“You guys are fun,” I announce to Mike, Nando, Ashley and Shamir, as they all paraded into one of the storerooms in good humor to corner Thor and put much needed medicine on his ear. Mike went in first and called for back up, so then the rest of them start to pile into the small room; one or two of them actually got in before Thor tried to make a break for it. “Shut the door, shut the damn door!” someone yells.
They catch Thor’s head in the door, and he’s hollering and there’s commotion everywhere, and out of nowhere, the can of medicine comes flying over the door, and one of the guys NOT in the storeroom with the thrashing back half of Thor grabs the can and starts spraying his ear with copious amounts of purple, foul-smelling stuff.
It’s over and Thor runs out - out of the storeroom, out of the building, out of the compound. “Did you mean to do that?” I ask Mike. “We meant to use one of the head snares we use on the caiman, but that worked, too.” He said. “Masterful,” I declare.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Life of Pi, Yann Martel
I was all sorts of tickled by this book. It started with the Author’s Note. Martel’s candid story of how this book came to be was engaging. First his remark about fiction – “That’s what fiction is abut, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?” And then he talks about the struggles to write, to create SOMETHING, something complete. He says, “It’s a misery peculiar to would-be writers. Your theme is good, as are your sentences. Your characters are so ruddy with life, they practically need birth certificates. The plot you’ve mapped out for them is grand, simple and gripping. You’ve done your research, gathering the facts – historical, social, climatic, culinary – that will give your story its feel of authenticity. The dialogue zips along, crackling with tension. The descriptions burst with color, contrast and telling detail. Really, your story can only be great.” While I myself am no author (yet) these aspects seem to be the EXACT components of a good book, a wonderful checklist, of sorts, items necessary for a good book, a good read. It’s something I’d use to describe several books I’ve read, or could pinpoint exactly which items not so good book does NOT have.
Mattel goes on, though, and names one other KEY element needed: “But it all adds up to nothing in spite of the obvious, shining promise of it; there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat awful truth; it won’t work. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, and that’s the crux of it.” A lovely description of what makes a book, a book. So I started out already enjoying the author.
The book is based off a true story, but while he writes in the first person narrative, still, it’s a fiction piece, with some liberties or nuances made by the author.
I first heard about this book from PCT Tim, who was reading it during training. I mentioned I hadn’t heard of it and Tim, in a very Tim-like manner, said “Really? You’re one of the few who hasn’t, most people seem to know it.” So at that point I figured I was missing out on something and wanted to catch up to everyone else. I didn’t need much more prompting, because of what Tim told me, it was an interesting story – a guy named Pi on a lifeboat with wild animals – very cool. HOW did they get on the life boat? WHAT animals are on there with him? Is it a Noah’s ark sort of thing, where the animals live peacefully with each other? How long are they all on the life boat? My curiosity had to be quenched. I found the book (unfortunately, a long line of people were attached to Tim’s books) at Y Public Library, another surprising delight.
The story pulled me right in on the first couple pages with his anecdotes about sloths. We learn that Pi had two majors – Zoology and Religious Studies; the book revolves around these two subjects. He grew up in a zoo – his father’s a zookeeper - and from an early age was interested in religion. His first religious experience was with Hindu. Though, he, too, became enthralled by Christianity and then Islam, practicing all 3. He was 14 when he “met Jesus Christ on holiday.” His perspective on Christianity and how he compares it to Hinduism is very original. Though the idea of Jesus and his death greatly perplexes him, he gets pulled in. “I couldn’t get Him out of my head. Still can’t. I spent three solid days thinking about Him. The more He bothered me, the less I could forget Him. And the more I learned about Him the less I wanted to leave Him.”
After becoming a Christian, he raced to the Hindu temple “-to offer thanks to Lord Krishna for having put Jesus of Nazareth, whose humanity I found so compelling, in my way.” His first encounter and reaction to Islam and their prayers, the thought “Why, Islam is nothing but an easy sort of exercise.” He does go on to say, “I challenge anyone to understand Islam, its spirit and not to love it. It’s a beautiful religion of brotherhood and devotion.” It is an interesting and slightly humorous scene when the Pandit, Priest and Imam, along with Pi’s parents, discover his tribunal religious affiliations. “I just want to love God,” he says. Chapter 25 (there are 100 chapters in all. Some as brief as a paragraph) is an intelligent comment on religion. An interesting sentence from that chapter – “To me, religion is about our dignity, not our depravity.”
The lifeboat doesn’t come until Chapter 37, though the entire book, jumps around in the events of his life. The second main character of the story is Richard Parker, though it takes awhile to figure out who he is – or more like what. Their relationship was very deliberate and unique. The tidbits about zoos and zoology, as well as religion, life at sea, survival and other matters are all told in an open way, very frank (or modest, even) to the point of humorous, almost. Martel makes the physical elements of the story jump off the page to the reader. Very creative, engaging, full of strong ideas, conclusions, not all pleasant or agreeable, but still. The detail in which Martel (Pi) describes killing and eating is quite vivid. Definitely a worthwhile read, it’s something that gives you new things to think about. A couple other good quotes: “It’s not atheists who get stuck in my caw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for awhile. We all must pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we… But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as means of transportation.”
“The reason death strikes so closely to life isn’t biological necessity – it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive loge that grabs at what it can.”
Mattel goes on, though, and names one other KEY element needed: “But it all adds up to nothing in spite of the obvious, shining promise of it; there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat awful truth; it won’t work. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, and that’s the crux of it.” A lovely description of what makes a book, a book. So I started out already enjoying the author.
The book is based off a true story, but while he writes in the first person narrative, still, it’s a fiction piece, with some liberties or nuances made by the author.
I first heard about this book from PCT Tim, who was reading it during training. I mentioned I hadn’t heard of it and Tim, in a very Tim-like manner, said “Really? You’re one of the few who hasn’t, most people seem to know it.” So at that point I figured I was missing out on something and wanted to catch up to everyone else. I didn’t need much more prompting, because of what Tim told me, it was an interesting story – a guy named Pi on a lifeboat with wild animals – very cool. HOW did they get on the life boat? WHAT animals are on there with him? Is it a Noah’s ark sort of thing, where the animals live peacefully with each other? How long are they all on the life boat? My curiosity had to be quenched. I found the book (unfortunately, a long line of people were attached to Tim’s books) at Y Public Library, another surprising delight.
The story pulled me right in on the first couple pages with his anecdotes about sloths. We learn that Pi had two majors – Zoology and Religious Studies; the book revolves around these two subjects. He grew up in a zoo – his father’s a zookeeper - and from an early age was interested in religion. His first religious experience was with Hindu. Though, he, too, became enthralled by Christianity and then Islam, practicing all 3. He was 14 when he “met Jesus Christ on holiday.” His perspective on Christianity and how he compares it to Hinduism is very original. Though the idea of Jesus and his death greatly perplexes him, he gets pulled in. “I couldn’t get Him out of my head. Still can’t. I spent three solid days thinking about Him. The more He bothered me, the less I could forget Him. And the more I learned about Him the less I wanted to leave Him.”
After becoming a Christian, he raced to the Hindu temple “-to offer thanks to Lord Krishna for having put Jesus of Nazareth, whose humanity I found so compelling, in my way.” His first encounter and reaction to Islam and their prayers, the thought “Why, Islam is nothing but an easy sort of exercise.” He does go on to say, “I challenge anyone to understand Islam, its spirit and not to love it. It’s a beautiful religion of brotherhood and devotion.” It is an interesting and slightly humorous scene when the Pandit, Priest and Imam, along with Pi’s parents, discover his tribunal religious affiliations. “I just want to love God,” he says. Chapter 25 (there are 100 chapters in all. Some as brief as a paragraph) is an intelligent comment on religion. An interesting sentence from that chapter – “To me, religion is about our dignity, not our depravity.”
The lifeboat doesn’t come until Chapter 37, though the entire book, jumps around in the events of his life. The second main character of the story is Richard Parker, though it takes awhile to figure out who he is – or more like what. Their relationship was very deliberate and unique. The tidbits about zoos and zoology, as well as religion, life at sea, survival and other matters are all told in an open way, very frank (or modest, even) to the point of humorous, almost. Martel makes the physical elements of the story jump off the page to the reader. Very creative, engaging, full of strong ideas, conclusions, not all pleasant or agreeable, but still. The detail in which Martel (Pi) describes killing and eating is quite vivid. Definitely a worthwhile read, it’s something that gives you new things to think about. A couple other good quotes: “It’s not atheists who get stuck in my caw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for awhile. We all must pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we… But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as means of transportation.”
“The reason death strikes so closely to life isn’t biological necessity – it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive loge that grabs at what it can.”
Monday, September 15, 2008
Picture this:
Picture this: You get a ride into the city, by a friend of a friend hook up that happened nicely. You go to your friend’s house, gaff since you haven’t seen each other in ages, and find yourself going out to a party, with that friend and a few others. After hugs of hello and checking out their new digs, you head to the party. Even though the party wasn’t too exciting, the next day totally makes up for it – you get a new cell phone, go shopping and eat Chinese for lunch with a group. You make plans to meet up for dinner, and what starts as a small gathering of friends, turns into three tables long full of people talking, sharing, laughing, eating and drinking beer! All your conversations are meaningful, and you’ve been so starved for your friends/buddies/comrades, you also just spend time drinking them in. After a few beers, you feel good. You haven’t relaxed like this in some time. Since more friends are added to the mix, you sort out who is sleeping with whom, your generous hostess opened her door to another; even though space and accommodations are hard to come by, you amusingly make it work. “G’night” is heard all around as you go to sleep happy and tired.
The next day is just as good. You sleep late, then you and your friend decide to stay in, make lunch and watch a movie. You get things together and make it happen. Good food and good movie. You are content. Next you go to a football game – your team against your friend’s team. The game is delayed due to rain, but you chillily accept to warm up via moonshine from a fellow spectator. The game is entertaining, you cheer your team on, people-watch and gaff with people as those concession stand items are being eaten all around. For dinner, you and several others must have had the same thought in mind, because you all show up at the same restaurant. (Money is not an issue this weekend.) You eat, you laugh and you plan for later, to go to the big event that’s in town. People galore, drinks, stage performances, kids and other ankle biters running around. You watch and hear some interesting things before you and a different friend decide to call it a night. You walk back together, talking and sharing along the way, very satisfying. You are scared witless by your fellow sleepover buddy, but still get into bed knowing you had a good day. You come home the next afternoon, batteries recharged, happy and content. You’ve got some great friends and you had a great time. A happy story.
Sounds nice, huh? Have you ever experienced something similar? Is it a story you can relate to on some levels? Having a good time with friends, going out and enjoying yourself, confiding in someone and getting feedback and support?
I can. I just had a wonderful weekend in TBC; it was just what I needed. Even though it was a PC Guyana version of what normally would be a civilian Kansas City experience, it carried the exact same undertones, and was perhaps more appreciated/meaningful because it was a mix of both worlds – both worlds you are a part of. It was one of the Amerindian Heritage Month events going on this week/weekend. September as a whole is Amerindian Heritage Month, and nation-wide, the different villages/Amerindian tribes celebrate through ceremonies, dancing, contests such as archery, pepper pot (a Guyanese dish) making, pottery, and music, sports and fashion shows. Amerindians were the first inhabitants of Guyana. Our Ed Tech Trainer, Kampta, said there are different theories as to where the Amerindian people came from. Due to time and the spread out nature of the villages, Amerindians became to make up 9 different tribes: Wai-Wai, Wapishana, Carib, Makushi, Akawaio, Patamona, Arecuna, Arawak and Warrau. (Taken roughly from an unreliable website, don’t quote me on those. There are 9, though.) My village is a Makushi village; they speak Makushi. Other languages o the Amerindians include Arawak, Carib and Wapishana. Rom missionary influence, most Amerindians are Christian.
Anyway, all different tribes of Amerindians from all around the country hold events and celebrations in September, usually one big one per area. Ours was and is held right outside of TBC, within walking distance. This weekend, different football teams from different nearby villages played, though at the big celebrations at the end of the month our region will play against Region 7 for the big match.
I got to lightly party with some from my village and I got to cheer them on at one of their games. We lost, but I was proud of them. Also, our social gatherings had an intermingling of PCVs and locals. It was a good mix of people and experiences. Another fine way for me to transition into being 100% at home here. Overall, my “picture this” was quite satisfying.
The next day is just as good. You sleep late, then you and your friend decide to stay in, make lunch and watch a movie. You get things together and make it happen. Good food and good movie. You are content. Next you go to a football game – your team against your friend’s team. The game is delayed due to rain, but you chillily accept to warm up via moonshine from a fellow spectator. The game is entertaining, you cheer your team on, people-watch and gaff with people as those concession stand items are being eaten all around. For dinner, you and several others must have had the same thought in mind, because you all show up at the same restaurant. (Money is not an issue this weekend.) You eat, you laugh and you plan for later, to go to the big event that’s in town. People galore, drinks, stage performances, kids and other ankle biters running around. You watch and hear some interesting things before you and a different friend decide to call it a night. You walk back together, talking and sharing along the way, very satisfying. You are scared witless by your fellow sleepover buddy, but still get into bed knowing you had a good day. You come home the next afternoon, batteries recharged, happy and content. You’ve got some great friends and you had a great time. A happy story.
Sounds nice, huh? Have you ever experienced something similar? Is it a story you can relate to on some levels? Having a good time with friends, going out and enjoying yourself, confiding in someone and getting feedback and support?
I can. I just had a wonderful weekend in TBC; it was just what I needed. Even though it was a PC Guyana version of what normally would be a civilian Kansas City experience, it carried the exact same undertones, and was perhaps more appreciated/meaningful because it was a mix of both worlds – both worlds you are a part of. It was one of the Amerindian Heritage Month events going on this week/weekend. September as a whole is Amerindian Heritage Month, and nation-wide, the different villages/Amerindian tribes celebrate through ceremonies, dancing, contests such as archery, pepper pot (a Guyanese dish) making, pottery, and music, sports and fashion shows. Amerindians were the first inhabitants of Guyana. Our Ed Tech Trainer, Kampta, said there are different theories as to where the Amerindian people came from. Due to time and the spread out nature of the villages, Amerindians became to make up 9 different tribes: Wai-Wai, Wapishana, Carib, Makushi, Akawaio, Patamona, Arecuna, Arawak and Warrau. (Taken roughly from an unreliable website, don’t quote me on those. There are 9, though.) My village is a Makushi village; they speak Makushi. Other languages o the Amerindians include Arawak, Carib and Wapishana. Rom missionary influence, most Amerindians are Christian.
Anyway, all different tribes of Amerindians from all around the country hold events and celebrations in September, usually one big one per area. Ours was and is held right outside of TBC, within walking distance. This weekend, different football teams from different nearby villages played, though at the big celebrations at the end of the month our region will play against Region 7 for the big match.
I got to lightly party with some from my village and I got to cheer them on at one of their games. We lost, but I was proud of them. Also, our social gatherings had an intermingling of PCVs and locals. It was a good mix of people and experiences. Another fine way for me to transition into being 100% at home here. Overall, my “picture this” was quite satisfying.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Walden Two, B.F. Skinner
I heard about this book from the last Psychology classes I took with my favorite psych professor, Dr. Wann. Skinner, of course, was a well-known behavioral psychologist. The fact that it was a novel and not a textbook interested me, so I put it on my list. I came across it in the PC lounge and figured why not? I think it was in the lounge that I learned there’s also a book called Walden, written by Thoreau. Sounds impressive, though I had no idea what it was about (yep, I’m that sheltered). I come to learn that both books revolve around the idea of a utopian society – Thoreau’s sounds maybe more philosophical? But Skinner’s Walden Two features a utopian-based society driven by behavior engineering.
Now, immediately, that subject is aversive, right? It just seems without sentiment, cold, harsh and robotic. I was pleased to read, though that the concept and story was done in such a way, you weren’t picking an argument with the story the whole way through. As the group of six takes a several day tour of Walden Two, the name of the compound/campus/facility, the reader experiences the entirety of the society as the visitors do. And, all relevant issues/hang ups/etc. are bought forth and discussed. The work force, how the society is not really democratic, though not a dictatorship, either. The main character weighs all he has seen in his days there, and in a surprising or not-so-surprising ending, chooses to accept that way of life as his own and joins Walden Two. Fascinating to ponder.
Now, immediately, that subject is aversive, right? It just seems without sentiment, cold, harsh and robotic. I was pleased to read, though that the concept and story was done in such a way, you weren’t picking an argument with the story the whole way through. As the group of six takes a several day tour of Walden Two, the name of the compound/campus/facility, the reader experiences the entirety of the society as the visitors do. And, all relevant issues/hang ups/etc. are bought forth and discussed. The work force, how the society is not really democratic, though not a dictatorship, either. The main character weighs all he has seen in his days there, and in a surprising or not-so-surprising ending, chooses to accept that way of life as his own and joins Walden Two. Fascinating to ponder.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Sarah goes to the Clan Gathering
For those who don't know, that’s a Clan of the Cave Bear reference. Ayla, the main character, is an Other, adopted by the Clan, which is a different type of people. Her small clan of 26 or so eventually adopted her as one of their own - she was a clan woman, accepted, a part of the group, despite her differences. Though her differences constantly are an issue, especially when they go to the Clan Gathering, a family reunion/Olympics of sorts, that comes every 7 years, where all the clans in the area come together for competitions, brotherhood and a spiritual ceremony. As she walks in with her own clan, all stare at her, and many are reluctant to call her clan, despite her attempts to be a good clan woman and medicine woman. See, she was given a position of leadership, Medicine Woman, as well as responsibility, not just to her clan, but to the entire Clan. So, she's supposed to the same, yet different at the same time. And she's already different, in a different way, anyways.
Anyway, this is sort of how I felt when I went to a literacy workshop held in TBC* last week. It was a training for teachers of grades 1-3 and new teachers. The org that heads up literacy and numeracy programs for Guyana, is relatively new, I believe, and it emphasizes phonemic awareness and things. We PCV's were introduced to to the org during training. There are computer programs as well as materials geared to help with lit and numeracy. The workshop in TBC was three days long, and had different sessions, much like any conference I'd go to in the states. I came with a group of teachers from around my village area. Luckily, through the Upgrading Programme in the village, I had already met them a couple times and got to work with them and work past the initial strangeness of having me around. As PCVs, we are supposed to become a villager, live how they live, to an extent. We aren't supposed to work AT our fellow teachers, but work WITH them. Obviously, we have different strategies to introduce them to, and different ways to help them, but to be able to effectively do that, we're supposed to become one of them. I won't say I've become one yet, that may take quite awhile. So anyway, there's a perceived equality in addition to a responsibility on my part.
So it was an internal conflict of sorts, during the sessions, one of simply wanting to (and needing to) observe and learn and be a good Village Woman - the other, to be a leader, help out where needed, set a good example and be a good PCV Woman. The conflict was moot, though (or is it like a cow's opinion - "moo"? hee hee) because I was too overwhelmed to do more than sit, listen and follow my HM and SM around.
I did take good notes, I did learn more about the Ed system and their efforts, and then my time in TBC was spent meeting and getting to know two other PCVs, Michael and Diane, and getting to know the town. And I got to stock up on supplies. During group activities, I was included by others, which was a good feeling. I didn’t have much to offer, regrettably. I think partial shame of this fact made me keep quiet most of the time. Which is a shame in itself because if anything, I could be getting to know my colleagues.
The sessions were very informative and seemed to cover everything we covered during PST. Again, I temporarily wondered, “What am I doing here? They have everything they need to teach literacy, more than I have to give them!” Though I began to notice that there was a dissonance between the session presenters and the audience. I’ll save the details of that for another post, but for now, I’ll just say that I began to understand my purpose for being here a little clearer. I appreciate the clarity, but the task ahead of me is still daunting. I can’t wait until it all falls into place; I have a strong feeling that it will, that me coming here was meant to deliver the peg to the hole, or something like that. La necesidad es el tiempo, el tiempo.
*The Big City - relatively speaking. Where I go to shop, where things happen. Again, for security's sake, "TBC" will be written instead.
Anyway, this is sort of how I felt when I went to a literacy workshop held in TBC* last week. It was a training for teachers of grades 1-3 and new teachers. The org that heads up literacy and numeracy programs for Guyana, is relatively new, I believe, and it emphasizes phonemic awareness and things. We PCV's were introduced to to the org during training. There are computer programs as well as materials geared to help with lit and numeracy. The workshop in TBC was three days long, and had different sessions, much like any conference I'd go to in the states. I came with a group of teachers from around my village area. Luckily, through the Upgrading Programme in the village, I had already met them a couple times and got to work with them and work past the initial strangeness of having me around. As PCVs, we are supposed to become a villager, live how they live, to an extent. We aren't supposed to work AT our fellow teachers, but work WITH them. Obviously, we have different strategies to introduce them to, and different ways to help them, but to be able to effectively do that, we're supposed to become one of them. I won't say I've become one yet, that may take quite awhile. So anyway, there's a perceived equality in addition to a responsibility on my part.
So it was an internal conflict of sorts, during the sessions, one of simply wanting to (and needing to) observe and learn and be a good Village Woman - the other, to be a leader, help out where needed, set a good example and be a good PCV Woman. The conflict was moot, though (or is it like a cow's opinion - "moo"? hee hee) because I was too overwhelmed to do more than sit, listen and follow my HM and SM around.
I did take good notes, I did learn more about the Ed system and their efforts, and then my time in TBC was spent meeting and getting to know two other PCVs, Michael and Diane, and getting to know the town. And I got to stock up on supplies. During group activities, I was included by others, which was a good feeling. I didn’t have much to offer, regrettably. I think partial shame of this fact made me keep quiet most of the time. Which is a shame in itself because if anything, I could be getting to know my colleagues.
The sessions were very informative and seemed to cover everything we covered during PST. Again, I temporarily wondered, “What am I doing here? They have everything they need to teach literacy, more than I have to give them!” Though I began to notice that there was a dissonance between the session presenters and the audience. I’ll save the details of that for another post, but for now, I’ll just say that I began to understand my purpose for being here a little clearer. I appreciate the clarity, but the task ahead of me is still daunting. I can’t wait until it all falls into place; I have a strong feeling that it will, that me coming here was meant to deliver the peg to the hole, or something like that. La necesidad es el tiempo, el tiempo.
*The Big City - relatively speaking. Where I go to shop, where things happen. Again, for security's sake, "TBC" will be written instead.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Fortune’s Rocks, Anita Shreve
This book, being one of my favorites, I have read several times already, thought this was my first go at it with the copy that’s in YPL. I love this story, because, sure, it centers on a scandalous love affair, but Shreve does it in such an elegant way and really illuminates the thought process and development of a singular young woman. Sometimes when you read it, you feel it’s a vivid story of forbidden love – and who doesn’t want to hear about forbidden love? Other times, you are convinced she’s a Lolita and the entire affair was simply brought forth out of sexual attraction and nothing more – and the two are selfish to indulge.
This is a good chance to note several interesting quotes of the book. One theme of the story I have an interest and attraction to is portraits and the depths within them. Olympia is learning more about herself, her family and direct acquaintances and the world, and life as likened to a portrait seems so poetic. I will start with the last reference in the book, which seems to both open and conclude the idea. “‘Portraits,’ she thinks ‘…we are all unfinished portraits.’” This comes after learning more about Rufus Philbrick.
Then, when she has gained an insight into her mother’s life “… she suddenly looks different to Olympia, physically different, as though a portrait has been altered. And Olympia thinks that possibly such adjustments might have to be made for everyone she knows. Upon meeting a person, a sketch is formed and for the life of the relationship, however intimate or not, a portrait is painted, with oils or pastels or with black ink or with watercolor, and only at a person’s death can the portrait be considered finished. Perhaps not even at the person’s death.”
The talk of portraits begins with Olympia’s reflections of the collection of essays Haskell wrote. “In ‘On the Banks of the Rivers,’ John Warren Haskell presents to the reader seven stories, or rather, Olympia thinks, portraits – portraits that are extraordinary detailed and drawn with seemingly objectivity – of seven persons associated with the mills at Lowell, Holyoke, and Manchester: four female workers and three male. In the rendering of these portraits, there is a little rhetoric and no observable attempt on the part of the author to praise or to injure any of the men or women.” “‘They are not essays in the strictest sense, to be sure,’ says John Haskell. ‘They are profiles only. But I like to think the details of a life form a mosaic that in turn informs the reader about something larger than the life. I have drawings as well of these workers, which I commissioned…’”
“Olympia says, ‘I, for one, would very much like to see the drawings of the people you have written of…’ ‘But does that not destroy the very purpose of the written portrait?’ Philbrick asks. ‘How can one’s words ever equal the accuracy of a picture?’ ‘Surely there remains a great deal that cannot be caught in a likeness,’ John Haskell says. ‘Historical facts, for example or the joy of a marriage. The anguish resulting from the death of a child. Or simply a broken spirit.’ ‘But I, for one, have always thought that a life can be read on a face,’ says Philbrick. ‘It is how I do my business, by what I see in a face. Loyalty. Honesty. Cunning. Weakness.’ ‘Well, then we are in luck,’ says Catherine Haskell, brightly. ‘For my husband has brought his camera with him. Perhaps we may persuade him to make photographs of each of us tomorrow. After which we can decide for ourselves whether character may be read in the face.’”
And once Olympia’s own photography was taken, “Later, when she sees the photographs for the first time, she will be surprised at how calm her face looks – how steady her gaze, how erect her posture. In the picture, her eyes will be slightly closed, and there will be a shadow on her neck. The shawl will be draped around her shoulders, and her hands will rest in her lap. In this deceptive photograph, she will look a young woman who is not at all disturbed or embarrassed, but instead appears to be rather serious. And she wonders if, in its ability to deceive, photography is not unlike the sea which may offer a benign surface to the observer even as it conceals depths and current below.”Examining the deep layers of a person – any person – is very intriguing and gratifying to consider.
Though there are several more thoughts that occur to Olympia that I highly enjoyed about this novel, I have only one more to note: “And all this causes her to wonder at the disparity between the silk dresses and the natural postures of the body, and to think: How far, how far, we are willing to go to pretend we are not of the body at all.” Olympia’s adult life, filled with happiness and sorrow, is something I always enjoy submerging myself in, finding moments I can sympathize with, other moments I can empathize with. Shreve writes in a colorful style, and tells a thorough story.
This is a good chance to note several interesting quotes of the book. One theme of the story I have an interest and attraction to is portraits and the depths within them. Olympia is learning more about herself, her family and direct acquaintances and the world, and life as likened to a portrait seems so poetic. I will start with the last reference in the book, which seems to both open and conclude the idea. “‘Portraits,’ she thinks ‘…we are all unfinished portraits.’” This comes after learning more about Rufus Philbrick.
Then, when she has gained an insight into her mother’s life “… she suddenly looks different to Olympia, physically different, as though a portrait has been altered. And Olympia thinks that possibly such adjustments might have to be made for everyone she knows. Upon meeting a person, a sketch is formed and for the life of the relationship, however intimate or not, a portrait is painted, with oils or pastels or with black ink or with watercolor, and only at a person’s death can the portrait be considered finished. Perhaps not even at the person’s death.”
The talk of portraits begins with Olympia’s reflections of the collection of essays Haskell wrote. “In ‘On the Banks of the Rivers,’ John Warren Haskell presents to the reader seven stories, or rather, Olympia thinks, portraits – portraits that are extraordinary detailed and drawn with seemingly objectivity – of seven persons associated with the mills at Lowell, Holyoke, and Manchester: four female workers and three male. In the rendering of these portraits, there is a little rhetoric and no observable attempt on the part of the author to praise or to injure any of the men or women.” “‘They are not essays in the strictest sense, to be sure,’ says John Haskell. ‘They are profiles only. But I like to think the details of a life form a mosaic that in turn informs the reader about something larger than the life. I have drawings as well of these workers, which I commissioned…’”
“Olympia says, ‘I, for one, would very much like to see the drawings of the people you have written of…’ ‘But does that not destroy the very purpose of the written portrait?’ Philbrick asks. ‘How can one’s words ever equal the accuracy of a picture?’ ‘Surely there remains a great deal that cannot be caught in a likeness,’ John Haskell says. ‘Historical facts, for example or the joy of a marriage. The anguish resulting from the death of a child. Or simply a broken spirit.’ ‘But I, for one, have always thought that a life can be read on a face,’ says Philbrick. ‘It is how I do my business, by what I see in a face. Loyalty. Honesty. Cunning. Weakness.’ ‘Well, then we are in luck,’ says Catherine Haskell, brightly. ‘For my husband has brought his camera with him. Perhaps we may persuade him to make photographs of each of us tomorrow. After which we can decide for ourselves whether character may be read in the face.’”
And once Olympia’s own photography was taken, “Later, when she sees the photographs for the first time, she will be surprised at how calm her face looks – how steady her gaze, how erect her posture. In the picture, her eyes will be slightly closed, and there will be a shadow on her neck. The shawl will be draped around her shoulders, and her hands will rest in her lap. In this deceptive photograph, she will look a young woman who is not at all disturbed or embarrassed, but instead appears to be rather serious. And she wonders if, in its ability to deceive, photography is not unlike the sea which may offer a benign surface to the observer even as it conceals depths and current below.”Examining the deep layers of a person – any person – is very intriguing and gratifying to consider.
Though there are several more thoughts that occur to Olympia that I highly enjoyed about this novel, I have only one more to note: “And all this causes her to wonder at the disparity between the silk dresses and the natural postures of the body, and to think: How far, how far, we are willing to go to pretend we are not of the body at all.” Olympia’s adult life, filled with happiness and sorrow, is something I always enjoy submerging myself in, finding moments I can sympathize with, other moments I can empathize with. Shreve writes in a colorful style, and tells a thorough story.
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