Malled
Adult nonfiction
"'There's a huge cultural barrier there. They [the buyers] make
a fortune whereas the poor sod standing for eight hours in the store
is making no money. This is the challenge we have--we pay you like
crap, we make you stand there all day, customers treat you like crap.
Nobody cares about the associate! It's highly improbable that retail
will treat people as human beings.'"
Although I do not have the brightest of job prospects, where I
took a quarter century out to raise children and I failed the eyesight
test to become a licensed driver in two states, I have sworn if at all
possible not to work retail. I've heard all the horror stories. I
would much rather collect garbage than pin on the plastic badge of a
sales associate. I had only anecdotal evidence on my side until I
scooped up Caitlin Kelly's Malled: My Unintentional Career In
Retail. (The above quote is from a company's CEO she interviewed.)
It's a cautionary tale for anyone contemplating la vida retail.
Kelly had never dreamed during her successful journalism career
that she would stand on the other side of the counter. Then the
economy started to tank. Freelance work slowed down just as more
people competed for each assignment. A steady gig to supplement
income seemed like a pretty good idea.
Kelly started her job with an upbeat attitude. "...I liked
having a set routine, a good-looking, comfortable, free company
supplied uniform, and a break from my work as a writer. I loved
learning and perfecting new skills. I really enjoyed the variety of
customers and my friendly coworkers..."
As time wore on, her optimism was eroded by the countless
indignities and real dangers sales associates have to deal with, the
lack of opportunity to learn and move up the proverbial ladder, the
poverty wages, and the capriciousness with which higher ups throw
obstacles in their paths while demanding they meet their sales
quotas. Based on research as well as her own experience, she came to
the sobering conclusion that workers in retail are seen as a commodity
to be used, abused, and discarded since there will always be others to
take their place.
If you are contemplating working retail or if you want to know
just what it entails in our capitalist system, make sure to take Kelly
up on her invitation to step behind the cash wrap.
On a personal note, I know I am very lucky that my husband of over a
quarter of a century supports the family. I can't drive. Public
transportation is extremely limited. I am trying very hard to get a
day job in an area with limited prospects and abundant competition.
I'm also looking for odd jobs and freelance writing opportunities.
Just gotta keep on looking and believing.
A great big shout out goes out to the January Hathaway birthday boys:
my husband (17th) and my son (the 29th). Hard to believe my baby is
now 19.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
Dork Diaries
Dork Diaries
Juvenile series
Darkness had fallen. Winds were whipping around outside making
eerie sounds. (The hubby was at camp and Adam was out for the
evening) The chill of January was leaking into Chez Hathaway. Joey
cat was dancing from paw to paw waiting for a warm lap to occupy. I
picked up the book I was reading and it seemed too heavy for that
particular evening. I did not have the mental energy to understand
the existential angst of the wealthy. All I wanted to do was eat
candy, cuddle with Joey, and read something relatively light.
A couple of days before at the Orono Public Library I had found
something I'd been looking for ever since I'd become a fan on the
Diary of a Wimpy Kid volumes: a similar series with a female
protagonist. Just waiting to be shelved were four colorfully covered
volumes: Rachel Renee Russell's Dork Diaries--1, 4, 5, and 9.
Needless to say, they did not get put in their ordained spaces. They
came home with me for just such an occasion.
I was hooked from the first sentences: "Sometimes I wonder if
my mom is BRAIN DEAD. Then there are days when I know she is."
Nikki is starting eigth grade in a private school where most of
her classmates are affluent. She has a secret. Her father has gotten
her a scholarship because he provides professional services for the
school, services she hopes her peers won't learn about. Let's put it
this way. He's a pest exterminator with a five-foot-long plastic
roach on top of his van.
In Nikki's words, "How am I supposed to fit in at a snobby prep
school like Westchester Country Day? This place has a Starbucks in
the cafeteria."
Unfortunately Nikki's school's ultimate mean girl, MacKenzie,
has the locker next to hers. Maybe it's this proximity. Maybe it has
to do with their both liking the same boy, one who is somehow immune
to Mackenzie's charms. But it's out and out war in a place where the
rich girl seems to have all the advantages.
Back home Nikki's parents are clueless. Her slightly strange
little sister seems to show up at all the wrong places.
The four volumes I read would certainly satisfy a lot of middle
school and soon to be middle school girls.
I'm gonna be tracking down the other seven ones.
On a personal note, I am trying to live up to advice Nikki gets from
her grandmother: when challenges arise she can either be a chicken or
a champion. Two challenges are presenting themselves in my life.
First, if the Veazie School Committee chair has sold his home I am
interim chair in danger of becoming chair. I am a terrific vice
chair. I want to become chair about as much as most of you want to
swim with great white sharks.
Second, since I've almost finished writing my first book length
manuscript I started researching how to get a book published. Holy
Hannah! Right now about the only thing that keeps me from just
quitting is my Methodist mandate to not hide my talents under a bushel
basket.
A great big shout goes out to the kids, teachers, and staff of the
Veazie Community School whom I will do my best to serve, even of it
involves becoming (sigh) chair of school committee.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile series
Darkness had fallen. Winds were whipping around outside making
eerie sounds. (The hubby was at camp and Adam was out for the
evening) The chill of January was leaking into Chez Hathaway. Joey
cat was dancing from paw to paw waiting for a warm lap to occupy. I
picked up the book I was reading and it seemed too heavy for that
particular evening. I did not have the mental energy to understand
the existential angst of the wealthy. All I wanted to do was eat
candy, cuddle with Joey, and read something relatively light.
A couple of days before at the Orono Public Library I had found
something I'd been looking for ever since I'd become a fan on the
Diary of a Wimpy Kid volumes: a similar series with a female
protagonist. Just waiting to be shelved were four colorfully covered
volumes: Rachel Renee Russell's Dork Diaries--1, 4, 5, and 9.
Needless to say, they did not get put in their ordained spaces. They
came home with me for just such an occasion.
I was hooked from the first sentences: "Sometimes I wonder if
my mom is BRAIN DEAD. Then there are days when I know she is."
Nikki is starting eigth grade in a private school where most of
her classmates are affluent. She has a secret. Her father has gotten
her a scholarship because he provides professional services for the
school, services she hopes her peers won't learn about. Let's put it
this way. He's a pest exterminator with a five-foot-long plastic
roach on top of his van.
In Nikki's words, "How am I supposed to fit in at a snobby prep
school like Westchester Country Day? This place has a Starbucks in
the cafeteria."
Unfortunately Nikki's school's ultimate mean girl, MacKenzie,
has the locker next to hers. Maybe it's this proximity. Maybe it has
to do with their both liking the same boy, one who is somehow immune
to Mackenzie's charms. But it's out and out war in a place where the
rich girl seems to have all the advantages.
Back home Nikki's parents are clueless. Her slightly strange
little sister seems to show up at all the wrong places.
The four volumes I read would certainly satisfy a lot of middle
school and soon to be middle school girls.
I'm gonna be tracking down the other seven ones.
On a personal note, I am trying to live up to advice Nikki gets from
her grandmother: when challenges arise she can either be a chicken or
a champion. Two challenges are presenting themselves in my life.
First, if the Veazie School Committee chair has sold his home I am
interim chair in danger of becoming chair. I am a terrific vice
chair. I want to become chair about as much as most of you want to
swim with great white sharks.
Second, since I've almost finished writing my first book length
manuscript I started researching how to get a book published. Holy
Hannah! Right now about the only thing that keeps me from just
quitting is my Methodist mandate to not hide my talents under a bushel
basket.
A great big shout goes out to the kids, teachers, and staff of the
Veazie Community School whom I will do my best to serve, even of it
involves becoming (sigh) chair of school committee.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Jump Into The Sky
Jump Into The Sky
Juvenile fiction
"Within the big stories in history, there are always many
smaller ones--
stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. I first heard
about the black paratroopers of the 555th Parachute Infantry Battalion
from a veteran who had been one of the famed Tuskagee Airman, a group
of black pilots in World War II...He said the men of the 555th were
sometimes known as the "Triple Nickles," and they had once been part
of a secret operation to protect the United States from Japanese
balloon bombs and forest fires during World War II."
Shelley Pearsall, author of the above quote, was intrigued by
this clue to a relatively unknown chapter of American history. In the
course of her research she had the great good fortune to interview
Walter Morris, the first African American paratrooper. That was back
in 1944, a time when, "...few African Americans had ever flown inside
a plane, let alone jumped from one." This experience convinced her of
the importance of writing the story of the 555th. She does this
admirably in Jump Into The Sky.
Having loved ones walk out on him is a big part of Levi's young
life. It's even how he got his name--from a note his singer mother
left beside him when she left his baby self on the passenger seat of
his father's jalopy and departed for parts unknown. His father has
been a mostly distant figure involved in away from home jobs and then
the military. He's spent many years in a small apartment with his
strict Aunt Odella. Then one day she sat him down for a talk. He's
going on a train to North Carolina to live with his father.
His father, however, has not been clued in on his imminent
arrival. Levi arrives to find empty barracks. It turns out that his
dad has been moved by the military powers that be to a location about
as far from North Carolina as one can go and still stay in the United
States: Oregon. As he finds a way to make the journey, he learns a
lot about himself and the world around him.
Jump Into The Sky, however, is more than just a fascinating
coming of age narrative. Although it is set in the 1940's some of its
themes continue to be unfortunately timely.
Levi almost gets killed for not knowing the rules of the Jim Crow
South. African Americans today are a lot more likely than white peers
to be shot by police, suspended or expelled from school, and sent to
jail.
Levi's dad is in a black platoon that does not go overseas due to
fears that they will end up in close contact with white soldiers. In
later years similar fears have effected the treatment of women and gays.
Exploring either of the above themes could lead to very fruitful
classroom discussion.
On a personal note, Church of Universal Fellowship has been
transformed into a winterland. At the front of the sanctuary
elaborate paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling. The altar and
pulpit cloths and Pastor Lorna's stole are blue embroidered with
snowflakes. Some diligent beings put snowflakes in each and every
hymnal. Pastor Lorna said that these artisan snowflakes acted as a
snow dance, drawing real flakes down from the skies. I have no reason
to doubt her. We'd been way overdue for the white stuff. We even had
a brown Christmas. But since her church was adorned we've had three
storms.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks who crafted such a
work of beauty and, in doing so, lifted the spirits of their fellow
human beings.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"Within the big stories in history, there are always many
smaller ones--
stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. I first heard
about the black paratroopers of the 555th Parachute Infantry Battalion
from a veteran who had been one of the famed Tuskagee Airman, a group
of black pilots in World War II...He said the men of the 555th were
sometimes known as the "Triple Nickles," and they had once been part
of a secret operation to protect the United States from Japanese
balloon bombs and forest fires during World War II."
Shelley Pearsall, author of the above quote, was intrigued by
this clue to a relatively unknown chapter of American history. In the
course of her research she had the great good fortune to interview
Walter Morris, the first African American paratrooper. That was back
in 1944, a time when, "...few African Americans had ever flown inside
a plane, let alone jumped from one." This experience convinced her of
the importance of writing the story of the 555th. She does this
admirably in Jump Into The Sky.
Having loved ones walk out on him is a big part of Levi's young
life. It's even how he got his name--from a note his singer mother
left beside him when she left his baby self on the passenger seat of
his father's jalopy and departed for parts unknown. His father has
been a mostly distant figure involved in away from home jobs and then
the military. He's spent many years in a small apartment with his
strict Aunt Odella. Then one day she sat him down for a talk. He's
going on a train to North Carolina to live with his father.
His father, however, has not been clued in on his imminent
arrival. Levi arrives to find empty barracks. It turns out that his
dad has been moved by the military powers that be to a location about
as far from North Carolina as one can go and still stay in the United
States: Oregon. As he finds a way to make the journey, he learns a
lot about himself and the world around him.
Jump Into The Sky, however, is more than just a fascinating
coming of age narrative. Although it is set in the 1940's some of its
themes continue to be unfortunately timely.
Levi almost gets killed for not knowing the rules of the Jim Crow
South. African Americans today are a lot more likely than white peers
to be shot by police, suspended or expelled from school, and sent to
jail.
Levi's dad is in a black platoon that does not go overseas due to
fears that they will end up in close contact with white soldiers. In
later years similar fears have effected the treatment of women and gays.
Exploring either of the above themes could lead to very fruitful
classroom discussion.
On a personal note, Church of Universal Fellowship has been
transformed into a winterland. At the front of the sanctuary
elaborate paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling. The altar and
pulpit cloths and Pastor Lorna's stole are blue embroidered with
snowflakes. Some diligent beings put snowflakes in each and every
hymnal. Pastor Lorna said that these artisan snowflakes acted as a
snow dance, drawing real flakes down from the skies. I have no reason
to doubt her. We'd been way overdue for the white stuff. We even had
a brown Christmas. But since her church was adorned we've had three
storms.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks who crafted such a
work of beauty and, in doing so, lifted the spirits of their fellow
human beings.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Slap Your Sides
Slap Your Sides
Juvenile fiction
I grew up strongly opposed to the Vietnam War in a country that
was sharply divided about it. America was either heroically defending
liberty against ungodly communism or bullying smaller nations.
Soldiers were heroes; they were baby killers. Guys who burned their
draft cards or crossed the border into Canada were either lily livered
cowards or brave enough to stand up to the all powerful military
industrial complex.
World War II happened before my time. What I know about it I
learned by reading or talking to people in my parents' generation.
For most of my life I believed the whole nation was on the same page
that time. Guys were stepping up to go overseas when or even before
they were drafted. Women were taking over their stateside jobs and
knitting socks and planting victory gardens. Children were collecting
metal and newspaper and buying war bonds. It was an all out crusade
to defeat the Axis powers.
Then one day I read about the one congresswoman who voted
against the United States entering the conflict. I began to wonder
what it was like to hold out against such a powerful tide of belief,
especially when the atrocities committed by the other side were so
vivid, the sense of imminent danger so pervasive. Not surprisingly I
can't find a lot of material countering the dominant narritive. One
of the most interesting books is M. E. Kerr's Slap Your Sides, a
juvenile novel.
Jubal Shoemaker, Kerr's narator, is the third son in a Quaker
Family. He is still four years away from having to enlist. His
oldest brother, Bud, is volunteering as a conscientious objector
rather than enlisting in a combat or noncombatant position. Feelings
people in their small town have about his perceived cowardice spill
over into the way they treat the family. Fewer people shop at his
father's store. Someone paints insults on the store windows. Former
friends keep a distance.
Daria, the close friend Jubal is in love with is the only
daughter of the ultrapatriotic radio personality, Dan Daniel. Her
older twin brothers are fighting overseas. Needless to say, Radio Dan
will not be happy if he finds out about the time they spend together.
No one knows how long the war will go on. Jubal and older
brother may have to decide what to do when they get old enough to be
called up. Jubal hopes he will be strong enough to follow in Bud's
footsteps.
Anyone who enjoyed the book or film version of The Summer of '42
will want to read Slap Your Sides. Jubal reminds me a lot of Hermie.
On a personal note, the January Orono Arts Cafe was really rocking.
We had a lot of improv which was a nice change of pace. I read my
poems, danced when Redman sang, and led people in singing We Shall
Overcome in honor of Martin Luther King.
A great big shout out goes out to my Orono Arts Cafe family.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
I grew up strongly opposed to the Vietnam War in a country that
was sharply divided about it. America was either heroically defending
liberty against ungodly communism or bullying smaller nations.
Soldiers were heroes; they were baby killers. Guys who burned their
draft cards or crossed the border into Canada were either lily livered
cowards or brave enough to stand up to the all powerful military
industrial complex.
World War II happened before my time. What I know about it I
learned by reading or talking to people in my parents' generation.
For most of my life I believed the whole nation was on the same page
that time. Guys were stepping up to go overseas when or even before
they were drafted. Women were taking over their stateside jobs and
knitting socks and planting victory gardens. Children were collecting
metal and newspaper and buying war bonds. It was an all out crusade
to defeat the Axis powers.
Then one day I read about the one congresswoman who voted
against the United States entering the conflict. I began to wonder
what it was like to hold out against such a powerful tide of belief,
especially when the atrocities committed by the other side were so
vivid, the sense of imminent danger so pervasive. Not surprisingly I
can't find a lot of material countering the dominant narritive. One
of the most interesting books is M. E. Kerr's Slap Your Sides, a
juvenile novel.
Jubal Shoemaker, Kerr's narator, is the third son in a Quaker
Family. He is still four years away from having to enlist. His
oldest brother, Bud, is volunteering as a conscientious objector
rather than enlisting in a combat or noncombatant position. Feelings
people in their small town have about his perceived cowardice spill
over into the way they treat the family. Fewer people shop at his
father's store. Someone paints insults on the store windows. Former
friends keep a distance.
Daria, the close friend Jubal is in love with is the only
daughter of the ultrapatriotic radio personality, Dan Daniel. Her
older twin brothers are fighting overseas. Needless to say, Radio Dan
will not be happy if he finds out about the time they spend together.
No one knows how long the war will go on. Jubal and older
brother may have to decide what to do when they get old enough to be
called up. Jubal hopes he will be strong enough to follow in Bud's
footsteps.
Anyone who enjoyed the book or film version of The Summer of '42
will want to read Slap Your Sides. Jubal reminds me a lot of Hermie.
On a personal note, the January Orono Arts Cafe was really rocking.
We had a lot of improv which was a nice change of pace. I read my
poems, danced when Redman sang, and led people in singing We Shall
Overcome in honor of Martin Luther King.
A great big shout out goes out to my Orono Arts Cafe family.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, January 15, 2016
Nest
Nest
Juvenile fiction
It starts slowly and subtly. Chirp (bird loving Naomi) has a
dancer mom, Hannah. Her mother is experiencing a series of
inexplicable symptoms: a burning sensation in her leg, a pronounced
limp, an unfocused eye. On Halloween Chirp and her sister, Rachel,
hear a terrifying diagnosis confirmed: multiple sclerosis.
For anyone such a disease would be daunting. (The story is set
in the 1970s when much less was known on how to slow its progression.)
For a dancer it would be devastating. Not surprisingly, Hannah falls
apart emotionally. When she has to be hospitalized, it is for severe
depression. The remaining family members must pull together and assume
new roles even as they struggle with not knowing what kind of future
is left for someone they love dearly and desperately.
This coming of age story is authentic, poignant, and inspiring.
It's an excellent read, particularly for kids in families facing
overwhelming challenges--medical or otherwise.
On a personal note, I was the same age as Chirp, 11, when my Girl
Scout leader mother and I had to rush back from a weekend camp out in
Maine because my sister was assumed to be dying. She pulled through
only with severe brain damage. Coming of age in a family in which a
sibling has been transformed over night, one parent becomes
increasingly distant while the other is overwhelmed by work and a
daughter's high needs, and everyone seems to have forgotten that you
are still a child is far from easy.
A great big shout out goes out to families forced to enter unchartered
territories by unexpectedly having the world as they know it pulled
out from under their collective feet.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
It starts slowly and subtly. Chirp (bird loving Naomi) has a
dancer mom, Hannah. Her mother is experiencing a series of
inexplicable symptoms: a burning sensation in her leg, a pronounced
limp, an unfocused eye. On Halloween Chirp and her sister, Rachel,
hear a terrifying diagnosis confirmed: multiple sclerosis.
For anyone such a disease would be daunting. (The story is set
in the 1970s when much less was known on how to slow its progression.)
For a dancer it would be devastating. Not surprisingly, Hannah falls
apart emotionally. When she has to be hospitalized, it is for severe
depression. The remaining family members must pull together and assume
new roles even as they struggle with not knowing what kind of future
is left for someone they love dearly and desperately.
This coming of age story is authentic, poignant, and inspiring.
It's an excellent read, particularly for kids in families facing
overwhelming challenges--medical or otherwise.
On a personal note, I was the same age as Chirp, 11, when my Girl
Scout leader mother and I had to rush back from a weekend camp out in
Maine because my sister was assumed to be dying. She pulled through
only with severe brain damage. Coming of age in a family in which a
sibling has been transformed over night, one parent becomes
increasingly distant while the other is overwhelmed by work and a
daughter's high needs, and everyone seems to have forgotten that you
are still a child is far from easy.
A great big shout out goes out to families forced to enter unchartered
territories by unexpectedly having the world as they know it pulled
out from under their collective feet.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, January 14, 2016
South Toward Home
South Toward Home
Adult Nonfiction
"And yet there is something about writers from the South. There
is a certain flavor to Southern literature that distinguishes it from
other regional writing, a ferocity about it, which is why William
Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor and Richard Wright and Harper Lee and
so many others are not known just as American writers, but Southern
writers...What is is about the place that inspires so many? What
makes the South different?"
I'm not sure if I agree that the South is the only part of this
nation that puts a distinct stamp on its writers. Put Stephen King
and Carolyn Chute (tell me they don't have a ferocity) and peers
together and I bet you could a Maine mystique. I think people have a
tendency to romanticize the South and view its writers through myth
colored glasses. Fortunately one doesn't have to totally
agree with Margaret Eby's premise, quoted above, to thoroughly enjoy
her South Toward Home.
What Eby has to offer readers is a grand literary road trip.
She has chosen ten writers who she designates as quintessentially
regionally defined. She visits and describes the places they lived
in, frequented, and described. Her descriptions and discussion give
us new insights into favorite wordsmiths and suggestions for authors
to check out. Among the places you'll go are:
*The courthouse Harper Lee popularized in To Kill A Mockingbird,
*The family farm Flannery O'Connor was confined by illness where
peafowl strutted the grounds,
*The swamp country in which Harry Crews grew up,
and William Faulkner's liquor cabinet.
If you are a fan of Southern literature you will find this
fascinating book to be a must read.
On a personal note, the weather people in Penobscot County got us all
worked up for a 14" snow fall. We woke up to find a mere 4" on the
ground. Oh, well, it made for decent sledding.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks like my Eugene who
lost sleep plowing.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Nonfiction
"And yet there is something about writers from the South. There
is a certain flavor to Southern literature that distinguishes it from
other regional writing, a ferocity about it, which is why William
Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor and Richard Wright and Harper Lee and
so many others are not known just as American writers, but Southern
writers...What is is about the place that inspires so many? What
makes the South different?"
I'm not sure if I agree that the South is the only part of this
nation that puts a distinct stamp on its writers. Put Stephen King
and Carolyn Chute (tell me they don't have a ferocity) and peers
together and I bet you could a Maine mystique. I think people have a
tendency to romanticize the South and view its writers through myth
colored glasses. Fortunately one doesn't have to totally
agree with Margaret Eby's premise, quoted above, to thoroughly enjoy
her South Toward Home.
What Eby has to offer readers is a grand literary road trip.
She has chosen ten writers who she designates as quintessentially
regionally defined. She visits and describes the places they lived
in, frequented, and described. Her descriptions and discussion give
us new insights into favorite wordsmiths and suggestions for authors
to check out. Among the places you'll go are:
*The courthouse Harper Lee popularized in To Kill A Mockingbird,
*The family farm Flannery O'Connor was confined by illness where
peafowl strutted the grounds,
*The swamp country in which Harry Crews grew up,
and William Faulkner's liquor cabinet.
If you are a fan of Southern literature you will find this
fascinating book to be a must read.
On a personal note, the weather people in Penobscot County got us all
worked up for a 14" snow fall. We woke up to find a mere 4" on the
ground. Oh, well, it made for decent sledding.
A great big shout out goes out to all the folks like my Eugene who
lost sleep plowing.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Humans Of New York Stories
Humans Of New York Stories
Adult Photojournalism
Fans of Brandon Stanton's photojournalism are in for a real
treat. As you may recall, he set out on an audicious quest: to
capture with his camera the myriads of folks who tend to swarm unseen
through the Big Apple. Well the man has photographed over ten
thousand. The first fruits of his labor was a blog that now has more
than 15 million followers. Then there was his first really excellent
Humans Of New York book. This follow up volume has more narrative.
The color photographs are the focus of the book. Some show
people in groups like three teen age girls posing with their lacrosse
sticks. (It's not their fault the team lost. They weren't put in the
game). Some are of parents and children like a man holding his young
strawberry blonde daughter. (Everything about his girls makes him
proud). Of course you have couples. A man who probably wasn't
expecting to has found the love of his life. Individuals are shown in
full body shots, head shots, or close ups of a tell tale detail like a
hand holding a cigarette.
People of all ages, genders, socioeconomic statuses,
ethnicities, countries of origin...anything you can imagine are
included.
An 86-year old woman thinks her time should be up...especially
since she misses her husband so much. A child in a pint size pilot's
outfit declares plans to grow up to be a teacher. A bearded man
declares his rage at having to live in a world that contains a lot of
morons. A philosophy professor advises readers to not judge their
fellow human beings by moral codes they can't follow themselves. A
smiling girl acolyte guides a church procession down a street full of
oblivious looking people dwarfed by tenements.
Some of the most touching stories have a two or three picture
series. There are three pictures of a very professionally dressed
man. The first is a full body shot. We learn about his feelings on
learning of his now grown son's serious disability and his anger at
people agonizing over their perfectly healthy son maybe being gay.
The second shows him from the chest up. You learn of how including a
very fragile, high needs member has effected his family. Flip the
page and you see his hands holding a picture of his son who lives in a
group home and goes home on weekends. His narrative ends with the
words, "I know he understands that we are important to him. And I
know that he understands he is important to us."
Humans Of New York Stories is a seriously gift quality volume, a
birthday or anniversary present that will long be treasured. If, like
me, you can't afford it, make sure your local public library purchases
it. You will be far from the only patron who benefits from this fine
acquisition.
On a personal note, I am still working toward photojournalism. I do
fine on approaching and interviewing people. I have a lot to learn,
though on the photography part. I aspire in the not too distant
future to do a book on couples who have been married over 50 years.
A great big shout out goes out to photojournalists like Stanton who
realize that most of the truly fascinating people in the world are far
from rich and famous.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Photojournalism
Fans of Brandon Stanton's photojournalism are in for a real
treat. As you may recall, he set out on an audicious quest: to
capture with his camera the myriads of folks who tend to swarm unseen
through the Big Apple. Well the man has photographed over ten
thousand. The first fruits of his labor was a blog that now has more
than 15 million followers. Then there was his first really excellent
Humans Of New York book. This follow up volume has more narrative.
The color photographs are the focus of the book. Some show
people in groups like three teen age girls posing with their lacrosse
sticks. (It's not their fault the team lost. They weren't put in the
game). Some are of parents and children like a man holding his young
strawberry blonde daughter. (Everything about his girls makes him
proud). Of course you have couples. A man who probably wasn't
expecting to has found the love of his life. Individuals are shown in
full body shots, head shots, or close ups of a tell tale detail like a
hand holding a cigarette.
People of all ages, genders, socioeconomic statuses,
ethnicities, countries of origin...anything you can imagine are
included.
An 86-year old woman thinks her time should be up...especially
since she misses her husband so much. A child in a pint size pilot's
outfit declares plans to grow up to be a teacher. A bearded man
declares his rage at having to live in a world that contains a lot of
morons. A philosophy professor advises readers to not judge their
fellow human beings by moral codes they can't follow themselves. A
smiling girl acolyte guides a church procession down a street full of
oblivious looking people dwarfed by tenements.
Some of the most touching stories have a two or three picture
series. There are three pictures of a very professionally dressed
man. The first is a full body shot. We learn about his feelings on
learning of his now grown son's serious disability and his anger at
people agonizing over their perfectly healthy son maybe being gay.
The second shows him from the chest up. You learn of how including a
very fragile, high needs member has effected his family. Flip the
page and you see his hands holding a picture of his son who lives in a
group home and goes home on weekends. His narrative ends with the
words, "I know he understands that we are important to him. And I
know that he understands he is important to us."
Humans Of New York Stories is a seriously gift quality volume, a
birthday or anniversary present that will long be treasured. If, like
me, you can't afford it, make sure your local public library purchases
it. You will be far from the only patron who benefits from this fine
acquisition.
On a personal note, I am still working toward photojournalism. I do
fine on approaching and interviewing people. I have a lot to learn,
though on the photography part. I aspire in the not too distant
future to do a book on couples who have been married over 50 years.
A great big shout out goes out to photojournalists like Stanton who
realize that most of the truly fascinating people in the world are far
from rich and famous.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 11, 2016
The Wooden Nickel
The Wooden Nickel
Adult Fiction
Caution: words used in qoutes may prove offensive to some
readers. If you are spleeny when it comes to language this might not
be the review you want to read.
"...Now a V-8 engine is something to believe in, made by honest
American working stiffs with their own hands...Your wife may cheat on
you and your friends may forget you ever lived. Your own body starts
fucking you over the minute you're born, the heart lurks in your chest
like a land mine, the brain goes useless as a fistful of haddock
guts. But an internal combustion engine is another matter. Long as
you take care of the bastard, when there's nothing else on earth to
count on, it will get you home."
Even when I was a child Maine was stamping Vacationland on
tourist luring license plates. The hook remains the same. Be
pampered while you spend your money. One of the quintessential
pictures we are sold is that of the yuppie family sitting around a
restaurant table, attired in flimsy plastic bibs, about to chow down
on lobster. What we aren't supposed to ponder is how those
crustaceans got from ocean floor to cooking pot. Lucky Lunt, eloquent
but salty protagonist of William Carpenter's The Wooden Nickel quoted
above, shows us that the lives of those who go down to the sea in
ships often are those of precariousness rather than prosperity.
Lucky is a lobsterman who is following in his family tradition.
He has inherited his vocation and territory from his deceased father
who received them from his own dad. (His daughter is about to be the
first high school graduate in the family.) As the narrative begins
he's living in the house he was born with with his wife and two
children. An unexpected heart attack, in addition to leaving him tens
of thousands of dollars in medical debt he has no clue how he'll ever
pay, has made a physically demanding job out on the ocean not such a
good option. But it's all he knows how to do.
Things are changing at a head spinning rate. Lobsters are not
as plentiful as they were when Lucky was apprenticing with his old
man. He goes out not knowing if his day's work will cover bait and
fuel to run his boat, the Wooden Nickel. Government regulations limit
what he is able to do. And the spectre of turf war rears its ugly
head when he spots a zebra-striped buoy bobbing on his territory.
"There's lots of ways you can fuck around out here, but that
one's not allowed. A fisherman's territory is a matter or life and
death. Lucky has fished this ledge in summer for thirty years and his
old man Walter before that and old Merrill Lunt before him under a
canvas sail..."
Lucky's narrative is a captivating read, well worth getting your
hands on simply for that reason. However, it is also thought
provoking. Lucky is a 21st century blue collar Everyman. Think of
all the folks who have no clue how many hours they'll get to work in
an economy where secure jobs have been rapidly outsourced to third
world countries and a stretched thin security net has not been
strengthened to catch them.
On a personal note, I had a wonderful crafting day with my Amber and
her fiancée, Brian. That is what I request for my Christmas present
every year. Nothing they sell at the Bangor Mall could trump family
quality time. I rolled the yarn for and started knitting a scarf for
Brian. Amber created a beautiful little Christmas 2015 shadow box.
Brian made taco soup and toasted home made bread for lunch.
A great big shout out goes out to Brian and Amber.
Sent from my iPod
Adult Fiction
Caution: words used in qoutes may prove offensive to some
readers. If you are spleeny when it comes to language this might not
be the review you want to read.
"...Now a V-8 engine is something to believe in, made by honest
American working stiffs with their own hands...Your wife may cheat on
you and your friends may forget you ever lived. Your own body starts
fucking you over the minute you're born, the heart lurks in your chest
like a land mine, the brain goes useless as a fistful of haddock
guts. But an internal combustion engine is another matter. Long as
you take care of the bastard, when there's nothing else on earth to
count on, it will get you home."
Even when I was a child Maine was stamping Vacationland on
tourist luring license plates. The hook remains the same. Be
pampered while you spend your money. One of the quintessential
pictures we are sold is that of the yuppie family sitting around a
restaurant table, attired in flimsy plastic bibs, about to chow down
on lobster. What we aren't supposed to ponder is how those
crustaceans got from ocean floor to cooking pot. Lucky Lunt, eloquent
but salty protagonist of William Carpenter's The Wooden Nickel quoted
above, shows us that the lives of those who go down to the sea in
ships often are those of precariousness rather than prosperity.
Lucky is a lobsterman who is following in his family tradition.
He has inherited his vocation and territory from his deceased father
who received them from his own dad. (His daughter is about to be the
first high school graduate in the family.) As the narrative begins
he's living in the house he was born with with his wife and two
children. An unexpected heart attack, in addition to leaving him tens
of thousands of dollars in medical debt he has no clue how he'll ever
pay, has made a physically demanding job out on the ocean not such a
good option. But it's all he knows how to do.
Things are changing at a head spinning rate. Lobsters are not
as plentiful as they were when Lucky was apprenticing with his old
man. He goes out not knowing if his day's work will cover bait and
fuel to run his boat, the Wooden Nickel. Government regulations limit
what he is able to do. And the spectre of turf war rears its ugly
head when he spots a zebra-striped buoy bobbing on his territory.
"There's lots of ways you can fuck around out here, but that
one's not allowed. A fisherman's territory is a matter or life and
death. Lucky has fished this ledge in summer for thirty years and his
old man Walter before that and old Merrill Lunt before him under a
canvas sail..."
Lucky's narrative is a captivating read, well worth getting your
hands on simply for that reason. However, it is also thought
provoking. Lucky is a 21st century blue collar Everyman. Think of
all the folks who have no clue how many hours they'll get to work in
an economy where secure jobs have been rapidly outsourced to third
world countries and a stretched thin security net has not been
strengthened to catch them.
On a personal note, I had a wonderful crafting day with my Amber and
her fiancée, Brian. That is what I request for my Christmas present
every year. Nothing they sell at the Bangor Mall could trump family
quality time. I rolled the yarn for and started knitting a scarf for
Brian. Amber created a beautiful little Christmas 2015 shadow box.
Brian made taco soup and toasted home made bread for lunch.
A great big shout out goes out to Brian and Amber.
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Friction
Friction
Adult fiction
True confession time. I have become someone I never thought I
would see in the mirror: an addict of women written mystery series.
It started harmlessly enough. My gateway author was Jodi Picoult.
When we read My Sister's Keeper for book club I was mesmerized and
went on to her other titles. I rationalized this indulgence by the
ethical questions posed by her work. This probably made me a pushover
when my younger daughter, Katie, clued me in on Lisa Scottoline whose
insights into the legal world and the human heart are intriguing.
Still I could deceive myself until I discovered Sandra Brown's latest
and coveted her previous volumes. I now admit that I really enjoy a
mystery book with believable characters and enough plot twists to keep
me from guessing the outcome. Friction by Sandra Brown really fits
the bill.
Crawford Hunt is a Texas Ranger fighting to regain custody of
his only child, Georgia, from the grandparents who are taking care of
her. His wife had died unexpectedly and tragically, leaving him in no
shape to care for a one-year-old. Now four years later he's cleaned
up his act, undergone court mandated counseling, and decorated a room
in Georgia's favorite color. There's only one problem. The in-laws
are fighting to maintain custody, claiming that's in the best interest
of the child.
Holly Spencer is the presiding judge. She's also head to head
with a sleazy opponent in an upcoming election, determined to keep her
office, to show that her interim appointment was based on ability, not
something more sketchy.
Court is in session, Crawford in the witness seat, when all Hell
breaks loose. A grotesquely masked gunman bursts into the courtroom
shooting. A bailiff is killed. Crawford shields Holly with his body
and chases the attacker to the rooftop where the masked man is taken
out by a rooftop sniper.
Only the man in the morgue may not be the shooter. Crawford's
actions, while seen as heroic by many, could play into his father-in-
law's hands, killing his chances of getting custody of Georgia. And
it may be Crawford, rather than Holly, who was the intended target.
Maine has some long cold nights in the winter months. A
favorite chair, a copy of Friction, a hot cup of tea, and, if you're
truly fortunate, a purring lap cat, can be a great remedy for the
January doldrums.
On a personal note, my friends are delighted rather than disappointed
by my new favorite genre, eager to share their favorite authors. I
guess I'm in good company.
A great big shout out goes out to the sisterhood of mystery readers
and the talebted writers writers who keep us happy.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
True confession time. I have become someone I never thought I
would see in the mirror: an addict of women written mystery series.
It started harmlessly enough. My gateway author was Jodi Picoult.
When we read My Sister's Keeper for book club I was mesmerized and
went on to her other titles. I rationalized this indulgence by the
ethical questions posed by her work. This probably made me a pushover
when my younger daughter, Katie, clued me in on Lisa Scottoline whose
insights into the legal world and the human heart are intriguing.
Still I could deceive myself until I discovered Sandra Brown's latest
and coveted her previous volumes. I now admit that I really enjoy a
mystery book with believable characters and enough plot twists to keep
me from guessing the outcome. Friction by Sandra Brown really fits
the bill.
Crawford Hunt is a Texas Ranger fighting to regain custody of
his only child, Georgia, from the grandparents who are taking care of
her. His wife had died unexpectedly and tragically, leaving him in no
shape to care for a one-year-old. Now four years later he's cleaned
up his act, undergone court mandated counseling, and decorated a room
in Georgia's favorite color. There's only one problem. The in-laws
are fighting to maintain custody, claiming that's in the best interest
of the child.
Holly Spencer is the presiding judge. She's also head to head
with a sleazy opponent in an upcoming election, determined to keep her
office, to show that her interim appointment was based on ability, not
something more sketchy.
Court is in session, Crawford in the witness seat, when all Hell
breaks loose. A grotesquely masked gunman bursts into the courtroom
shooting. A bailiff is killed. Crawford shields Holly with his body
and chases the attacker to the rooftop where the masked man is taken
out by a rooftop sniper.
Only the man in the morgue may not be the shooter. Crawford's
actions, while seen as heroic by many, could play into his father-in-
law's hands, killing his chances of getting custody of Georgia. And
it may be Crawford, rather than Holly, who was the intended target.
Maine has some long cold nights in the winter months. A
favorite chair, a copy of Friction, a hot cup of tea, and, if you're
truly fortunate, a purring lap cat, can be a great remedy for the
January doldrums.
On a personal note, my friends are delighted rather than disappointed
by my new favorite genre, eager to share their favorite authors. I
guess I'm in good company.
A great big shout out goes out to the sisterhood of mystery readers
and the talebted writers writers who keep us happy.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 4, 2016
Love May Fail
Love May Fail
Adult fiction
After reading a scholarly tome, particularly one well over 600
pages, I tend to go for something a tad lighter. I found Matthew
Quick's Love May Fail a most delightful change of pace. It's told
from the perspectives of several quirky participants in a most
wonderfully unlikely journey.
There's Portia Kane. As the book opens, she is catching her
pornographer husband having sex with a much younger woman in the
marital bed. ("Forgive her, universe, for the little bimbo knows not
whom she screws.") She leaves him to return home to her pathelogical
hoarder and totally paranoid mother. Reconnecting with a high school
friend, she learns bad news about the teacher who helped her survive
her high school years and decides it is her mission in life to save him.
The educator (or actually ex educator) in need of rescuing, Mr.
Vernon, was forced into early retirement by a baseball bat wielding
student who attacked him. Crippled physically and scarred emotionally
he has retreated to the boonies of Vermont, his sole companion a small
dog whom he sees as the reincarnation of Albert Camus. When Portia
breaks in on his life she must rescue him from choking to death on his
vomit because his dog (with whom he believes he has a suicide pact)
has died and he's trying to do the same.
The third person whom you meet through her letters (because
she's died of cancer) is Mr. Vernon's dead mother who left him to
become a nun.
Finally there's Chuck Bass, former student of Mr. Vernon, uncle
of a five-year-old metalhead, and former drug addict who has had a
crush on Portia since their high school years.
This cast and their supporting actors act out a story--sometimes
poignant, often hilarious--that is well worth checking out.
On a personal note, my New Years Eve was fabulous. I read near the
tree with Joey cat on my lap. That was incredibly sweet. My
resolution number two is one Joey is insisting on: play more with the
cat. We cuddle a lot but now he has shown a great deal of interest in
his interactive cat toys.
A great big shout out goes out to all the cat and dog companions who
add so much to our lives.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
After reading a scholarly tome, particularly one well over 600
pages, I tend to go for something a tad lighter. I found Matthew
Quick's Love May Fail a most delightful change of pace. It's told
from the perspectives of several quirky participants in a most
wonderfully unlikely journey.
There's Portia Kane. As the book opens, she is catching her
pornographer husband having sex with a much younger woman in the
marital bed. ("Forgive her, universe, for the little bimbo knows not
whom she screws.") She leaves him to return home to her pathelogical
hoarder and totally paranoid mother. Reconnecting with a high school
friend, she learns bad news about the teacher who helped her survive
her high school years and decides it is her mission in life to save him.
The educator (or actually ex educator) in need of rescuing, Mr.
Vernon, was forced into early retirement by a baseball bat wielding
student who attacked him. Crippled physically and scarred emotionally
he has retreated to the boonies of Vermont, his sole companion a small
dog whom he sees as the reincarnation of Albert Camus. When Portia
breaks in on his life she must rescue him from choking to death on his
vomit because his dog (with whom he believes he has a suicide pact)
has died and he's trying to do the same.
The third person whom you meet through her letters (because
she's died of cancer) is Mr. Vernon's dead mother who left him to
become a nun.
Finally there's Chuck Bass, former student of Mr. Vernon, uncle
of a five-year-old metalhead, and former drug addict who has had a
crush on Portia since their high school years.
This cast and their supporting actors act out a story--sometimes
poignant, often hilarious--that is well worth checking out.
On a personal note, my New Years Eve was fabulous. I read near the
tree with Joey cat on my lap. That was incredibly sweet. My
resolution number two is one Joey is insisting on: play more with the
cat. We cuddle a lot but now he has shown a great deal of interest in
his interactive cat toys.
A great big shout out goes out to all the cat and dog companions who
add so much to our lives.
Julia Emily Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)