Additional Annotations

Lunge-Larsen, Lise. (2004). The hidden folk. Ill: Beth Krommes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 0-618-17495-8.

Lise Lunge-Larsen’s collection of folklore is truly unique.  The Hidden Folk recounts traditional Northern European stories of the long-forgotten hidden folk including flower fairies, elves, selkies, and more.  These entertaining bedtime stories for children discuss the many tricks and tribulations of the hidden folk as they try to teach humans lessons.  Through the tales in this collection, humans learn that if they were more aware of their surroundings they could see the contributions made by our little friends.  The stories are hugely imaginative and concise, which allows readers to become engrossed in the plausibility of existence of these miniature beings.  

Holt, Kimberly Willis. (1999). When Zachary Beaver came to town. New York: Laurel-Leaf Books. ISBN 0-440-23841-2. 

Zachary Beaver is the fattest boy in America.  The day he arrives in the sleepy town of Antler, Texas changed 14-year-old Toby’s life forever.  Set during the Vietnam War, Toby begins to realize that there are a lot of things that he doesn’t know this new stranger in town and the rest of the people he sees every day.  Throughout this historical fiction novel, we see the impact war can have on the tiniest of towns and on the deepest of friendships.  With some subtle religious undertones, the novel is very simple: its plot, characters, and themes. 

Gantos, Jack. (2004). Hole in my life. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. ISBN 0-374-43089-6.

Jack Gantos, of Joey Pigza fame, has relived his troubled adolescence in this painfully honest memoir.  Like many young people, Gantos is confronted with many challenging decisions as a teen and, unfortunately, makes the wrong choices.  These decisions land him on a boat smuggling drugs and eventually in prison paying for his crime.  Throughout the experience Gantos is reflective about where he has gone wrong in his life and how he might fix it down the road.  He re-discovers that becoming a writer will be what can save him from himself.  Teen readers can relate to his realistic language and characters.  One can walk away with an idea that obstacles can be simply a temporary distraction from where we want our lives to go. 

Tan, Shaun. (2006). The arrival. New York: Arthur A. Levine Books. ISBN 0-439-89529-4.

Shaun Tan has created not only a wordless graphic novel but also a work of art; the equally creative plot revolves around an immigrant’s experience as he moves to a new country.  Readers are haunted by the imagery in his pictures that represent both the anticipation and fear that immigrants feel when they try to navigate a new home.  Powerfully, the layered story exposes readers to the compassion of others as they share their stories with their new friend, the immigrant.  The intricate artwork tells the story in such a way that words would interfere; the detailed pictures speak for themselves.  I most admire that this book requires an entire different type of literacy, one that all readers can benefit from. 

Review of Home of the Brave

Applegate, Katherine. (2007). Home of the brave. New York: Square Fish. ISBN 0-312-53563-5.

            For anybody that has never braved a Minnesota winter, imagine that moment of walking out into our crisp, freezing cold air.  Kek, a 12-year-old Sudanese boy, experiences that exact moment in Katherine Applegate’s multicultural novel Home of the Brave.  A refugee, who has already seen more than any man should ever have to, travels to make a new home in Minnesota with his aunt and cousin.  Unsure of whether his mother is still alive, Kek is forced to make a new home for himself amongst strange gadgets, new ideas, and friends both 2-legged and 4-legged.  He feels comforted by a beautiful, long-lashed cow because somedays it seems she is the only connection he has with his former existence.  The customs and expectations of America are new to Kek, but as he applies his African understandings to his new surroundings he gradually finds a new home.

            This novel is very unique in that it is a multicultural novel told in free verse.  These poems create the perfect home for the similes and imagery Applegate uses to describe Kek’s understanding of his new world.  Comparisons are made between what we understand as part of our American lifestyle and the way that Kek’s Sudanese mind recognizes them.  “Pillows like mounds of grass” and “summers [being] like a present with a bow” are examples of similes the author uses to describe the new sensations Kek encounters.  So many modern conveniences are new to him, but the imagery used throughout the novel help to explain how these items appear to those who are unfamiliar.  Washing machines can “hum and talk” and even busses have “hungry metal mouths beside the driver” that eat your money.  The power of the figurative language threaded throughout the free verse poetry is that readers have access to a perspective that is completely different than their own. 

            The strongest character in the book is that of Kek’s new best friend Ganwar, the cow.  Ganwar is one of the few links the refugee has to his old home.  In Sudan, his people were cattle herders and understanding the animals was a vital part of your success.  Kek truly respects Ganwar and sees in her eyes feelings that no one has ever there discovered before.  She provides the first stable element in his new life in America: a job.  Through having a stable job and relationships, Kek’s confidence grows and he learns to navigate his new home independently.  Kek runs to his cow friend when it seems the world is at its darkest, and she provides comfort for him.  Even though Ganwar can’t speak she is the most important character because of all that she offers to the protagonist.   

            The theme of kindness extends from the characters into the plot.  In many novels, America and its people can become the antagonist of the story; this is not the case in Home of the Brave.  The majority of the characters show great kindness.  From Dave, the man who helps refugees settle into their homes and navigate the legal system, to Lou, Ganwar’s owner and Kek’s employer, readers are introduced to characters who want nothing more than to see the refugee succeed.  Kek also meets truly loyal friends like Hannah, who patiently explains the nuances of American living, and Mrs. Hernandez, the ESL teacher, who make it a priority to be kind to the young boy.  I most admire this book because it doesn’t take the easy way out and make America out as a bad place but rather one that can offer great kindness to those that come here to create a new home. 

Review of The Adoration of Jenna Fox

Pearson, Mary E. (2008). The adoration of Jenna Fox. New York: Henry Holt and Company. ISBN 978-0-312-59441-1.

            The Adoration of Jenna Fox is a work of science fiction.  Jenna Fox, a 16-year-old girl, wakes up after a year-long coma to find that she isn’t the person that she is told she should be.  Her parents encourage her to watch videos that chronicle her life because, according to them, they will help her remember.  However, Jenna quickly realizes that as she is getting reacquainted with herself, the images she sees don’t match with who she is becoming.  While she is physically awake, she has continuous memories that awaken her only to reinforce that her parents are hiding something from her and that her body and her mind aren’t what they used to be.

            The theme of restoration is seen throughout the novel.  Sometimes this theme is seen in very simple terms.  For example, Jenna’s mother Claire’s profession is to restore traditional brownstones to their former glory; she found great success this career in her hometown of Boston and she is finding it again in her California relocation.  The theme is repeated, in a slightly deeper way, with the character of Lily, Jenna’s grandmother.  Lily, a retired doctor, enjoys her hobby of gardening but her true passion lies to in creating a simpler version of plants.  In her eyes, plants have been jeopardized through the years by scientific findings; she wants to restore these simple plants to their former glory.  Jenna herself is constantly trying to restore herself to what she used to be.  She watches videos to learn how she is expected to act, and she follows directions given to her by her mother because it is what she is supposed to do.  However, Jenna constantly struggles with how she can become restored if she doesn’t believe she is the same person she used to be.  The idea of restoration exists throughout the book, sometimes in subtle ways and sometimes not, but readers are left with the idea that as we seek restoration we must also deal with the history that created something to be what it is. 

            The genre of science fiction challenges readers to imagine how the world can change in the future and the role technology will play down the road.  The time period for this piece of fiction is undetermined, yet we know that many medical advances have been made.  A substance exists, Bio Gel, that can preserve bodies and organs for years by enabling the cells of the liquid to become loaded with information about its need and learn to specialize in that need.  The American government has caught up with the alarming trends in medicine by creating the Federal Science Ethics Board that police the use of technology and allowing point values for all procedures; each person, young or old, healthy or sick, is granted one hundred points in medical work for a lifetime.  Bio Gel threatens what the government has declared as being ethical.  The questions raised in Mary Pearson’s novel make us wondering how much fiction from this novel is possible, and if it isn’t possible now – when?

            One unique quality found in this book is the use of both prose and poetry.  As one flips through the book you notice that there are gray pages interspersed throughout the book.  The text on these pages is written in free verse poetry and creates a drastic contrast to the prose used throughout the book.  Initially readers wonder why there are white pages and gray pages or text in prose or in poetry.  Then as one moves through the novel, we come to the understanding that these pages represent the deepest, most difficult thoughts Jenna has.  These thoughts are a gray area for her because they are not ones that she is safe to share with other people.  The dichotomy created by this contrast is a great example of literature that breaks rules and is worth noticing.  It is this unexpected change in the pages that create a stark difference with the rest of the novel.  Readers are allowed to get to know the protagonist in an honest, real way.

            In the beginning of the novel, Jenna appears as a brooding, slightly annoying character, but readers get over that quickly as questions continue to build in their mind.  Why is Jenna’s mother acting so strangely around her daughter and why is Lily so disengaged with her once highly valued granddaughter?  What role will the medical technologies of the time play in the novel?  The strength of this novel lies in that readers continue to ask questions throughout the novel.  In the beginning, we wonder how the story will progress but our questions morph into questioning what we believe is possible and what is ethical.  There are many science fiction novels that challenge teens to think about the medical advances we make everyday, but it is in this novel that we have to think about how far is too far.  We are left to wonder what we would do to preserve and restore our loved ones.

Response to Maus

One of my favorite students this year is also one of my trickiest.  Matt is a Special Ed student but doesn’t want people to know.  So instead of letting it show that he doesn’t understand something, he goofs off.  I have succeeded in giving him a book or two that he has enjoyed and I thought that Maus might be one of them.  I offered it to him and he refused because he “doesn’t like comics”.  I took this opportunity to explain to him that it is a graphic novel and told him about the characteristics of this type of book.  I bought in until he opened the book and saw the mice.  He decided that he wasn’t going to read a comic book about mice.  I showed him that the Nazis were cats and pointed out the importance of cats and mice being sworn enemies.  I never did convince him to read the book, but it certainly got me thinking about how important the visuals of a graphic novel can be when readers are assessing them.  Where Matt was completely put off by the book about mice, I was intrigued by all the animals.  He viewed this book as childish because his understanding of literature hasn’t developed past seeing only pictures of cartoon animal.  I viewed this book as profound and understated because I was able to not only understand the choice of animals but could appreciate them.  It creates an interesting dichotomy between reading for pleasure and reading critically.  To read the book aesthetically, you have to be able to understand the symbolism.  Older adolescents could understand the meanings on their own, but the details would be lost on middle schoolers.  However, with some guidance it would be a fun book to introduce to younger adolescents with the purpose of teaching about the Holocaust and literary symbolism. 

Something I have enjoyed recently is creating mental book bundles. A book bundle is combining a few titles together that share some similarity: theme, time period, etc.  I like to make groups of books that I would combine because it helps me to make connections between what I am reading now and what I have already read.  It also helps me to have a running list in my head so that I can easily recommend a book to a student in response to a title that they liked.  I teach about Anne Frank in my 8^th grade Language Arts class.  My students are always amazed when they hear the family was sent into hiding and the tiny apartment that they shared.  Maus shows that the Franks’ hiding place was paradise comparatively.  Maus focuses on the experiences of those in hiding; The Book Thief complements the graphic novel nicely because it also puts focus on the experience of those risking their lives to hide others.  Lastly, I enjoyed Maus because it offered experiences of the Jews living in Poland.  An adult nonfiction book I read lately, The Zookeeper’s Wife, also shared details of another brave family that was living during the Holocaust in Poland.  I enjoy challenging myself to make these groupings because it encourages to make connections with other things that I’ve read and to seek out other titles to read in the future. 

This story’s setting moved around many times.  The nature of the book required that the physical setting changed constantly as the family was moved from one place to another, but the time period also shifts much more dramatically.  The balance of the story rotates between modern time in America and the Holocaust period in Poland.  This balance is interesting because we get to know Spiegelman’s father in two ways: the way he was and the way he is.  In modern time, he is thrifty, insistent, and cold but caring.  His history shows that he is brave, giving, and resourceful.  Readers know that the two men are the same, but their personalities don’t share many similarities.  We are led to believe that his experiences during the Holocaust have changed him.  Readers are also told that these stories are the memories of the father retold by his son; can these second-hand memories be trusted?  The events have lived on in the father’s memory, as they have for decades, and they end up The images that are shared between father and son can be painful but ring of truth.  The shift between modern time and history helps the story to gain ground and appear honest, even in all its pain. 

The most impressive aspect of this book is its characterization through illustration.  We place certain characteristics upon all animals.  Speilgelman played upon these ideas very creatively by assigning certain races and groups of people to be represented by particular animals.  At first I was confused by the depiction of the Jews as mice.  But through the eyes of Spiegelman it fits – mice and quiet, crafty, and are survivors.  Mice are powerless creatures, just as the Jews were powerless throughout the Holocaust.  The first image that struck me as odd was on page 15 when pigs appeared.  Pigs?  The pigs represented the Poles.  Even the Jews wear pig masks to disguise themselves.  Was this because pigs are stubborn?  Or lazy?  I am not sure, but the majority of interactions between the pigs and mice were positive.  Pigs and mice are not enemies.  While I initially thought that mice would represent all characters I realized that different groups would be depicted as different animals.  Page 35 displays a very festive party with mice, pigs, frogs, and rabbits.  On page 33 we see our first Nazi, and, not surprisingly, he is represented as a cat hunting the mice.  The most unexpected character depiction was that of Americans on page 125.  We see an American helping Vladek in a bank and he is represented as a dog.  Again when it is put into the big picture, it makes sense.  The mice are hunted by cats, and the cats will be overpowered by the dogs.  In a graphic novel, Speigelman uses the common characteristics of familiar animals to help us to better understand the groups of people seen throughout the book. 

Response to American Born Chinese

           I went to a BER conference a few weeks ago.  The purpose of the conference was for educators to learn about Young Adult Literature that came to market in 2010.  I was excited to go to this conference because of how excited I have become about Young Adult Literature and to be surrounded by like-minded people.  I was carrying a copy of American Born Chinese with me in my purse to read during breaks and lunch.  The woman next to me struck up conversations about my graphic novel and asked my opinion.  I told her that I was really enjoying the book and that I couldn’t wait to recommend it to many of my students, especially some reluctant readers.  Then, the whole conversation changed.  She asked whether I was worried about my graphic novel being racist; I of course responded that I felt the opposite because the themes of the book test the beliefs both immigrants and non-immigrants hold about their presence in society.  Again, an even more dangerous shift occurred in our discussion.  She started in on a tirade about how she won’t put Anime books on her shelves because she thinks that the depiction of characters’ eyes in these books is racist.  As a white woman, she was offended about the Western style eyes that you see on Asian characters in Anime books.  I simply said that I disagree and that I really enjoy Anime art and am constantly impressed by my students’ Anime drawings.  While American Born Chinese isn’t Anime, this woman lumped it in that category because of the Asian characters.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about it but knew that I was ignorant about the topic.  I did a little bit of research on the Internet on some decidedly sketchy-at-best websites, but I wonder if there is more research regarding this topic.  I found some opinions about Western culture being imposed on the Japanese people, and other beliefs that blond haired and blue eyed are made to be heroes in Manga.  If there is anything that I have learned in this class, it is that there are many things about literature that I don’t know that I don’t know.  Do some consider Anime art to be racist?  I guess I have to add this question to the list but chose to include it in my response because it is something that I would like to see discussed in class. 

            I imagine that I share a common experience with many readers of American Born Chinese; I had absolutely no idea how the three stories were going to be intertwined.  A story about a power-hungry monkey, an Asian boy with typical teenage doubts, and a white boy who is embarrassed about his stereo-typical cousin has absolutely nothing in common.  As a purely aesthetic reader, I really enjoyed seeing these 3 stories come together.  It was both unexpected and enjoyable.  Stories written in this way entertain readers by causing them to constantly think about the connections between the stories.  I found that while I was very into each of the separate stories, I also kept turning the pages to find how they would all be connected.  This book would entice reluctant readers with its visual components but also encourages them with a steady, surprising plot to keep them reading. 

            This graphic novel is very visually interesting.  The cover’s bright color is eye-catching and lures readers with its half image of a teenager.  It is bound like a traditional novel and until one opens it they have no indication that it is a graphic novel.  The interesting visuals continue throughout the book.  Gene Luen Yang illustrates the Monkey King chapters with whimsical images of animals, deities, and battle scenes.  The scene featuring Jin shows a realistic world of people of different shapes, sizes, and race.  While Danny and Chin-kee’s scenes use exaggerated illustrations to rub our noses in the stereotypes our society holds of Asian immigrants.  The visuals come together to create a graphic novel that uses the illustrations to not only tell an interesting story, but also to emphasize the points each chapter strives to make: fantasy, real-world, and perception. 

While the illustrations are used as a tool to emphasize the story being told, the actual plot of the novel discusses intricate themes that can be seen in our American society.  Jin struggles throughout the book to blend in with society around him.  He perms his hair, encourages Wei-Chen Sun to speak English, and shuns traditional Chinese beliefs.  He wants to blend in with the white students and ultimately wants to date Amelia.  Ultimately we discover that Jin wants so badly to be white that, in his mind, he transforms himself into a white boy.  Annually, his stereotypical cousin who exemplifies everything he tries to avoid haunts him.  We learn that these stereotypes are not just ones that American society holds of Asian students, but also the ideals the immigrants try to shed to fit in.  This book would be a great mirror for young readers to look through.  No matter the race, all students could look at this book and realize the struggles that we all face when we try to fit in.  It is especially poignant for students that are either first- or second-generation immigrants as they see themselves trying to navigate society’s ideas and leave those opinions behind.

Review of A Great and Terrible Beauty

Bray, Libby. (2003). A great and terrible beauty. New York: Delacorte Press. ISBN 0-385-73028-4.

            A Great and Terrible Beauty is the story of Gemma Doyle, a sixteen-year-old girl.  Gemma lives in 19^th century India and leaves a normal existence.  She fights with her mother and she yearns for the independence to be sent to England to study.  Then one day her “normal” is shattered when she has a vision for the first time, and terrifyingly witnesses her mother’s death.  She moves to England, although not under the conditions she had hoped for, where her remaining family members decide that she must attend a finishing school to prepare her for a suitable marriage.  Her visions become more terrifying and more uncontrollable.  Amid baffling visions, she tries to maneuver around intimidating social pressures, eerily familiar local folklore, and a foreboding stranger who warns her to avoid her visions at all costs.  Gemma discovers that not only did her mother have an intimate connection to a mysterious supernatural group of women but also that it is Gemma’s fate to keep the world safe from the power lurking in the Realms.  But will Gemma be able to resist the temptations of the easy road?  Or will she have the courage to take the more challenging path?

            Libby Bray’s fantasy novel is an example of how one book doesn’t have to fit neatly into just one genre of literature.  A Great and Terrible Beauty takes place at a boarding school for girls in Victorian England; the purpose of the school is to prepare young women to make a good marriage with a rich man.  Yet Gemma possesses a quality that enables her to travel into an alternate universe.  The social expectations placed upon these girls play an intricate part in the plot; some characters’ life goal is to marry well, while others refuse to settle for anything less than true love.  Responsibility is essential when deciding how to use the power of the Realms.  19^th century England was a very real place rich with history, however the ability of Gemma and her friends to travel to another realm are not explained or even doubted.  Throughout the book, the historical context of the novel is believably balanced with the aspects of fantasy that create the structure of the plot.  Readers buy into both the history and the fantasy. 

  

          Critically, this book had many strengths that made it worthy of recommendations for both middle-schoolers and high-schoolers alike.  Temptation is a theme that is found across genres.  In Beauty, this theme is explored in terms of friendship, sexuality, and decision-making.  And conveniently, by nature, temptation creates great suspense in stories.  Readers constantly need to know the consequences of a particular encounter or the next steps in a maybe-maybe-not romance.  Teenage girls, like Gemma, have many decisions that they need to make.  As readers following the effects of these decisions, we are anxiously awaiting to see if there will be negative effects for poor decisions and if the characters will be rewarded when they finally get it right.  This combination of theme and suspense creates a book that keeps readers questioning and wanting more. 

            As is true in many novels with historical settings, the situations have many parallels with modern society.  Anybody walking into a school today sees the cliques that hunt the hallways.  There is a reason why the movie “Mean Girls” created a common moniker to describe some feminine adolescents.  Many teenage readers would easily connect with the 19^th century mean girls that Gemma meets when she enrolls in her boarding school.  These young ladies torment her, are jealous of her, and use her for what she can do for them.  Readers wonder whether Gemma’s “friends” are truly the definition of friendship, just as adolescents doubt their own relationships.  While the one cannot ignore the historical context, all readers can relate to Gemma’s dynamic relationships and social predicaments. 

Response to Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World

             As an adolescent myself, nonfiction was always a tough sell for me.  Nonfiction is all about the facts, and in my opinion facts meant science.  And let me tell you, anything with science attached was rated right up there with watching paint dry.  I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than science.  I realized that history was made up of facts but that remained completely separate in my younger mind.  History was made up of factual stories; obviously the presence of stories made those facts less intimidating.  But would I ever, by choice, select a nonfiction book?  Absolutely not.  As an adult, I have ventured in the genre of nonfiction but very hesitantly and only with historical nonfiction (my older self still equates history with stories).  In an effort of full disclosure, my childhood lens of nonfiction is still intact.  As I approached Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World, I knew I was going to read a real story about a famous explorer and his failed expedition to Antarctica.  I was excited to hear a true story of A harrowing, against-all-odds adventure.  If I knew that I was going to learn about climate, zoology, and the science of navigation my younger self would have scoffed.  Admittedly, my older self would’ve scoffed.  However, Jennifer Armstrong tackled my nonfiction prejudice head-on by telling a story that is both historical and scientific while keeping my attention.  Dare I say that I actually learned something?  My younger self looks a little sheepish now.     

            Building background knowledge is a basic key to scaffolding a student’s understanding.  As a teacher, you constantly have to build students’ background knowledge or play into what they already know.  Either way, the inherent value of prior knowledge lies in the fact that students will understand better when they have the necessary background.  I realized early on that my basic knowledge of Sir Ernest Henry Shackelton was going to be an asset.  My 8^th graders study his expedition in Geography and complete a project in which they are all very engaged.  I have helped many of them with their project and, so therefore, have heard many 8^th graders’ versions of Shackelton’s adventure.  Knowing that I probably had only some of the facts, my background knowledge helped me to understand what I was reading.  Reading Shipwreck, I had a vague picture of this real-life adventure with large gaping holes where the actual facts should’ve been.  I was able to fill in those holes to complete my understanding as I went.  I know the value of prior knowledge in the classroom, but I always value the chance to experience it first-hand as a learner myself. 

  

          Any author, of fiction or nonfiction, wants to write something that holds readers’ attention from the first word to the last.  In Shipwreck, Armstrong grabs our attention with her first line and holds it by using pictures and maps that are both interesting and informational.  “Just imagine yourself in the most hostile place on earth.”  From the first sentence, readers are given a sense of great foreboding; I wouldn’t want to visit a place that was hostile, much less the most hostile place on the planet.  We are instantly flooded with questions about what we want to know.  Where is this place?  How do you get there?  What does this place look like?  What are the conditions in such a hostile place?  How long can one really survive in the most hostile of places?  The maps are a useful tool in answering many of these questions.  The maps include Antarctica, previous paths traveled, and paths that the explorers took throughout their adventure.  I found myself marking these pages and referring back to them as I read.  The map showing Shackelton’s path upon returning to South Georgia Island was especially helpful.   I found that each time the explorers had to change their path I would stop reading to check the map.  In the case of retelling the facts of an expedition, maps are especially helpful so that readers can track their progress on the actual land that they covered.  It creates the factual framework in which the story is told.  Equally helpful were the actual archival photographs taken by Frank Hurley.  These pictures helped to answer readers’ questions in images rather than words.  We were able to see exactly what the men saw, experience the harshness of their environment, and put the faces of the explorers with their names.  My favorite pictures were the ones that showed the human aspect of the expedition: Frank Wild with two of his dogs (pg 29), Greenstreet’s “breath icicles” (pg 68), and Saved! (pg 122).  The pictures served the purpose of putting pictures in our heads and we were then able to visually put these pictures and places on a map.  This combination supported the facts presented in the text and kept readers’ attention throughout the book.

            Most stories make more sense when they are told in a logical order.  In the case of Shipwreck, the most sensible organization is to tell the story chronologically.  I doubt that there was even a debate about how Shackelton’s story should be told.  For an added impact, the story, almost exclusively, follows the crew of the Endurance.  The story begins by briefly describing the leader’s previous treks to the Antarctic and leads into describing the preparations that were made before the ship could set sail.  Of course, the story continues in chronological order with the crew’s stop at South Georgia Island, their battle with the ice, the treks both on foot and in the boats, until it finally ends when the group separates for the first time.  The only time the chronological order is broken is during the chapter “Camp Wild”.  We heard in detail each event that occurred as the six men left the others behind in order to continue in their search for help, and readers witness when it is finally found after three of the men travel twenty-nine miles by foot.  Throughout these events, readers are never told how the crew members left behind are faring on Elephant Island.  There are many references to Shackelton’s concern for his crew, but we are not told about their condition.  The chapter “Camp Wild” rewinds the story four months and relives the experiences of the remaining men.  Besides this exception, the story remains strictly chronological and the narrator remains as a shadow to the entire crew.  Readers can feel the impact of this organization when Shackelton learns of the events that have transpired since he last left the whaling station.  We learn that the boat that was meant to meet their crew on the other side of Antarctica also met a terrible fate and that all of England was fascinated to know how the Endurance had fared.  We learn about these events as the crew does, and that reminds us that we forgot about the outside world just as the men must have forgotten how important their trip was to others also.  The organization of Shipwreck is logical and helps to present their adventure in a sensible and impacting manner. 

           Authentic facts create the entire purpose of writing nonfiction.  Gathering these facts would be no easy feat; however by looking over the bibliography Armstrong used a variety of sources to create her story.  As I was reading this book the quotes and photos always stuck out to me as being one of the most authentic touches in the book.  Rightfully so, these quotes come from a primary source-the actual Endurance diaries of crew members.  This change in point of view creates an informative dynamic.  I was interested in Shackelton, but I was also interested in the other crew members, including Worsley, Wild, and especially Blackborrow.  By including details from crew members’ diaries readers were given the broader context of the struggle.  Instead of it being just Shackelton’s battle (as history sometimes tells us), the inclusion of other perspectives helped us to understand that the root of the story lies in the efforts of everyone.  It wasn’t just Shackelton’s story to tell; it was the whole crew’s.

Response to Skellig

            It should be simple.  You read a book, and you like it or you don’t.  Yes or no.  However, what if it is neither?  What if you can’t decide?  And as you’ve probably figured out, I have absolutely no idea about how I feel about Skellig, and that feels very uncomfortable.  I feel like Goldilocks who can’t find an opinion that is just right.  If I were to say, that yes, I liked the book.  I would get caught up in the details that frustrate me.  I found it infuriating that Michael’s parents choose to buy such an irresponsible house with a baby on the way.  I found Mina’s home-schooled educated superiority infuriating, and I couldn’t get past shifting focus on who or what Skellig was.  Yet if I were to decide that I absolutely did not like the book, I wouldn’t be able to move beyond the themes that I related to in the book.  I liked the connectedness between the characters, Michael and Mina, Michael and his sister, and especially Skellig and the baby.  I liked that Michael was courageous enough to put Skellig before himself.  I want to have a firm stance on one side of the argument or the other, but I can’t.  And maybe that is the point.

            Just like I can’t decide whether or not I liked Skellig, I can’t figure out the enigma of the namesake of the book.  I have to wonder about David Almond’s intentions as he wrote this book.  Were the uncertainty and the questioning his intention in writing this story?  Readers are given evidence that Skellig is an owl, an angel, a man, and a dream.  He happily eats bugs and mice, although he prefers 27 and 53, and even spits up pellets containing bones and skin of small vermin.  Michael feels “the feathers, and beneath them the bones and sinews and muscles that supported them”; readers are led to believe by Mina’s knowledge of hollow birds’ bones that this must be the case for Skellig’s wings.  Yet we are also led to believe that Skellig is not a bird, he is far more heavenly-he is an angel.  Early on we hear Michael’s mother explain the purpose of shoulder blades.  “’They say that shoulder blades are where your wings were, when you were an angel…They say they’re where your wings will grow again one day.’”  We are not surprised that Skellig’s suit coat is restraining wings, growing from his shoulders.  But wait-maybe he isn’t an owl or an angel.  Maybe he is just a really special, human man.  Humans suffer from Arthur Itis, and humans, like Skellig, have a capacity for love and companionship.  However there is still support for one more explanation; maybe he isn’t even real at all.  Michael’s mother tells him, “’I saw this man…another dream…he was standing over the baby.’”  Maybe, maybe, maybe.  Some might like the uncertainty of the novel, but I felt that there was too much ambiguity.  There aren’t enough details to prove anything as being fact.  While I can appreciate that all opinions can be supported in the text, I found it to be frustrating that the purpose of Skellig is that an answer isn’t possible. 

            One of the reasons there is so much ambiguity in Almond’s book is that everything has a double meaning.  The author uses these multi-dimensional characters and objects as symbols that are meant to express more than one meaning at a time.  Not much time goes by in the course of this novel but we learn in the end of the book that “it was really spring at last”.  Spring, being a common symbol to evoke the feeling of new beginnings, has been on its way throughout the book, but finally appears when Michael is at peace with the baby and Skellig.  There is a lot of moving going in the book: Michael moves to a new house, the baby is moved back to the hospital, and Skellig is moved into Mina’s abandoned house.  These moves can represent how the characters are better able to take care of their loved ones.  Michael’s father works night and day to make a home that is better for Joy.  The baby has to go back to the hospital so that the doctors can better care for her and make her healthy, and Mina and Michael bring Skellig to a safe, roomier place so that he can get stronger with their help.  One scene in particular was built upon very interesting symbolism.  The fledglings, on which Mina and Michael have kept such a close eye, have finally emerged from their nest but are not yet ready to fly; they were hidden safely under the hedges by their parents so that they could be cared for and protected.  The parents will keep a close eye on them, feeding and watching, until the little ones are strong enough to fly.  This is an especially poignant scene considering that Michael’s baby sister is dying in a hospital and needs to be under constant observation.  Mina is fascinated by the process and shares it with Michael’s father, who then tells Mina to “’just keep believing…and everything will be fine.’”  The father understands the parallels between these vulnerable baby birds and his baby daughter.  Symbolism adds depth to a novel.  However, in Skellig is the symbolism too much of a good thing?  The intended audience, adolescents, might pick up on some of the hidden details.  But when everything is a symbol for something else, I know that even I missed out on some of the underlying themes.

            Structure of a novel is a powerful tool.  In the case of Skellig, it helps to set up the pace and makes it more readable.  The chapters of this novel are extremely short; most are just two or three pages.  Because of this, there are so many natural breaks that as a reader you don’t know which one to take.  As I read, I could always find an excuse to read just one or two more pages because it wasn’t committing that much more time to continue reading.  Because of this structural choice, I found that the book was very easy to read.  It was easy to continue to read and to maintain interest in what you were reading.  Also, by having many short chapters, the pace of the book was very fast.  There weren’t breaks in time in the plot, and therefore there weren’t breaks in the writing.  It created the effect that, as a reader, we were being given all of the information; we were truly a bystander to the action of the novel.  While structure isn’t the most powerful of all literary elements, it definitely plays an important role in setting the pace and readability of a novel. 

Response to The Graveyard Book

       Many books cross the neat borders that have been made to surround genres and groups of books.  While Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book is clearly fantasy, it crosses the border between Children’s Literature and Young Adult Literature.  However, considering the shiny Newbery Medal on the cover, mature readers can assume that the intended audience is children.  It was with this frame of mind that I read Bod’s story.  The fantasy genre entices young readers with worlds they haven’t seen and experiences they haven’t know.  Developmentally speaking, children’s brains can finally understand the difference between reality and imagination.  Through the recognition of the differences between our world and these other fanciful ones we can learn to understand the world around us.  Bod learns to deal with one of the world’s universal struggles, death, with appreciation and peace; perhaps readers can walk away with the same feeling.  How beautiful it is that the dead are shown as living a full and worthy existence.  They are represented as having families, friends, loyalties, and parties.  If I were a child who lost a loved one, this image is far more comforting than that of a ghost that haunts you.  To give children credit, I believe that most that read this novel know that it is imagined, not reality.  However, the portrayal of death in this book demonstrates that there is an alternative way of understanding the images of the dead.  This alternative is one that we can appreciate and find peace in. 

            Apparently no matter where you go, whether it is a school, a street corner or a graveyard, you can not get away from bullying.  The problem has been going on for as long as there have been children interacting.  But in current society, bullying has become a buzz word, and rightfully so.  Without climbing any higher on my soap box, I will just say that it is a problem that needs to be addressed in many ways and in many places.  In Chapter 6 Nobody Owens’ School Days readers learn that even a boy that is raised by ghosts can become engaged in bullying.  All books, fantasy books included, reflect a character that reflects some sort of struggle that readers can relate to.  In bullying terms, Bod is a victim, bystander, and bully himself; all students can relate to one, if not all, of these roles.  As a victim, Bod got stabbed by a pencil and complains that as a result of the unwanted attention he has “[become] a presence, rather than an absence”.  While sitting in the library Bod overhears the bullies, Nick Farthing and Mo Quilling, harassing Paul Singh.  Bod is the best kind of bystander because after he witnesses bullying, he does something about it by encouraging Paul to react.  As a means of fighting back against the bullies, Bod scares Nick off by performing a terrifying Dreamwalk and threatens Mo with eternal haunting.  He goes a step beyond just sticking up for himself and therefore becomes a bully who is threatening other kids.  So what ideas about bullying does Bod, and therefore the readers, walk away with?  Unfortunately, the messages readers get are conflicting.  In the imagined world of Old Town, we learn that reacting to a bully by bullying them back will get them to leave you alone.  In reality, this strategy is highly discouraged with victims because it perpetuates the cycle.  The second message readers learn is that you can successfully run away from their bullies; Bod did.  Again in modern times, running away doesn’t solve the problem and can’t repair the damage inflicted by a bully.  While I appreciate that bullying is addressed in a subtle way in this novel, I found the messages to be skewed from what is important to discuss with children.

            I find that my mind works like a crayon box.  My mind sees everything in bright, bold colors.  I surround myself in color: my clothes, my decorating, and even my organization.  I have been known to describe my classroom as looking like “a crayon box threw up in it”.  Because of this, I always notice the distinct absence of color and as I read I consistently thought about the lack of color in The Graveyard Book.  It left me unnerved.  The tone of the novel is eerie and gloomy.  It was as though the entire book occurred under the darkest, stormiest cloud in which everything is dreary.  Neil Gaiman begins his book with the line: “There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.”  And there it was.  Darkness.  Not the darkness of other literature, books that are pessimistic, pained, and despondent.  The darkness of this book was literal; Graveyard was void of light and color and occurred through various stages of night.  As I was reading, I visualized it in shades of gray, some white, some black, and no color.  Everything that traditionally has color, ivy in a graveyard for example, appeared in my mind as a darkened version of the color you would only see at night.  Images of shadows appear throughout the book.  However, as you flip through the book you run into Scarlett, the name of an important character but also a bold shade of red.  You meet Indigo Man, a spirit, who is marked with bright purple rings around his eyes.  The sky above the path to Ghûlheim is described as “…red, but not the warm red of a sunset.  This was an angry, glowering red, the color of an infected wound.”  Lastly, the brooch Bod takes from the Indigo Man’s tomb is described as “glittering silver; a crimson-orange-banded stone”.  The colors appear so stark against the darkness of the story that they emphasize the importance of each of these items.  These images of color create a welcome imbalance of the tone of darkness in the book. 

             The idea is far-fetched: a young boy is raised by ghosts in a graveyard and is given special gifts for protection and to help him survive.  Yet I “bought it”, the whole story, from beginning to end because the characters had believable personalities and somehow the implausible became plausible.  Mrs. Owens, Bod’s mother, has the same concerns for her child that any mother would have.  Her motherly instinct kicks in when she learns that a baby has been abandoned and is in danger.  She needs to protect the baby and proves her certainty by stating that she is “’sure as I have ever been of anything.’”  Everyone has seen the same look on their mothers’ face that Bod sees after visiting Abanazer Bolger’s shop and no punishment is worse than obvious disappointment.  “The look of worry on Mrs. Owens’s face had hurt Bod worse than any beating could have done.”  Ghost or human, Mrs. Owens is Bod’s mother and readers don’t doubt it.  Similarly, readers should have a harder time understanding Bod’s relationship with Silas.  Silas is not alive, but he is not dead; he is undetermined.  Yet, as you read, this detail doesn’t matter because Silas is such a caring character.  He, too, acts disappointed in Bod but is quick in “enfold[ing] the living child inside his cloak” and bringing him to safety.  In the end, we learn that as a guardian Silas has been protecting, in both presence and absence, Bod all along.  The believability of these characters lies in the fact that they are people that we know.  The characters, a worried mother, a protective guardian, even a jealous admirer (Liza Hempstock), are people that we believe in our daily lives, and therefore can easily believe in fantasy.

            Bod is the hero of the story, and like all heroes, he has to go through a long journey to win in the end.  His journey is broken up by the chapters in The Graveyard Book.  Each chapter gives readers the impressions that they are separate short stories that could stand alone.  I had the feeling that each detail, Scarlett and the Sleer, Liza Hempstock, and learning to Fade, would all come together in the end, but I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly happen.  As it turns out, each of Bod’s stories outline knowledge he had to gain and tasks that he had to master.  Ultimately, he was able to use all that he had learned to overcome evil.  Sound like other books you’ve read?  Ultimately, Bod’s quest resulted in his complete understanding of the world around him, inside and outside the gates of the cemetery.  He used his knowledge to outsmart the Jacks, and therefore ridding the world of a most terrible evil.  Bod’s unique quest proved again that good wins out over evil and that knowledge is power.  Neil Gaiman’s book is a great example of how age-old struggles can be retold in new voices and in unique stories. 

Response to Luna

           It was refreshing to read Luna.  It was refreshing because it has been some time since I read a book that left me asking all sorts of questions.  While reading Julie Ann Peters’ novel, I wondered about the characters, the author’s perspective, what I already know, and most importantly, what I don’t.  This book left me considering the perspectives our culture holds about transgender people.

            As I read I first asked, which of these characters were expected and which were unexpected?  In terms of modern society, I wonder…how often are people truly what we expect?  Like many people, I have never met anyone that is struggling with their gender, much less finding ways to “transition”.  Therefore, I only have my pre-conceived notions to guide me and ignorantly have little knowledge about transgender people.  That being said, Luna was a very unexpected character.  I’m not sure what I expected, but I was moved by what I learned about her.  Too often, we see public figures like RuPaul and are left to assume that this is what the definition of transsexual is.  How wrong we are!  As Luna points out RuPaul is nothing but a drag queen and not (to our knowledge) contemplating SRS.  Luna’s fear of being dressed as a girl in public was just one example of what I found refreshingly vulnerable.  Admittedly, my assumptions got the best of me because I assumed that people in this situation are proud and happy.  We hardly see these struggles reflected in society; we only see the success stories.  But now I question, stripped of cameras and publicity, what struggles do these figures tackle in order to become so confident in their own skins?  Regan’s reactions towards her brother were also refreshingly unexpected.  My hope is that people transitioning have a strong, supportive person behind them, and Liam did.  However, Regan’s character was painfully honest.  She constantly did what her brother needed her to do.  By doing so, she pushed her needs and feelings aside in order to help and openly acknowledged that it was as painful for her as it was for him, albeit in a completely different way.  On the flip side, I felt that Luna and Regan’s father was a stereotype of himself.  I mean, come on!  The father of the transgender teen works at Home Depot because he got laid off as an appliance salesman at Sears.  The only way it could’ve been more expected is if he was a construction worker.  While tackling an issue polluted with stereotypes, Julie Ann Peters is guilty of using common ideas about other types of people.  Coming from a home in which my brother struggled because of my father’s male expectations for him, I understood the importance of this totally expected, stereotyped character.  Many men in male-dominated fields find confidence in their masculinity and want to impress that upon their sons.  The dad’s flat character emphasized the judgments impressed upon those that challenge traditional gender roles.  The balance of characters that I both expected and unexpected help to emphasize society’s knowledge about this culture.

            When do facts in a work of fiction fit seamlessly into a novel and when do they become contrived?  As a rule, I despise books that are preachy; I prefer my learning during a piece of fiction to be implicit.  Because of this, Liam’s diatribe about the history of TG’s comes off as artificial.  Close isn’t sufficient in describing the brother and sister’s relationship, and as readers, we can imagine the multitude of conversations they have had about TG’s.  Taking into account the importance of the subject to him, his intelligence, and the honest conversations the two of them have, I found it unbelievable that the Native American’s “two-spirit people” and Joan of Arc had never come up.  I felt that this excerpt’s purpose was to educate the readers.  And while it was quite informational, it didn’t ring true with the characters or the tone of the novel. 

            Critically speaking, how does an author choose when a story begins when there is so much background information needed?  Luna’s story begins mere months before the end of the novel.  Questioning one’s gender is not a matter of just a few months.  Peters weaves a current story with Regan’s memories of Liam’s development; the balance of past and present was sound.  However, the structure Peters used to reimagine the memories was especially poignant.  I had read the first two memories when I realized that my reading flow kept getting interrupted.  Traditional writing breaks a word over two lines with a dash separating two syllables.  As readers, we stop noticing this break because we have never read anything different.  It is different in Luna.  During the memory scenes, and only in the memory scenes, words are broken over lines by syllable but without the prerequisite dash.  For example, instead of a standard “ac-tivities”, we see on page 194 the word is broken as “ac tivities.”  Similarly, on page 39, we see “base ment” and “morti fied” instead of “basement” and “mortified”.  This doesn’t seem like a big deal, is infrequent, and hardly noticeable, but upon reflection the impact is powerful.  The memories are a choppier read than the rest of the novel, just as our own memories are more uneven than our reality.  We stumble over painful memories, just as Regan hesitates over hers. This is a great example of how a small change in structure can impact the truth of the story that is being told.  

            Lastly, I wonder, Regan feels every emotion in a strong way, how can an author successfully describe that severity of feeling?  As an English teacher, I teach about imagery, similes, and hyperbole, but I have never read a novel that has used figurative language as such a powerful and effective tool in description.  Regan observes, “Liam looked so brittle, I thought he’d break” and describes Murielle’s “curly hair [with] springing corkscrews all over her head”.  These comments create instant pictures in the readers’ heads; the pattern of these visualizations is found laced throughout the book.  The visuals readers create are more compelling because of Peters’ use of imagery.  Similarly, when describing the scene created when Luna came dressed as herself to school, Regan states, “that kind of news would have spread like an e-mail virus.”  By comparing gossip to a computer virus we understand that Luna’s story would pass from person to person quickly and inadvertently, and that the damage could be irreversible.  By telling readers that “defeat hung in the air like nuclear waste,” we realize the pain Liam’s parent’s rejection causes is closer to poison than disappointment. Lastly, the hyperbole used in this novel demonstrates the dramatic strength of Regan’s feelings.  “Liam’s face welded shut.”  “I was such a nun.”  “All the mental reminders and memories were jamming up my brain.”  Each of these examples over-emphasizes her feelings and creates an authentic reaction that any teenage girl would have.  Peters’ use of figurative language creates a story of unspeakable pain in a language that readers, especially in her intended audience, can easily relate to and understand.  

          

My favorite books are ones that challenge me to question what I have read and what I think.  Some of the best questions are ones that cannot be answered, but instead beg to be researched and contemplated.  Luna challenges us to think critically about what we already know and to learn more about a culture that is traditionally marginalized in our society.        

Response to The People Could Fly

           My earliest memory: I was sitting on the deck of my grandparent’s cabin.  There is family everywhere.  It is nighttime.  I choose to sit on my grandma’s lap-not my mom’s.  Before we count bats (once I get to 10 I have to go to bed), my grandma tells me stories.  We say nursery rhymes, we practice the alphabet, but my favorite part is her stories.  Her stories are the same ones that she listened to when she was growing up.  I never believed her when she said that she used to be my size, but I never doubted that whatever story was her favorite that night would be my favorite also. 

  

          Folk tales are an important part of all cultures and of most people’s childhood.   We share these stories with the people we love because we love these stories.  We have memorized the story of the Tortoise and the Hare, Cinderella, and countless others, and we don’t need the words on the page to tell the story for us.  Everyone cherishes these stories with a nostalgic fondness, but hardly ever, outside the world of academia, do we examine how these stories reflect our culture’s values.  As we get older, our literature classes teach us that folk tales have a meaning and this realization often times leaves us dumbfounded.  Childishly, we don’t realize that, through these stories, we are taught that you can outsmart evil people, that good wins out over bad, and that you will get punished if you do something wrong.  Most folk tales emphasize the difference between right and wrong.  The power in folk tales is that these values are impressed on us in an implicit way, and that our oral tradition helps us to understand our cultures in a way that textbooks and teachers cannot.  As children we don’t need to analyze the hows and whats of folk tales to learn behavioral rules and the beliefs of our culture. 

  

          The People Could Fly is a collection of American Black folk tales, but I struggled to find the meanings and values reflected in every one of the stories.  Folk tales are powerful because they live on through oral tradition.  We hear folk tales one by one and rarely stop to analyze their message.  A collection of folk tales leaves itself vulnerable to being simply a collection of stories and words on a page.  I couldn’t help but to observe that on paper the meaning of traditional tales are lost.  The stories are undoubtedly seeped in lessons and cultural meaning, but in this format, I found that some of Virginia Hamilton’s stories lacked relevancy.  With story after story, the tales ran together and the meaning of one story melded into another.  Had I been sitting on my grandparents’ deck, on my grandma’s lap, counting bats, and listening to a story that is important to my grandma, these stories would’ve had relevancy.  But words on a paper or a collection of culturally relevant stories will never be as powerful as the oral tradition in which they should be presented. 

            The structure of Virginia Hamilton’s collection of folk tales helps all readers, whether they are familiar with the stories or not, to understand the significance of each of the folk tales.  There are two elements of the structure that make her collection cohesive: the groupings for chapters and Hamilton’s insight after each story.  The organization of the chapters clusters all stories with similar motifs together; while the stories don’t build upon each other, a stronger understanding of the motifs in the genre of American Black folklore is created with each new story.  As in all chapters, all stories included in the chapter “He Lion, Bruh Bear, and Bruh Rabbit” have a consistent theme.  Each story has major animal characters with very few humans; the personification of the animals allows us to understand these animals to be symbols of humans.  The structure remains cohesive through the insight Hamilton offers after each story.  It teaches new information about the cultural importance, the meanings of concepts and words, and significance of certain character types and actions.  There are examples throughout the collection.  We learn that “Little Eight John” is meant to teach behavioral rules to children.  We can use her Glossary for Gullah Words after dialect-heavy “Bruh Alligator Meets Trouble” to better understand the story.  Lastly, we learn after “Tappin, the Land Turtle” that common “African animal prototypes” like the jackal, hare, and tortoise transitioned through time into the more American animals: a fox, rabbit, and turtle.  The structural consistency helps readers to build understanding of patterns in American Black folklore.

  

          All folk tales seem capable of being connected to one another through common links.  These motifs are what help us to feel that the story is familiar and that we have heard something like it before.  The American Black folktales used to make up this particular collection use both familiar and unfamiliar motifs found in common folk tales.  There are many examples of common motifs, such as the trickster in “Doc Rabbit, Bruh Rabbit, and Tarbaby” and magic and transformation in “Wiley, His Mama, and the Hairy Man”.  However, Hamilton introduces many new motifs that can be found in this culture’s folklore but in few others.  One unfamiliar motif mentioned was the magic-hoe motif in “Bruh Lizard and Bruh Rabbit”; Hamilton’s explains that this motif is common in Europe and Africa.   “The Beautiful Girl of the Moon Tower” mentions a life-in-an-egg motif, and while I haven’t heard any folk tales with this detail, I imagine it would be quite common in creation myths.  The weaving of the familiar and unfamiliar motifs made these stories both predictable and surprising at the same time.

            As mentioned earlier, Hamilton often has to clarify meanings of words in The People Could Fly.  The book uses dialect as a way to root itself in its traditions.  It is mentioned in the Introduction that the dialect “reflect[s] the expressiveness of the original slave teller, and later the free black storyteller.”  The story “Bruh Alligator Meets Trouble” uses the most Gullah words of all the stories.  In fact, so many words are used a glossary is necessary to translate them.  The Gullah language impacts the story by adding the authentic quality of an oral tradition; these words still exist and are understood because of their social significance.  It is also interesting that some statements remain in the tales even though their meaning has been lost through time.  One of my favorite stories, “A Wolf and Little Daughter”, uses a chorus sang by the young protagonist, but Hamilton explains that the meaning of this chorus “does not survive”.  The story is still an entertaining tale and readers are not put off by the lack of understanding; we are most interested in the young girl’s outsmarting of the wolf.  However, we are left to wonder if her song would add another layer of significance to the tale.  The use of dialect in this collection emphasizes the cultural traditions from which the stories were created.  The language reminds us that these stories have traveled many miles, many years, and through many people and experiences.  The traditional phrases remain as an important reason that these stories still exist.     

           American Black folk tales have an important place in American folklore because the stories have survived the same adversity as the storytellers themselves.  “No amount of hard labor and suffering could suppress their powers of imagination.”  The original storytellers didn’t set out to write their stories down or to have scholars study them generations later.  They created their stories with the messages that were important to them and with their words to inspire others and to inspire themselves.