had been cheating as well so that they could make bank. The next chapter told the history of the KKK and their downfall (which I thought was brilliant) and then he connected this group with real estate tactics. Third up was the chapter I was seeking out: drug dealers and why they live with their mommas. The next big topic was the U.S. crime drop of the 1990s (and since then) how it had to do with the Roe v. Wade's effects. On the flip side of the spectrum, in Romania, an abortion ban actually resulted in the children from this ban overthrowing the leader who instituted the ban (Ceausescu), resulting in some ridiculous irony. The book then finished up with parenting issues and how little (or much) parents affect their children's lives and prospect.

I particularly enjoyed how Levitt used a spiral method of teaching about his topics. He'd teach a bit, seemingly go off-track, and then he'd tie the topics back together. He also used a lot of non-fictional foreshadowing, which I can appreciate. I always like it when someone give me a heads-up about the direction the data will be going, but then that person lets the data prove itself so that I'm not posed for a fight by the time the conclusion comes because the data was all neatly laid out and already anticipated the areas of concern. Levitt also lets readers know where there may have been anticipated weaknesses in the argument and this allows the reader to feel more comfortable because this vulnerability builds the sense of trust between the author and the reader. I knew I was hooked when I asked my husband if it was ok to write in the book. Would I recommend this? Yes, to all parties except someone who might like Savage Girl. (Ok, I would even recommend it to this person in order to try to convert him or her.) I also found myself thinking that Freakonomics might even lend well for teaching because of the controversy about each of the topics. I think there could be some great class discussions and paper topics to come out of the randomness and methodology Levitt presented.

Jarhead lite: Purple Heart (Patricia McCormick)

I'm a sucker for a good war story-- whether it's a movie or a book-- if there's guts and glory, I'm there. Some of my past favorite war stories have included: Fallen Angels (book), "We Were Soldiers" (movie based on the book named: "When we were soldiers once and young"), Platoon (movie), Apocalypse Now (movie), Rambo I, II & III, Saving Private Ryan, Band of Brothers (book & tv movie series), Black Hawk Down (book & movie), All Quiet on the Western Front (book is best, but there's an old version of the movie too), The Hurt Locker (movie) and of course, Jarhead (movie & book). There are lots of other good ones out there, but these are probably the most heavily quoted (whether from the book or the movie), particularly among those within the services as well as those military nuts. I'd say I'm just a mild military buff, since I actually planned to be in the military until an unexpected injury disqualified me partially through my college ROTC experience, so I don't want to be known as one of those weird-hangers-on, but have always had that genuine interest in the physical fitness, tactics and the "toys". Also, with many college friends and several family members associated with the military (Army, Navy & Air Force), I take my war literature very seriously and read it skeptically. Thus, when I saw the title "Purple Heart" by Patricia McCormick, I was curious because I hadn't hear of the book, but I knew McCormick was reputable because I'd read a few of her other novels ("Sold" and "Cut").

I picked up "Purple Heart" hoping for some excitement and to be reminded of my friends and family and the commaraderie that comes along with the experiences of the service. While my time and experiences were limited with the military, the commaradie is what is missed the most, so I was curious if McCormick could get this feeling just right without being cliched. And? I was pleasantly surprised. I didn't feel like the book was a glorification of war and yet I didn't feel that she was being preachy against it either. This is one aspect I've really respected her previous novels as well-- she merely presents the story and lets the reader decided one way or another about the situation-- and I think this is a valuable skill to have as a writer. McCormick creates interest in the main characters through the common experiences of being hurt, caring about others, feeling isolated from others, and by desiring the truth to better understand oneself.

I really enjoyed this story the more I think about it because it didn't throw in a bunch of unnecessary conflicts. Instead, the conflict was simple: Matt, the protagonist, wakes up in a hospital in the Green Zone (also a war flick featuring Matt Damon) and he can't remember exactly how he got there, but he's been told he has a traumatic brain injury (TBI). He begins to do some therapy to try to bring back the memories, but mostly the therapy is to get him back in shape to go back out with his unit. While the doctors obviously want him to recover, it becomes more obvious that the military also realizes they need to get soldiers back out into the field to get the most of their investments. McCormick describes the mundane conversations-- and the comical ones too- that make up Matt's recovery time. She also describes Matt's inability to navigate the halls himself and how he demonstrates the type of prideful displays so many of us use, by not asking for help and by trying to cover our weaknesses. I found myself thinking, "Why doesn't someone just stop to help him or even escort him to and from the therapist appointments?! Come on, he's got a TBI! They should know better! If the therapist knows he can't remember basic words at times, why wouldn't she think to have him escorted?"

The longer Matt works on gaining all of his function back, the more of the situation he remembers. He is also told what happened (according to his battle buddy) by one of his commanding officers. Matt also realizes there are pieces of this story that don't add up, but he's a bit scared to know what the truth is and he realizes that the CO probably doesn't want to dig any further into the story because then he'd have to file paperwork and/or do something about it. While this may sound like the CO wants Matt to lie, instead it becomes apparent that sometimes authority uses this "blind eye" tactic to give subordinates the benefit of the doubt as well as avoid doling out punishments. I thought this was an interesting insight and it was very reflective of how such relationships sometimes work and they can work to benefit both parties (the employer and the employee).

Matt does get the chance to face his old battle buddy and he does find out the truth-- but while in a tricky situation. (I don't have the heart to ruin it for you!). I appreciated how satisfying the ending of the story was in that it dealt with heavy topics, but McCormick made sure to keep it light by including lots of typical military humor (and/or humor typical of soldiers) such as Chuck Norris jokes and jokes questioning masculinity and machismo. I also enjoyed that the story was just a snippet of the war experience too. It didn't try to cover everything-- which is something that many war stories try and then they run the risk of losing the audience because of the length and cumbersome seriousness. Overall, this read would be perfect for young adults exploring some of the options that the military can offer-- including the moral dilemmas encompassing "fighting for peace."