In his first book for young adults, bestselling author Sherman Alexie tells the story of Junior, a budding cartoonist growing up on the Spokane Indian Reservation. Determined to take his future into his own hands, Junior leaves his troubled school on the rez to attend an all-white farm town high school where the only other Indian is the school mascot. Heartbreaking, funny, and beautifully written, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, which is based on the author’s own experiences, coupled with poignant drawings by acclaimed artist Ellen Forney, that reflect the character’s art, chronicles the contemporary adolescence of one Native American boy as he attempts to break away from the life he was destined to live.

Fun fact – Sherman Alexie gave a talk at my school during my freshman year of college. Not having heard of him before, I didn’t go. That was the biggest mistake, because otherwise I would have read this book a lot sooner than I did. I’ve been hearing good things for over a year now, and I’d been planning to read it for some time, but now I’m kicking myself for not reading it earlier, because it is SO GOOD.

Junior’s narrative is simultaneously funny and painful to read. Sherman Alexie strikes a really good balance of all the painful negative things in Junior’s life with a healthy dose of humor, irony, and sarcasm about his situation. The negatives include being poor, living on the reservation, his physical condition, and growing up in a world where almost no one expects him to be anything better than what his family and neighbors are. Still, Junior’s outlook on his life and the people around him is what makes the story so amazing. He knows who and what he is, and he’s not ashamed of that, but going to an all-white school outside the reservation makes everyone else, and even himself, feel that he’s betraying his family, his only friend Rowdy, and everyone else in the reservation. Throughout the story, there’s this constant navigation and coming to grips with the person Junior is, who he wants to be, and what defines him.

At the same time, Junior is a regular teenage-boy dealing with all the regular problems of growing up. One thing I really liked was that Junior was so honest and forthright about things like puberty, sexual attraction, and those awkward times when he shouldn’t have an erection but he does. He also likes playing basketball and drawing cartoons, the latter of which were shown through multiple examples to elaborate certain scenes or internal thoughts. Like the rest of Junior’s narrative, they’re a mix of entertaining, hilarious, sad, and super-intelligent. And that’s the thing – Junior is smart, perceptive, and self-aware. It’s those qualities that allow him to make the observations and claims he does, all of them dosed with his sarcastic, self-deprecating humor. But even though he has a number of qualities that make him ripe for being bullied – namely he’s small, weak, looks weird, and Indian (the latter only applies when he goes to Reardan) – he still recognizes the good qualities he has that allow him to respect himself. Not only that, but he cares so much about other people, including his family and his one friend Rowdy. Even when Rowdy shuns him and starts treating him like shit after Junior transfers schools, Junior keeps faith that they’ll one day be friends again because he knows they each played such a central part in each other’s lives for so long and each needed the other.

It’s hard for me to put into words how wonderful and meaningful this book is. It’s filled with quotes and passages I want to stick up everywhere that so clearly and accurately describe how Junior’s world works, as well as the various people in his life. No sentence is extraneous; every single one contains or contributes to a unique thought or observation. And the cartoons! The cartoons are just as excellent as the words. Suffice to say that this book is one of the most heartfelt, honest, and earnest books I’ve read in a while. Please, for the love of everything, read this book because it will, in Junior’s words, give you a metaphorical boner.

“Go to college, find a cute minority woman, preferably one with limited English, and colonize her by sleeping with her.” Maybe Ethan is really doing this? Or at least fears he is? What are my intentions? Maybe bring Charlotte home to shock family and no one actually cares. (For those of you who aren’t VV, this is a note about a novel I’ve written a million and one drafts of that isn’t as good as it should be. I know it could be good though. I’m not sure how to get it there entirely. I don’t know if I want to make this my next project. I don’t know if I want a next project. I’m have a crisis of the future here. It happens every few months when my mom offers me a good job in smalltown Wisconsin. (And I’m between writing project and don’t know what to fix/start next.) I’m walking a very precarious tightrope here, but there are reasons to walk that tightrope. I do like to be able to eat food when I am hungry though. But really, living with my mother in smalltown Wisconsin? This is the outline. I wanted to put up a whiny blog post about it, but I’m glad I got to sneak in a small bit here instead of doing more stupid complaining in full.)

It would be impossible to copy down each beautiful, perfect sentence.

“There was magic in the world. John knew that real Indians felt it every day. He had only brief glimpses of it, small miracles happening at the edges of his peripheral vision, tiny wonders exploding while his back was turned.”

Indian identity seems to mostly be telling people they don’t know what it means to be a real Indian. A forced recognition for the need/awareness of identity. I get to be a blank slate if I choose to be. I get the choice. The point here is Indians don’t get that choice, even though there seems to be no “true” Indian. I’m not as racist as that may seem, but rather lazy.

“The paragraph was a fence that held words.”

Are Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh sincere? Do they know they’re being inflammatory? Do they do so purposefully? Don’t get me wrong, I know the feeling/urge, but I operate on a significantly smaller scale. If I were somehow propelled to a larger scale, I can only imagine I’d get far, far worse though. Truck Schultze’s purposeful lying and shit-stirring seemed dishonest to me (not like what he was doing was dishonest, but that Alexie wasn’t writing the truth).

Valerie’s response

I can’t answer all your rhetoricals here, but they are provacative. This book was gifted to me recently and I think it’s almost time to read it. I’ve read Alexie in short form and am always impressed by his command of language. This book seems full of serious themes though, and I need some happy funny trash in between the DH Lawrence I just read and this, so I will review and get back to you after I read Bossypants.

Valerie’s review

Such great writing is refreshing after the blah I have been reading/editing…

I found it gripping from the start. The protagonist, being adopted and tribeless, is an amalgam of every lovable Indian archetype, mashup of Tonto and Nick in American Gods (strong silent) Hawk from Twin Peaks and beyond… The use of chief as casual to the point of they don’t know it’s rude/derogatory slang is infuriating, the reader beings to understand the rage brewing inside the man, from high school on. The Marie character easy to latch on to, to identify with her. My first college roommate is Lakota and the college experience was frustrating to her, the white men dispensing their version of of Indian people’s literatures, the syllabi making her cringe over and over.

I loved/was touched to sadness by his chapters on his imagined life on the reservation, such details: Scrabble with no e’s, haha, his mum’s unconditional luv, how she was never sorry for not giving him up… heartrending!

The paragraph about the knife is so pretty, poetic, wellwritten… I understand that Alexie is well-known for his poetry.

Despite his unique method for telling the tale, taking on the points of view of many varied characters, I felt he relied on some stereotypes and rote phrases to make a quick point in fastpaced writing/storytelling. It’s difficult to stretch one’s imagination into every race and gender, and he manages to pull off many voices in one story. One other critique is that it went on in circles a little bit, they could have trimmed a few redundant scenes like with the parents, for example, and in the bar.

The portrayal of Seattle’s homeless American Indian population is well done. Many different characters come through with recognizable personalities that are eerily realistic. I can see him going down under the viaduct to hang with them doing his research. Seattle as a setting was well hashed.

The murder scenes were always chilling. The Killer seemed mystical & freaky. I wept with relief when the small boy was returned home. The porn shop kill was well wrought and haunting.

I wish the radio host would have bit it, for spreading false information especially, but I think him being haunted by his own dirty conscience was possibly punishment enough. Though the Killer didn’t shut anybody up – by anybody I mean whites, speaking for native Americans…

The ending made me want to believe, like Marie believed, that John wasn’t the Killer. Nice twist and opening for the reader to make up one’s own mind. Though I kind of felt like he shamed me as a reader to have presumed John was the Indian Killer. He could have just been schizo/emotionally damaged and off his meds.

Found a link to http://www.bookcrossing.com/ with a number in the back that tracks who had read this book. Kind of like we used to see in library cards, but now it’s global and available on the Web. Two others had read my copy who had logged it.

In case you haven’t heard, our 2012 Everett Reads! author is Sherman Alexie. From his large body of work, we’ve chosen his National Book Award for Young People’s Literature winning The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian as the focus for this year’s program.

For many people Alexie first appeared on their radar with 1998’s film Smoke Signals (Alexie wrote the screenplay, based on his 1993 novel The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven). This was America’s first glance at Alexie’s accessible yet poignant humor and unique perspective on American Indian history.

Absolutely True has endured  since its original publication in 2007, and copies fly off the shelves at bookstores and libraries alike. Alexie’s often humorous-yet-serious insight into social issues, familial issues, teen angst, American Indian and popular culture continues to resonate.

Alexie is a renowned speaker, best known for his dry humor and honest,  genuine style. He is also an accomplished poet, having won several prestigious poetry awards. His work is also enjoyed by a wide-ranging age-group, and initially, this was one of the primary reasons we selected Absolutely True. Just a few months ago the library celebrated the grand-opening of its long-awaited Teen Zone, a space just for teens in the Main Library, and we wanted 2012’s Everett Reads! to compliment this momentous improvement. Alexie was the perfect choice.

There are so many great things that can be said about Absolutely True and Alexie’s accomplished body of work. But don’t take it from us, instead come discover them on your own. To aid you we’ve scheduled a series of events and speakers that will bring out Alexie’s many talents and that will hopefully inspire discussion throughout our community.

The fun starts this Saturday, February 4th at 7 pm with Alexie’s visit to Everett’s Performing Arts Center. After being inspired by the author, be sure to check out the other programs throughout the month of February. These include a fine selection of films, book discussions, programs on local tribal history, and, of course, a program about cartooning. 

Be sure to read, or listen to Alexie’s own narration of the book this month courtesy of the Everett Public Library. Until then, I leave you with one of Alexie’s recent poems to ponder (published in the May 16, 2011 issue of the New Yorker magazine):

A Facebook Sonnet

Welcome to the endless high-school
Reunion. Welcome to past friends
And lovers, however kind or cruel.
Let’s undervalue and unmend

The present. Why can’t we pretend
Every stage of life is the same?
Let’s exhume, resume, and extend
Childhood. Let’s play all the games

That occupy the young. Let fame
And shame intertwine. Let one’s search
For God become public domain.
Let church.com become our church.

Let’s sign up, sign in, and confess
Here at the altar of loneliness

Kate

It is a baffling thing to encounter racist runoff from the toxic waste dump of the power elite. The entire slaughter of Mexican American Studies by the TUSD and the good state of AZ is an end-game of the shenanigans of the Arpaiocracy that unleashed such brilliant Going Out of Business polices as the anti-Beaner SB 1070. Their explanation is that the books weren’t “banned,” but merely “boxed.” Perhaps, back in Germany, books weren’t “burned,” merely “incensed.”

The issue seems to be the power boys and girls are afraid that studying MacArthur winning Tohon O’odam poet Ofelia Zepeda is un-American. Cult-like. Divisive. Yes, that’s right–Indians are out too. Sherman Alexie, that notorious wetback, has been ba–ed, boxed. As well as that notorious narco, Guillermo Shakespeare. Thoreau–well. Come on. When isn’t Thoreau banned? I hereby make him an Honorary Homeboy.

It’s the last grip of a pasty, sticky tentacle, Cthulhu-like, stretching from the retiree and snowbird enclaves of Oro Valley and Sun City. The false belief is that ethnic studies ghettoizes students; the reality is that these classes often take students out from under the tentacle and open the gateway to the panoply of American literature and history. Inclusion, rather than segregation. I would think it’s segregation that divides us. Of course, the squid-like elder gods of the TUSD might be angry about the whole civil rights thing those crazy kids got into in the 60s.

AZ is a great state. They love literature. Believe me. But the arcons from beyond do not. Still, you know, it’s a 61% Latino district. In case the TUSD is a little weak on scholarship, one might be patient and point out that there are more of the silenced that there are of the silencers. Great Mexican poet Jaime Morrison once sang: “They’ve got the guns, but we’ve got the numbers.”

Now, you must excuse me. Newt just informed me that Spanish is a ghetto language. And Mitt has asked me to self-deport. I’m going to self-deport as soon as I can find a Mexican American Studies class to explain in real language what the rules are.

Sherman Alexie is a poet, short story writer, novelist, and filmmaker. His book “The Lone Ranger and Tonto’s Fist Fight in Heaven,” was on the banned curriculum of the Mexican American Studies Program:

“Let’s get one thing out of the way: Mexican immigration is an oxymoron. Mexicans are indigenous. So, in a strange way, I’m pleased that the racist folks of Arizona have officially declared, in banning me alongside Urrea, Baca, and Castillo, that their anti-immigration laws are also anti-Indian. I’m also strangely pleased that the folks of Arizona have officially announced their fear of an educated underclass. You give those brown kids some books about brown folks and what happens? Those brown kids change the world. In the effort to vanish our books, Arizona has actually given them enormous power. Arizona has made our books sacred documents now.

Dagoberto Gilb’s latest book is Before the End, After the Beginning. He’s also the author of The Flowers, Gritos, Woodcuts of Women, The Last Known Residence of Mickey Acuña, and The Magic of Blood, which won the PEN/Hemingway Award.

I had two books on the banned list—The Magic of Blood and Woodcuts of Women—so I’m very honored. I’m humbled. I have worked all my adult life trying to be an important writer in America and to our community, so I want to thank (Gracias, gracias!) the state of Arizona for its recognition. Although I was a little disappointed—we are ambitious peoples—that my new book didn’t get any attention. But in time, they’ll hate that, too.

Of course this banning is raw, ugly racism. But may I suggest that it’s good it’s out in the open and publicly displayed? And with this we teach metaphor:  our literature has always been put away, carted to storage. What’s new is that books got out, to ambitious, bright young people no less, and now has been confiscated. Doesn’t that sort of describe the Mexican American experience for the last 200 years? We’re not treated as if we’re from here, that we have our history here, that our land and history is part of the country’s land and history.

The usual insight to explain the ignorance about us is that we’re invisible to them.  If ever so, clearly not this to Arizona anymore. I’ve been trying to understand their ailment for years, and my latest is that they (you know, the governing culture) has an ocular disease like macular degeneration:  delighted to find tasty tacos and enchiladas in front of them, they don’t see any faces, only the hands that made them. Arizona would have no culture without the Mexican one, no cool Southwestern architecture or landscaping, no tourist cuisine. What Arizona loves about itself comes from a heritage that has no people, like they walked into a well-maintained ghost town.

What subversive information did those Tucson students learn? What is kept from the government-approved textbooks and classrooms all across the West?: You don’t have to be from somewhere else more important and better to be a lawyer or an artist or a doctor or scientist. You don’t have to leave your culture. You don’t have to be ashamed that your parents struggled with English. We don’t have to accept being only the cooks and maids, custodians and gardeners.

Arizona brings to a head, kind of like a boil, what we’ve been going through all these years.

I’d rather be positive. We’re so not ashamed of us. We know how many hours our family puts in, and we won’t stop. We see our beauty. Let them be ugly if they want.

Laura Esquivel is the author of several novels, including the bestseller “Like Water for Chocolate,” which was made into a major motion picture.

From the country of “freedoms,” the self-proclaimed defender of justice and international rights, from the country that fought against fascism in the 20th Century, from the country that has waged its latest wars by brandishing people’s rights to self-determination, from the country that has been built by immigrants—that is where the banning of several books, including one of my own, has originated, books snatched from students because the law deemed them detrimental.

Worse yet is that this initiative, one of the greatest blows against freedom of speech and culture, comes from Arizona, a state that was once a territory of Mexico.

I am very sorry for this, not so much because of my work, but because of an educational system that denied its students the right to receive another point of view, to know other ways of life, to find relief in a breath of fresh air that allows them to acquire a planetary consciousness.

I hope this situation can be overcome with the conscience and good judgment of those who strive and fight for a more open mentality, by those who wish that the principles of freedom become a reality in their own country.

Ana Castillo is the author of “Loverboys” and “So Far From God,” along with many other novels and books of poetry.

This is a mini-McCarthyish blacklist equating any Latin@ immigrant-related expression to the fear generated amongst the populace during the Cold War. This is not the only move to discredit Latin@ literature along the border, in particular Texas. The question during an election year to ask, especially for Arizonan voters, is: Yay or nay on our First Amendment and Freedom of Speech rights being systematically removed?

Jimmy Santiago Baca is a poet and novelist who has written more than a dozen books, several of which, including A Place to Stand, were banned by the Tucson school district.

It’s happened before.

When Europeans invaded the Americas, they took our books away and claimed they were civilizing us.

They wanted to take our right to determine our fates away.

They wanted to inflict their point of view and their version of reality on us.

They wanted to marginalize us as indigenous people who needed their guidance.

The banning in Tucson is a political tactic to oppress us, just the latest attempt of many to lie to us, to spread distortions, to enfeeble us by taking away our rights to education. They know that education is a way to achieve equality, to empower ourselves, to see ourselves with pride and enhance our self-esteem. Books that see us as intelligent, that reflect our experience in a healthy light, lend themselves to invigorating our resistance against injustice.

The order from state superintendent of schools John Huppenthal is simply an escalation of anti-immigrant sentiment. It’s a tacit admission of his racism. No matter how he veils his concern, each statement is a shroud to conceal his fear of Mexican Americans. This type of intervention is not merely a violation against my humanity, but beneath concept.

These crimes cloaked in the guise of educational reform are nothing more than an appalling attempt to imprison Mexican Americans so they have no chance at decent lives. While he wants us to accept his contemptible actions as credible and sugarcoats them with false compassion, this endeavor is nothing short of ripping apart the civil rights of Mexican Americans. He knows that without our books to educate ourselves, we condemn ourselves to a life of minimum wage servants always at the mercy of those more educated.

A group of Chicanos should go into Caucasian schools and take their books way.

The Chicanos should demonize them as inferior heathens.

They should wreck their self-esteem and demand they deserve no more a future than picking up trash on the highways.

They should stop and check them for weapons, for citizenship papers.

They should deport them and hold them in horrible holding prisons.

They should split apart their families and confiscate their homes.

They should buy the strong white males and use them as slaves and take the white women as mistresses, sell the children off to dirty old disgusting men for sexual use, and the whites who don’t go along obediently, drive them out to the desert and bury them.

It’s what they do to us and if they urge us to follow them and their wise paternal hand, that’s what we would be doing.

I could go on and on, but simply put, it’s an outrage, Mr. Huppenthal is a complete idiot, and stealing our books and blaming teachers as incompetent will never find traction.

The books will be returned, the students will again engage in self-determination. They will educate themselves, and their hope for a good future will again bloom.

You can’t stop us, Mr. Huppenthal.

You will go on in politics, spouting gibberish in other areas, prowling for other powerless victims on which to build your stature. You’ll be given a nice handsome check and extra privileges for inventing your lies and for spreading cancerous conflict.

We will go on to develop healthy lives, to protect our communities, to educate ourselves and nurture prosperous futures, despite your tyrannical impositions.

You cannot blind us to our love for our fathers and mothers and history and culture. You see, what drives us to attain good, successful lives is we love ourselves and the books that have helped us to honor our truth.

You, on the other hand, we will help. Many of the kids you offend today will one day be doctors, and they will help cure your seething hatred of Mexican Americans.

Postscript: When I was in prison in Florence, northeast of Tucson, the warden did the same thing to me: He came in and took my books and tried to force his way of seeing on me. I laughed at the attempt, and never thought in my wildest nightmares that another warden dressed up and cologned and paraded as a superintendent of schools would walk the landscape again blubbering his ghoulish rants, but Huppenthal is. They’ve banned six of my books. If I have to, Huppenthal, I will drive down personally and hand them out again to the students. You can’t stop us from getting an education, Mr. Huppenthal, so go to Florence and don the garb of warden where you really belong.

Junot Diaz‘s book “Drown” was part of the banned curriculum of Mexican American Studies. Diaz won the Pulitzer prize for “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.“

This is covert white supremacy in the guise of educational standard-keeping–nothing more, nothing less. Given the sharp increase of anti-Latino rhetoric, policies, and crimes in Arizona and the rest of the country, one should not be surprised by this madness and yet one is. The removal of those books before those students’ very eyes makes it brutally clear how vulnerable communities of color and our children are to this latest eruption of cruel, divisive, irrational, fearful, and yes racist politics. Truly infuriating. And more reason to continue to fight for a just society.

Rodolfo Acuña is a professor at Cal State Northridge. His “Occupied America: A History of Chicanos,” was one of seven books specifically singled out by the authorities in Arizona for banning.

When the great Muhammad Ali was asked how many sit-ups he did, he responded, “I don’t count my sit-ups. I only start counting when it starts hurting. That is when I start counting, because then it really counts. That’s what makes you a champion.”

These words resonate in Tucson, where Latina/o students are fighting for an education by sitting-in in the office of Tucson Unified School District Superintendent of Schools John Pedicone, walking out of classes, demonstrating, and taking to the streets.

Students are dispelling the myth that Mexican Americans do not care about education; they have started counting because it hurts. They know the difference between having subject matter that is relevant and having those books warehoused, between having teachers who believe in what they are teaching and sitting through classes where teachers go through the motions.

At my own campus at California State University Northridge students are mobilizing. Up until now, a small minority protested the rising cost of tuition, which now tops $5,550 a year and is promising to climb another 30 percent next year.

Because of the lack of accessibility to education, they are growing disillusioned with our system of government. They don’t believe the promises of President Barack Obama in his State of the Union. Desperate, many students are dropping out of school

California State University Chancellor Charles Reed recently issued a threat to all state campuses that any institution that exceeded its target enrollment by more than 3 percent would be docked $7 million. The Cal State Northridge administration panicked and froze classes, not allowing needy students to enroll in classes, even when professors agreed to take them as an overload.

The result has been pandemonium. Many students are unable to get the requisite 12 units for financial and other scholarship aid. This action takes money out of needy students’ pockets; the tuition for 12 units and 19 units is the same. Graduation will be deferred by a couple of years. For administrators earning $120,000 – $350,000 annually it is no big deal. But for poor and middle-class students it is a big deal.

The freeze has forced many students to start counting. It has dawned on them that they are being shut out of what the Tucson students are fighting for, a college education. Conservatives have always maintained that everyone has an equal opportunity; tragically many poor people believed that myth.

However, this fairy tale is being debunked by what is happening in California’s community colleges, where students used to be able to attend college almost tuition free and could live close to home and work. But this is no longer the case.

Although the fees are still affordable at the two-year colleges, the campuses have been flooded consequent to the pushdown of students who qualify for the University of California and the California State University systems but can’t afford it. Consequently, the problem for community colleges is not so much tuition but the flood of students that have drowned them.

Filled beyond capacity, their infrastructures have been inundated, and even when students are matriculated they face the impossible task of getting classes. This situation promises to worsen as the UC resorts to the vigorous recruiting of wealthy foreign and out of state students who are displacing residents.

If by this time, we are not counting, we should be because the hurt will worsen.

The challenge for students is to develop a strategy. It is not going to do us any good to say I told you so or to get angry. We have to get even. The reason the system will continue as if the crash never happened is because we did not get even. Very few people have gone to jail, and the gaggle of thieves on Wall Street and government was not stigmatized.

Talk about class warfare, society differentiates between white and blue-collar crime. Pure and simple, we are complicit and let the big ones get away.

In Tucson, the rich benefit directly from the destruction of the Mexican American Studies program. Brutalizing immigrants and Latino students is part of the grand strategy to keep Mexicans in their place.

The assassination of nine-year old Brisenia Flores in her home in 2009 sent a chill through other Mexicans. Shawna Forde, who had ties with the Minutemen and FAIR and the Federation For American Immigration Reform, led the assassins, but the truth be told, the Tucson white elite was complicit, as it is today.

Let me be clear: The purpose behind the destruction of the Mexican American Studies program is to intimidate other minorities. African, Native and other Americans were put on notice that they will suffer a similar fate if they protest too loudly. They heard about Mexican American students being forced to stand by while the banned books were boxed and carted away. Students watched in silence; they sobbed. Books had become important to them.

In the past I have spoken about Adolph Hitler’s “The Big Lie.” In that instance, the Jews and the gypsies were scapegoated. Hitler used hate to rally the German people. In a similar way, the anti-Mexican and anti-foreign hysteria helps conceal the criminality of ALEC (the American Legislative Exchange Council) that owns the Arizona state legislature and SALC (the Southern Arizona Leadership Council) that controls public and private institutions in southern Arizona. Superintendent Pedicone rose through SALC’s ranks and was its vice-president.

Republican politicians have exploited the hatred of Mexicans, using it to their economic and political advantage. The same goes for the Koch Brothers, the Tea Party, the Minutemen, and the prison and gun industries, not to mention the bankers who launder money made from selling arms to the Mexican cartels.

Politicos such as Attorney General Tom Horn and Arizona Superintendent of Public Instruction John Huppenthal have built their careers by spreading lies and bashing Mexicans. Tolerating them is like speaking respectfully of Hitler. ALEC and SALC leaders are criminals and child abusers. We should not abet their malfeasance by being respectful.

Some readers will say, “Rudy, you are going too far!” But am I going too far? Have they ever seen a 14 year old strung out on drugs, or a teenager that has a difficult time in explaining his or her thoughts? Who has created these conditions? Who is to blame?

I once told my wife when she was getting frustrated tutoring a second grader, “If Jorge does not learn to read, he will end up in jail.” She started to cry. Have you ever met a second grader who was bad?

Because of my early parochial education, I have a strong sense of right and wrong. For me, “sometimes there is no other side.” I have a mind, and as my teachers would tell me, and I need to “use it.” It is idiotic to say we are all equal in this country; it is a myth. In my vernacular, the word “exploitation” is the willful taking advantage of the poor. It is an abomination and cannot be tolerated.

The wonderful quality about students is that many have retained the sense to be outraged at injustice. Reasoned moral outrage corrects the imperfections of society and achieves justice for all. And, that is precisely why the Tucson cabal is banning books. ALEC, SALC, the Tea Party and their gaggle can’t handle the truth; it is subversive.

William Shakespeare’s The Tempest was banned. Why? It is threatening because it talks about colonialism. It is about the Earls of Southampton, investors in the Virginia Company. At court they support a Protestant-expansionist foreign policy. King James opposes it because he does not want trouble with Spain. Eventually this leads James to execute Sir Walter Raleigh.

The Tempest is told through the eyes of Caliban, a native of a colonized island. It is about his accusations against the colonial governor, Prospero.

Prospero is the colonizer; Caliban, the colonized. Prospero looks at Caliban as being genetically inferior. The story betrays Prospero’s colonial mentality; he has little respect for the natives or the environment. His demeanor resembles that of Superintendent Pedicone and leaders of the white establishment of Tucson who regard Mexicans, whether born on this side or the other side of the border, as aliens.

Rather than use history or literature to correct the imperfections of society, Huppenthal and the majority of the Tucson school board chose to censor books. The Tucson cabal believes that it can hide the truth, and thus keep Mexicans in their place. It is similar to the efforts of many former Confederate states to erase any mention of slavery as if it had never existed. According to them, African Americans were happy under slavery. It is similar to the efforts of neo-Nazis to deny the Holocaust or the Turks’ denial of the Armenian genocide.

Their view is if people don’t know about it, it did not happen. Consequently, Mexicans can continue to drop out of school, go to prison, work at minimum wage jobs, and believe in fairy tales. If they learn, they may start counting.

2007

…

I am a 14-year-old girl at a Justin Timberlake concert. I am wearing glitter nail polish and a T-shirt with the word “Juicy” pasted on it in puffy, pink letters. I am in love. When the music starts, my heart goes pitter-pat-pitter-pat, and I scream so loud that dogs in China begin to howl. People look at me strangely, but I don’t care because I am a 14-year-old girl at a Justin Timberlake concert…

I know it’s not exactly professional, but this is how I feel about interviewing Sherman Alexie. I want to giggle and invite him to my house for a sleepover.

Book critics are not supposed to admit we have personal reactions to prose. We are just literate androids that consume novels like flavorless bowls of oatmeal and then spew out dispassionate, semi-witty quips about the authors who write them. But I can’t help it — I love books, and I love the people who write the books I love. If you want to read a cold, impartial review by some priggish academic, pick up the New York Times. I’m a fan.

Alexie’s latest novel, Flight, is a short, tender satire about a young American Indian/Irish orphan named Zits who has spent the better part of his 15 years bouncing back and forth from foster homes to juvenile detention in Seattle. He has been scarred — emotionally and dermatologically — by life.

On one of his visits to juvy, Zits meets a handsome anarchist named Justice who inundates the angsty American Indian with left-wing revolutionary dogma. Justice supplies Zits with an amoral philosophy and a pair of handguns. The journey ends in a public massacre.

However, just as the brain matter begins to fly, Zits is transported by postmodern powers through time and space into the body of a white FBI agent in 1975. The rest of the novel follows poor Zits as he jumps back and forth through history witnessing (and sometimes participating in) horrible acts of violence.

In another writer’s hands, this could be a really corny book. But as always, Alexie deftly imbues his characters with equal parts cynicism and compassion to form a sophisticated, modern parable. It’s a bit like Catcher in the Rye meets Gunsmoke meets Quantum Leap.

I spoke with Alexie about his novel while he was doing laundry at his house. (His favorite red shirt was recently stained during a book tour.) He greeted me kindly with his soft reservation accent and then proceeded to shatter all of my political and social opinions one by one.

Boulder Weekly: There’s a scene in your novel where the main character goes on a public shooting spree. Did the events at Virginia Tech change the way people perceived that narrative?

Sherman Alexie: It’s interesting. I think there has been some reaction to it but not a whole bunch. I don’t think people have a way of talking about it. Nobody seems to have connected [the shootings at Virginia Tech] to the fact that we’ve been in a war that’s lasted longer than World War II. We’ve been watching our president’s amorality for years. How can people not think those amoral decisions are going to influence sociopaths like this kid?

BW: Were these all themes you were thinking about while writing this book?

SA: Yeah, I was trying to explain war and talk about it in one way or another.

BW: How do you feel about the way this book has been received so far?

SA: It’s about what I expected. It’s about 60 percent positive and 40 percent negative. I knew there would be an elitist literary reaction to the time travel factor — that I would dare to have a genre element.

BW: Some critics thought it was strange that Flight was not published as a hardback.

SA: Actually, we did that for a number of reasons. There are so many returns of hardcovers that it’s an economic model that’s broken for most writers. So I did this to try to remove some of the stigma from publishing a paperback original. I took a lower advance, and we published in paperback to send a message: This is the way [writers] are going to be more successful. It’s also the way more first-time and experimental writers will get published.

BW: But not everyone saw it that way?

SA: This is the first time I’ve gone public with the idea — with the Boulder Weekly. Part of it is that I’m responding to a review in the Rocky Mountain News by Jenny Shank. She thought Black Cat (Flight‘s publisher) hated the book, and publishing a paperback original was like a studio not allowing a movie to be reviewed before its release. It was shocking to me that someone with very little experience in publishing like Jenny Shank would even have a guess at that. The arrogance was astonishing. So I’m telling the Boulder Weekly all this so you guys can hammer on your competitor, the Rocky Mountain Fucking News.

BW: We definitely will.

SA: Good.

BW: I’ve heard that you don’t actually like to write novels.

SA: It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s just not my natural form, so it takes a lot more effort.

BW: Do you feel poetry is your natural form?

SA: Yeah, it’s still what I write the most. I’m always working on a poem.

BW: What do you feel is the state of poetry in America right now?

SA: Poetry has always been, is now, and will always be mostly ignored. But that’s only in its most literary incarnations. I hear poetry whenever I turn on the radio. Eminem is a better poet than just about everybody. He’s better than Billy Collins; he’s better than Richard Wilbur; he’s better than me. “Cleanin’ Out My Closet” is better than Sylvia Plath‘s “Daddy.” People’s elitist notions of what poetry is prevents them from seeing that it’s everywhere all the time.

BW: You surprise a lot of people with your views. Quite a while back, Boulder Weekly published a review of the movie Narnia, and you wrote a letter to the editor defending Christians. I think that surprised some of our readers.

SA: Well, I am a Christian. I’m a Catholic. The reflexive, anti-Christian thinking in that particular review was just lazy. It was as shallow as any attack by Rush Limbaugh or Bill O’Reilly. We liberals pretend to be smarter, but we’re not.

BW: Do you think America is filled with reactionary junkies?

SA: Yeah, and I’m a born-again gray-issues guy. I was fairly fundamental before 9/11, but that morning everything changed. What really got me pissed was Ward Churchill blaming the victims, saying that the people in the Trade Towers deserved their deaths. He’s just an evil bastard, and those are evil words, but what killed me was people’s rush to defend him. My defense would have been: “Yeah, he has a right to say what he wants, but he’s completely wrong, and it’s evil.” The problem for me with liberals is that we’ve abdicated our moral responsibility to the universe.

BW: Do you have any idea where we lost that?

SA: Looking back, I think it was when white liberals abdicated the Christian church. They lost their tribal identity. Their religion became less about tribe and justice and more about self-help. Facetiously speaking, I think yoga fucked us.

BW: Do you think there’s a liberal politician out there who would be a good president?

SA: The guy who won in 2000: Al Gore. I’m still pissed at the Nader-ites for that one. Talk about fundamentalism. And I’m sure Boulder voted for Nader about 90 percent. Dumbfucks. (Editor’s Note: Actually, it was 20 percent, Sherman.)

BW: Have you ever been to Boulder before?

SA: Many times.

BW: Do heads explode when you come here?

SA: Generally, yeah. But I get away with so much because I’m an Indian. Everybody feels like shit in the presence of an Indian. I get invited to speak at all sorts of stuff: Christian conferences, right-winger events, diversity business things. People just like to be beaten up by an Indian. I’ve made a lucrative living pounding on the left and right white people of America.

BW: That’s so fantastic that I don’t have any words for it.

SA: I know. And recently, I’ve been getting grief from people because I’ve become an optimist. I love my country, and people have such problems with that.

BW: You’re a patriot?

SA: Well, I have to speak autobiographically. I live in a country where a reservation Indian boy, whose parents didn’t go to college, who used an outhouse until he was 7, is now one of the most published and awarded writers in the country. That does not happen anywhere else.

“You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.” – Ray Bradbury

Ten years ago when I first pursued a teaching license in California, a professor introduced me to Jonathon Kozol’s Savage Inequalities: Children in America’s Schools. Kozol’s book painted a brutal picture of the disparities between public schools of different social classes and race. It made quite an impact on me and solidified my desire to teach.  It is one of the reasons why I choose to teach at the most diverse school in the second whitest state in the country where 45% of the students live at or below the federal poverty level.

Kozol’s book just earned a spot on the Tucson Unified School District’s Banned Reading List.  In 2010, Arizona passed legislation banning ethnic studies courses in public schools claiming the curriculum caused racial resentment and division. This shocked the H – E – double chopsticks out of me. But now the Tuscon School District has taken the law to an alarming new level removing a slew of multicultural nonfiction and fiction books from classrooms. Teachers now have to get prior approval from the school district in order to use books in their classrooms by individuals who have not even read the texts in question.

Some of the banned books include books by authors Sherman Alexie, Sandra Cisneros and Matt de la Peña, whose books often contain themes of cultural conflict and racial tension The shame is these books also have a reputation for engaging even the most resistive of readers. Among the most ridiculous texts banned include William Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Now if a Shakespearean play has the potential to cause a race riot, THAT is a play worth reading.

It appalls me to see so many inspiring books on the Tuscon School District’s Banned Reading List. And I can’t help but conjure images from Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451 or George Orwell’s 1984 through all of the media mayhem covering this new racist tide. But while situation may look bleak in Tucson right now, there is one light at the end of the tunnel. All of these authors are getting a ton of free publicity right now.

But then I found out from my skydiving friend that observers can go up in the same balloons that jumpers go up in, and for less than half the cost of a tour. (No champagne, but I can live with that) Plus something actually exciting is happening while I’m up there, and people voluntarily hurling themselves over the side of the basket is about as exciting as it gets.

Note: Skydiving friend will herein be called Sherman Alexie, not because he is Sherman Alexie and not because it is a clever anagram of some sort, but primarily because of that one night I was out on Bourbon Street with my friends and we were talking about him and were so thoroughly versed in the extensive cocktail selection by that point that we couldn’t remember his name and that’s what we came up with instead and so that’s what we’ve been calling him ever since.

But unfortunately the weather didn’t cooperate and they had to cancel the balloon. The planes could still go up, though, so I got to watch Sherman Alexie and several dozen others jump from a couple of little planes instead. The crowd wasn’t what I expected–I was actually really impressed with everyone’s kind, generous, and professional attitudes, as well the overall lack of testosterone that I assumed I’d have wade through in order to get through the door. I did get a little on my shoe, but I was able to scrape it off with a flat rock I found outside.

It takes approximately 14 minutes after take-off for the plane to reach the appropriate altitude for jumpers, which is when the spectators can start to look for jumpers exiting the plane. I learned this from the nice gentleman with the VIETNAM VETERAN hat who attached himself to me in the spectator bleachers during our wait. He had a lot of fascinating information about skydiving, most of which he forcibly imparted to me during the longest 14 minutes of my life. Did you know, for example, that there are about 36,000 skydivers in the the U.S. Parachute Association? And that roughly 9,000 of those are women? And that most of those woman are probably not lesbians? It was an extremely educational conversation.

Watching the jumps wasn’t at all like what I was expecting. I thought I’d be biting my nails and rending my garments the whole time watching actual humans in freefall. But it was really just…beautiful. Some people went out together, so I could see them forming up and breaking away like little flocks of birds. When it came time to deploy the parachutes, they all raced away from each other and exploded into bursts of color like fireworks.

Some people came down really fast because (I assume) they wanted to, and others stayed up for a long time because it’s pretty up there. And all the parachutes are different colors, so everyone floats in like a flock of the most gorgeous and ecstatic butterflies you’ve ever seen. Plus all the landings I saw were pretty impressive–no faceplants–so there wasn’t even any comic relief. It was just my little old self having the hell impressed out of me. I guess like a lot of mysterious and frightening things, it makes more sense once you see people loving it.

(Editor’s note: Sherman Alexie would like me to make clear at this point that this was all stunningly beautiful and delicately graceful in the most extremely manly masculine possible way.)

Before we left, Sherman Alexie and I also went and looked at the wind tunnel, which I’d never seen, and which I didn’t realize the inept were allowed to enter. It looks like a giant vertical plastic tube with heavy metal mesh at the bottom and extreme high winds blowing up through it. Mostly it’s used by actual semi-professionals to get better at falling, but when we were there, it was a steady succession of amateurs going in for two minutes at a time and happily getting tossed around by a staff member (specially rated for making n00bs look dopey). They all looked like they were having a great time, particularly since the staff member was the one in charge of making sure no one got a concussion.

I was very generously offered some time to be blown around inside, but I balked because a) the tunnel is completely surrounded by benches and bleachers to hold a staring, judging crowd (sorry, “observers”) and I was Not Prepared for two dozen of my closest complete strangers to watch my jowls flap around in 120 mph winds, and also b) there’s a camera that films everyone going in that you can’t turn off (I asked).

I do not like people watching me.

But in thinking it over, I realized that “appearing on camera in any form” is regrettably on the list and being filmed in a wind tunnel is, in fact, a form.

I’m beginning to hate the list.

But on the bright side, the Year of Fear seems to be catching, at least with my cat. My kitty was a feral rescue, only the rescue happened just after that 12 week window in which kittens can imprint on humans closed, so for a good long while he was living in a state of constant terror, which I still feel pretty bad about. The first three days he was in the house, he refused to go into the bathroom where the food and litter was, so he lived in the bottom shelf of my bookcase and pooped on one of my old hats.

Slowly over the years, I’ve coaxed, pushed, bribed, and cajoled him out of his comfort zone until today he’s an almost normal cat, except that he steadfastly refuses to come out for visitors, so my guests have started to doubt he actually exists.

One of the unexpected benefits of having a scaredy cat is that he’s a real stickler for rules. He has an autistic-level of appreciation for propriety. I told him once years ago not to hop up on the counters and he never did again. The time he scratched on the couch, I looked at him cross-eyed and he went and got himself declawed. When I moved to a new place, I told him he had to stay in his own backyard, and he’s spent the past four weekends rebuilding the fence for me. He’s a good cat.

Until last week. Now, I admit I’m a fairly irresponsible laissez-faire cat owner. I open the back door, let kitty out, and he comes back ten minutes later and runs immediately under the bed and camps there. I try not to let him out too often because I’m concerned that he’ll panic and get lost and possibly run afoul of death by misadventure. Usually he rewards me by living up to my expectations of being a very frightened cat.

But last week I let him out and things were different. I didn’t worry when he wasn’t back after ten minutes. After thirty minutes I started leaning over the fence and calling for him. At the hour mark I started walking around the neighborhood promising sushi-grade tuna for dinner at the top of my lungs. After another hour, when I was getting ready to turn myself into the police for animal abuse, I took one more turn around the block.

And there he was. Strutting around like the 16-pound muscled behemoth he is instead of the terrified hat-pooping kitten he thought he was. I called to him and he came over and let me pet him. Then he trotted home at his own pace, proud and tough, and hopped up on the couch to gaze out the window. I have to admit I teared up just a little. After years of struggling just to exist comfortably, finally he was secure enough and confident enough to risk breaking the rules and incurring my displeasure. I’ve never, ever been so proud of him.

So even cats are getting into the Year of Fear. As are my feet: I was out and about the other day and on a whim I stopped by a shoe store. I tend not to pay too much attention to what I put on my feet since they’ve always been about twice the size as a normal person’s feet. I routinely shop in the men’s section and, ironically, most of the pretty shoes in my size are bought by transvestites. Typically my primary goal in purchasing shoes is to be able—after also putting on a shirt—to obtain service at a Circle K.

When I was a kid, my mom tried to make me feel better about my whoppers by telling me that, just like you can tell how big a puppy will get by the size of his feet, you could tell that I was going to be supermodel tall because surely something excellent had to come out of my freakishly large clodhoppers.

Now, all moms lie to a certain degree to boost their kid’s self-image. This, however, was a lie she should have been called up before Congress to explain. If I had been bright enough at that age to do the math, I would have realized that with feet as big as mine, I should have grown up to be at least eight feet tall minimum, and ain’t no supermodels hired at that height. Unless “supermodel” is the new PC term for “circus performer.”

So I tend to play down my footwear. But here I was in this store and I found a pretty pair of red heels and some eye-catching red strappy sandals. In my size. They were also half-price.

And I thought, “Well, I could never wear those.”

And then I wondered if I meant because I didn’t like them, or because I’d have to show off my feet to wear them. I tried them on and unfortunately they were both really attractive and very very bright. Clearly a choice had to be made between continuing to hide my feet and buying some pretty shoes.

Now, I read tarot, strictly as an amateur and mostly as a meditation exercise. I stick to the most basic and popular spread, which is a Celtic Cross. The Celtic Cross is made of ten cards in ten different positions, each of which describes an aspect of your life and your current situation. The card in position number nine describes your hopes and fears.

It took me a while to understand how the one card could do both jobs, but eventually I came to realize that, humans being complex and often contrary creatures, what we fear and what we long for are so often the same thing: Love. Intimacy. Dependence or in-. Control or being controlled. Responsibility or total lack thereof. Success and failure both. Being attractive and wearing pretty shoes. Being the kind of person who does exciting and interesting things just because they’re fun and possibly being noticed for it.

So I bought the shoes and I’m going to wear them. I let my cat out now and he comes back happier. And I’m going to try out the wind tunnel and let people laugh at me if they want, and then, someday, eventually, I’m going to jump out of a plane. I probably won’t even die. I both fear and hope that I’m right about that.

I don’t teach my Superheroes seminar again till spring, but winter is just as good. My New North American Fiction is subtitled Thrilling Tales after the issue of McSweeney’s that Michael Chabon edited back in 2002.

Chabon’s editorial premise was simple: a lot of great fiction falls under the lowbrow category “genre.” That includes science fiction, horror, mystery, what folks called “pulp fiction” back in the thirties. “Pulp” because of the grade of paper the magazines were printed on, the cheapest possible, made from wood pulp.

I admit some of those stories were no better than their medium. A writer could hack out a 40,000 word novella in less than two weeks. Formula was everything. Thus “formula writing,” anything following the conventions of a genre, was no longer considered “literary.”

But no formula automatically produces bad writing. No formula automatically produces good writing either. Knowing a poem is a sonnet tells you it’s fourteen lines and (probably) rhymed. It tells you nothing about its quality. Believe me, there are a lot of horrific sonnets out there.

So why not literary pulp?

I’d say Kurt Vonnegut launched it with science fiction back in the fifties. Samuel R. Delany and Ursula K. Le Guin weren’t far behind him, casting their own literary spells on the realm of swords and sorcery. Margaret Atwood rewrote the future of speculative history with The Handmaid’s Tale. Toni Morrison’s Beloved, one of if not the most esteemed novel of the twentieth century, is about a haunted house.

But the pulp chips didn’t really start flying till Chabon’s The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay grabbed the Pulitzer in 2000. In the decade that followed, I count at least two dozen literary works firmly planted in genre soil originally deforested by pulp fiction nearly a century ago. All by authors of high literary pruning. In addition to the perennial Atwood and Chabon, add Philip Roth, Michael Cunningham, Isabel Allende, Sherman Alexie, Jane Smiley, Jonathan Lethem, Tom De Haven, Cormac McCarthy, Kazuo Ishiguro, David Mitchell, Kevin Brockmeier, and Caryl Churchill.

Last year alone, we had Colson Whitehead writing about zombies, Glen Duncan about werewolves,Tom Perrotta about the end of the world,  and Stephen King (would you believe he’s “literary” now?) earning a place on the New York Times’ ten best books of 2011 with a time-travel tale.

My biggest challenge for Thrilling Tales is not overcrowding the syllabus. I pared it down to nine:

McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales, Ed. Michael Chabon
Oryx and Crake, Margaret Atwood
Zorro, Isabel Allende
The Final Solution, Michael Chabon
Flight, Sherman Alexie
Fledgling, Octavia Butler
The Road, Cormac McCarthy
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz
Soon I Will Be Invincible, Austin Grossman

I’ll let you know what my students think.

Ed Royal – Chris Connelly – Industrial music legend (Ministry, RevCo., KMFDM) turned crooner, turned novelist. A decent effort about growing up in Glasgow in the 70s, but doesn’t come close to his amazing bio – Concrete, Bulletproof, Invisible and Fried – My Life as a Revolting Cock.

The Metamorphasis – Franz Kafka – This seemed, to me, to be about a man who woke up one morning and couldn´t face the world. Yeah, he´s a bug. I could be wrong, though, I don´t have one of those fancy lit degrees.

I am a Japanese Writer – Dany Laferriere – I wish more people read this, I want to talk about it with someone.

Call of C’thulu – H.P. Lovecraft – I think I read this about 20 years too late. Wordy and boring but kinda cool.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian – Sherman Alexie – Amazing, amazing, amazing, everyone should read this. A young american Indian boy goes to high school off the reserve and becomes the only Indian in the school besides the team mascot. YA book that made me laugh & cry.

The Best Laid Plans – Terry Fallis – hmmm, I agree with what this blogger said.

The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald – I haven’t read this since high school. I hated it then, but I think it’s hard to appreciate this before legitimately working a day in your life. So sad, so amazing.

Treasure Island – Robert Louis Stevenson – It has pirates, what’s not to like?

Thunder God’s Gold – Barry Storm – I read this for research. It’s about prospectors looking for the Lost Dutchman mine. A bit of a mess. They made it into a movie called Lust for Gold in 1949.

The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao – Junot Diaz – My favourite book, ever. I thought I’d re-read it to see if I still loved it. I did.

The White Tiger – Aravind Adiga – A book club choice. A 300 page letter from a working class person in India to a minister in China. I found it difficult to get past the ridiculous narrative structure.

Through Black Spruce – Joseph Boyden – Another book club selection. Not as good as Three Day Road, the model/NY subplot was a bit absurd, but I loved the northern Canada portions.

Pitouie – Derek Winkler – one storyline in northern Canada in the 70′s, one in the South Pacific in present day, connected very cleverly. Plus it has mining scams. A fun read.

The Gurnsey Potato Peel Pie and Literary Society – A book club selection with an epistolary form. The 3/4 mark, when the protagonist goes to the island to meet all the people she’d been writing to, seemed like the perfect place to stop writing letters. They didn’t.

Outliers – Malcolm Gladwell- As a parent I found this fascinating. The theory behind what makes people exceptional. Every parent should read this.

Pym – Matt Johnson – An African-American lit prof. finds evidence the creatures in Edgar Allen Poe’s only novel may have actually been real. The prof. gathers an African-American crew and heads to the south pole to see what’s there.

Bossypants – Tina Fey – More a collection of anecdotes (albeit amusing ones) than a real book, but funny and easy to read.

Death in the Afternoon – Ernest Hemingway – I love Hemingway, he can do no wrong in my eyes. It’s interesting how this seemed to be a throwaway book meant to comment on bullfighting of the day is still being read. The pictures in the middle are awesome.

The Book of Negroes – Lawrence Hill – This has been on my ‘to read’ list for a long time and my local book club selected it after the book burning controversy. Excellent.

Algoma – Dani Couture – a poets touch put on the grief of a family after a child’s death. Lovely, sad, and well done. It captures the insulation of a small town and the overwhelming hugeness of the big city quite well.

The Tiger – John Valliant – Canada Reads selection about a killer tiger. A bit long on the background information but frightening, sad and cool. Could take the cake.

Overall 2011 was the year of the surprise. Many of the books I was most looking forward to weren’t as awesome as I hoped, and many books that I didn’t expect to like turned out to be new favorites. Not surprising, however, is that most of the books on the list are YA: 8 out of 10, in fact.

It was actually hard to whittle my list of favorites down to ten, but I struggled through on your behalf. See how much I love y’all?

10. The Peach Keeperby Sarah Addison Allen. All of Allen’s books have a heavy serving of Romance, but I felt like The Peach Keeper was just as much about women’s friendships as it was about romantic relationships. Sweet and tender and sad and funny by turns, I think it’s her best work since Garden Spells.

9. The Beastly Bride: Tales of the Animal People, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling. An anthology of short stories centered on the theme of animal brides, The Beastly Bride is one of the strongest short story collections I’ve read. Usually I only find one or two pieces in such a collection that I love. I was pleasantly surprised by how vibrant and satisfying I found almost every story in this volume. Charles Vess’s whimsical line illustrations added to the charm.

8. Heart’s Bloodby Juliet Marillier was another big surprise. High fantasy tends to bore me a lot, but something about Heart’s Blood really caught my interest. I’m not even sure I can pin down what it was that I loved so much about the novel. I guess I loved it because I’m such a sucker for stories about love and redemption, and for fairy tales themes. And Heart’s Blood is a revisitation of Beauty and the Beast, so it has all of the above.

7. Red Gloveby Holly Black. I was shocked by how much I loved White Cat last year, and Red Glove was just as good, if not better. The second in Black’s Curse Worker’s series, Red Glove avoided the usual pitfalls of second book in a trilogy. Far from feeling like filler between set up and resolution, Red Glove upped the stakes and covered a lot of new territory. I can’t wait for the final book in the trilogy, coming out later this year. I think Holly Black’s work just keeps getting more amazing.

6. The Trickstersby Margaret Mahy. I’ve already rhapsodized about this one over on Greenwoman: I’ll let those of you who haven’t read my review check it out there, lest I annoy everyone by repeating myself.

5. The Monstrumologistand The Curse of the Wendigo(I get to lump them together because they are part of a series. It’s totally fair! Shut up!) by Rick Yancey. Yancey must be some kind of crazy genius, because his writing makes me love a series of books that does all the wrong things and leaves me panting for more. The Monstrumologist and its sequels are overwhelmingly male (usually guaranteed to bore me half to death), and are fucking gross (usually guaranteed to make me shut the book and decide the author should stop writing and start intensive therapy). They are also full of melancholy. I’m pretty sure Pellinore Warthrop is bipolar.  Will Henry is an adolescent orphan living with the man who is responsible for the untimely deaths of his parents. But between the gorgeous prose and the portrayal of the protagonist’s tangled feelings of tenderness and resentment, Yancey keeps me coming back for more. Yes they are creepy and gruesome. I recommend them anyway.

4. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian Collector’s Editionby Sherman Alexie made me cry. Several times. Oddly enough, I didn’t cry at the sad parts. I cried at the tender parts, the happy(ish) parts. I cried every time the protagonist encountered an unexpected moment of humanity. There’s so much loss in Alexie’s semi-autobiographical novel, but I didn’t come away from the story saturated with sorrow–I came away full of hope and compassion. And the voice! Oh the voice. I love the voice in this story. Completely priceless. This one isn’t new, so you might even be able to find a used copy somewhere. If you haven’t read it, go read it now! It’s excellent.

3. Daughter of Smoke and Boneby Laini Taylor. Laini Taylor is kind of my (s)hero. Of course I’m biased toward her because she’s a Portlander, and all the best things and people are from my adopted home state. Also she has pink hair. BUT, neither of those things are why her books are awesome. Her books are awesome because her writing is fantastic. I adored the atmosphere and beautiful prose of Daughter. I made Oh My God noises at the surprising ending. I can’t wait for the rest of the story. According to Taylor’s blog, it’s scheduled to come out this fall! No title announced yet that I know of, but I already can’t wait.

2. Anna Dressed in Bloodby Kendare Blake. I hoped I would love this book because the cover is freaking fantastic. Thankfully I DID! I loved it A LOT. And it was creepy. Another surprise–the older I get, the more I like creepy scary things. But there’s a line I can’t cross, and Anna Dressed in Blood walked that line very close to the edge. Awesomely creepy, great storytelling, I totally adored it. There’s more of the story to come in August! Can’t wait. And the cover! I want to frame the cover and hang it in my room.

1. The Space Betweenby Brenna Yovanoff. You all know how I loved this book. I talked about it at great length already. If you only read one book off my list, read this one. SO beautiful! Read it right away, and remember that I totally accept thank you presents.

Do you have a top ten list? Tell me about it, or post a link!

10 Favorite Books of 2011

The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

This was the first book I read in 2011, and even then I knew it would be one of the best books I read all year. It’s 19th-century science, monsters, and horror done in the best possible way, written in Victorian-like prose that still manages to be readable.

The Habitation of the Blessed by Catherynne M. Valente

I’d read some of Valente’s books before, but this is the one that made me fall in love with her writing and her imagination. It’s a beautifully written book filled with all sorts of peoples, places, and creatures – each with their own stories. This is a book you make yourself read slowly, just to savor it.

The Inheritance Trilogy by N. K. Jemisin

I’m cheating and listing an entire trilogy as one entry because it’s one of the smartest trilogies out there and it covers so much ground. Each book contributes to a larger story arc while simultaneously telling a self-contained story. Yeine, Oree, and Sieh are each great protagonists, and I love the way gods work in this world and how they and human societies are inextricably bound such that they contribute to each other’s changes.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente

And of course there are two books by Valente on this list because she’s awesome. This is the book I got signed by her when I went to her reading and it is one of the best children’s books ever. Seriously. It’s going to be the kind of book that will make kids lifelong readers and fall in love with fantasy. And there’s a wyverary!

Chime by Franny Billingsley

Again, beautiful language that’s a joy to read. But also there’s an intelligent and clever protagonist, a YA romantic relationship Done Right, creepy swamp magic, and the meta nature of this book with regards to stories, how they’re told, who tells them, and how they’re edited and manipulated.

Among Others by Jo Walton

I didn’t grow up in the sixties or seventies, nor have I read even a fourth of the SF books Mori reads over the course of this book, but it was as if this book was speaking to my soul. Others have called it a “love letter” to science fiction and to reading in general, and that’s probably the most accurate description there is.

Feed by Mira Grant

I don’t normally care for zombies in my fiction, but this zombie book was addicting. However, the zombies were not what made this book awesome. It was the world that people have constructed in order to survive them and the badass that is George Mason. Zombies and bloggers. And conspiracies. It’s a winning combination.

Mastiff by Tamora Pierce

It’s Tamora Pierce. It’s the final book in the Beka Cooper trilogy. It’s Tamora Pierce. Saying anything else is pointless.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

This particular entry is definitely the odd-one-out, not only because it’s not a SF or YA book, but because this is one I read for a class instead of on my own. My reaction to most Classics I’ve read is one of disinterest and boredom, so I was ecstatic when it turned out I *loved* reading this book. Jane Eyre is one of the best characters I’ve read all year. I see why the book’s a Classic – it’s as relevant now as it was back then, and just as well-written.

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

This list has turned out surprisingly symmetrical – I began with the first book of the year and am ending it with the last. It’s such a painful book, especially because right up until the end there is so much hope. Taking place in an alien world in which every one can hear everything inside each man’s head, Todd, his dog Manchee, and newcomer Viola go on a journey to escape and warn others of the threat of Prentisstown. It’s written bluntly, but it’s spot-on capturing Todd’s thoughts and emotions. The characters’ relationships with each other make me want to cry. I’ll write a full post about this book eventually.

Honorable Mentions

• Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi
• Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor
• God’s War by Kameron Hurley
• Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente
• Plague by Michael Grant
• Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor
• A Wish After Midnight by Zetta Elliott
• Of Blood and Honey by Stina Leicht
• In the Garden of Iden by Kage Baker
• Sky Coyote by Kage Baker
• The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

Overall, I’m pretty pleased with how this year went, reading-wise. I didn’t read as many books as last year, but I still read a respectable number. Not to mention that I enjoyed the majority of the books I read and was only disappointed in a few of them. Probably my proudest reading accomplishment is re-reading almost the entirety of GRRM’s A Song of Ice and Fire over the summer in preparation for A Dance of Dragons (I re-read A Game of Thrones last December in preparation for the TV show).

For the next year, my plan is to pay more attention to the types of books I want to read at a given time. Too often, I check out books that I’ve been meaning to read because I’ve been hearing so much about them, but I’m never in the mood to read them, or I make myself read them simply because there’s been so much coverage about them online. So instead, I’m going to read what I *want* to read and not what I think I should read. This means I am not going to feel guilty that right now all I want to read are SF YA books and I’m going to ignore the voice in my head that says I should be reading more adult books. Because YA is excellent.

And hopefully I can keep up this blogging thing for another year, get better at it, and enjoy myself in the process. Any and all who’ve read/are reading this blog – have a wonderful new year.

The Maryland Humanities Council made it this year’s One Maryland, One Book selection.  Here, he talks with Tom Hall about the book, and about changing world views of American Indians.

by Sherman Alexie

Category:  Multicultural

Author:  Sherman Alexie

Publisher/Year:  Little Brown Books for Young Readers/2009 

Genre:  Realistic fiction

Award:   National Book Award – Young People’s Literature (2007), School Library Journal’s Best Books of 2007, California Young Reader Medal (2010)

Pages:   288

Summary:   Arnold Spirit (Junior) grew up on the Spokane Reservation, as he calls it the ‘Rez’.  He was born with water on his brain, thus was bullied everyday of his young life.  He has one best friend, Rowdy, who sticks up for him.  He finds himself in many fights and battles issues such as; gambling, alcohol and poverty.  Junior’s family, as well as the other families on the rez is extremely poor.  The school is also lacking resources, but Junior is smart.  He decides to transfer to the public high school off the rez in Reardon.  All of the students are white; in fact the only Indian is the mascot of the school.  Junior has a hard time ‘fitting in’ as he is the only Indian at Reardon and ‘the Indian that left the rez.’  Rowdy even refuses to speak to or see him.  He is treated as a traitor on the rez.

Junior tries out for the basketball team at Reardon and makes it.  He becomes a standout basketball player and has to face his former high school on the rez with his team from Reardon.   Junior uses his humor and sketches to get through all of the tough times in his life.  He has a strong desire to break the cycle of poverty that he sees on the rez and lead a better life for himself.

Comments:   I truly enjoyed this book and could see how a thirteen year-old boy could identify with the main character, Junior.  The book has crude humor, swearing and violence, but not unnecessarily so.  It was just enough to make it funny and interesting.  I feel that reluctant readers would really enjoy reading this book, as it is a fast read, but very interesting with a powerful message of hope.  Sherman Alexie offers an alternative viewpoint and an insight into life on a ‘rez’.

Classroom Application:  I don’t think that I would use this book to ‘teach’ but to have as a choice book and would not hesitate to recommend it to reluctant readers.  It would be important to make sure that a student’s level of maturity is appropriate.   Students that choose to read this book, could have great discussion about stereotypes and whether or not they could do what Junior did – leave their comfort zone in pursuit of their dream.

The following video is a Book Trailer that I found on YouTube.  It was very well done!

Well known authors like Sherman Alexie and Chris Crutcher defended novels that deal with “taboo” topics, saying that they are “life-savers for many teens” with personal experiences with situations like drug abuse, rape, family violence and good for providing insights for kids into the lives of those in different situations.

Such articles are intended to remove offending books and keep young people in schools from reading them. While everyone is entitled to his/her own views, sometimes such a challenge approaches censorship. Parents can help their kids select books, but shouldn’t impose their views on others.

The Journal’s website poll shows that 90.9% believe that such books are more helpful than harmful. So, we hope that Harry Potter won’t be removed from school bookshelves.

Reported By Dr. Marciene Mattleman, KYW Newsradio

Without further ado…

Another Proclamation

This poem points out that around the same time that Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation proclamation, he also signed the death warrants of Native Americans, resulting in the largest public execution in US history.  We tend to idolize presidents, particularly ones as iconic as Lincoln, without realizing that they were guilty of their fair share of human rights abuses.

Invisible Dog on a Leash

This is a story of a child’s disillusionment as he grows up, and about the loss of the sense of magic in the world.

The Ballad of Paul Nonetheless

This was one of the longer short stories in the collection.  It deals with a man who attempts to seduce a woman he meets in an airport.  The man’s mental deterioration parallels the deterioration that had happened within his own family life.

On Airplanes

In a poetical form, the narrator muses about people who ask to switch seats with him.

Big Bang Theory

…which of course has absolutely nothing to do with the new TV series that I have yet to watch, but have been told that I’ll love.  The story-poem recalls memories of childhood awkwardness and fears.

Ode for Pay Phones

A teenage narrator has a crush on a girl who sleeps around.  He has a habit of calling her house and talking with her at night, and is always thankful on the nights she is present to pick up the phone.  It’s a wee bit stalkerish, in my own humble opinion, but at the same time is meant to be endearing.

Fearful Symetry

This was one of my favorites in the collection.  I really liked the anecdote at the beginning of the story, where the narrator describes the intimacy of holding hands with a girl at a movie.  The narrator then goes on to become a writer, but is paralyzed by writer’s block.

Ode to Mix Tapes

Ah, the early 90s…

Roman Catholic Haiku

Not an actual haiku, but a poem that brings to mind memories of Catholic school.  I like the way he pointed out the way that the nuns were the educated scholarly type who didn’t take offense to students yelling “Get thee to a nunnery!” at each other.  Most of the nuns that I’ve known in my life have been amazingly cool and fun people.

Looking Glass

Examines the more human side of Chief Joseph.

Salt

This one is sad.  A young intern is tasked with writing obituaries, learning life lessons along the way.  Even though it’s sad, it also calls to mind that moment at any internship or job where a newbie thinks “Oh God, what did I get myself into?!”

Food Chain

Concluding the collection is a poem about a person’s last wish upon dying.  It made me wish that the book ended on a happier note, but at the same time, it was fitting.

Concluding Thoughts

Overall, I enjoyed “War Dances.”  When I bought it, I didn’t know anything about it other than the fact that it was Sherman Alexie’s newest.  I like the variety in a collection of short stories and poems..  I’d recommend this to anyone interested in contemporary Native American literature.

Written by Sherman Alexie

Art by Ellen Forney

Listen to the booktalk.

Junior has grown up on an Indian reservation his whole life.  His philosophy about living on the reservation is that Indians are two things: poor and drunk most of the time.  He reflects on his parents and how they never reached their full potential or lived out their dreams.  When Junior enters high school, he sees his mother’s maiden name written inside his geometry book.  This is an awakening moment for Junior because he realizes that he doesn’t want to end up like his parents and just settle with life on the rez.  After talking to the Geometry teacher, Junior is encouraged to transfer to Reardan, an all “white” school, which is twenty-two miles away.  At the new school, Junior falls in love, makes new friends, and creates enemies, while dealing with family issues and exploring his identity.  The biggest test of all is learning how to balance a life he aspires without leaving all of himself behind.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian is a must read for young adults and adults too!  From cover to cover, this book will have you laughing constantly.  The honest and vulnerable personality of Junior makes his character likeable and identifiable.  The reader will be rooting for Junior the whole way! There are pictures, which are supposed to be drawn by Junior, spread throughout the book.  The pictures are completely entertaining and reveal a lot about Junior’s inner-most feelings. This book is multi-dimensional because it takes topics that are serious and emotional, but discusses them in a witty and light-hearted way.  If you are interested in books that are blunt, clever, and comical, then you will love this story!

YouTube book trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3GMtnWaWhA&feature=related

Sherman Alexie talks about his life:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Io9vRHYMiFM

Best books I’ve read in 2011, which were not necessarily published in 2011. Ahem.

Young Adult Contemporary:

Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta. This book won all kinds of awards in 2008. It’s the story of orphaned Taylor Markham, who lives year round at a boarding school in Australia and is haunted by dreams of a past that eludes her. Marchetta weaves together the story of two groups of friends, separated by a generation and a horrible tragedy, and creates a love story like nothing I’ve read before. Kind of a challenge to sink your teeth into at first, but the payoff is HUGE.

Young Adult Fantasy:

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor. This book is hot off the presses, just published a few months ago. Set in historic Prague, Karou, a blue-haired artist raised by Chimaera (monsters), has the unfortunate calling of “tooth collector” for her father figure, Brimstone. She’s never told why he needs the teeth. No one tells Karou where her unusual tattoos originated from, where the forbidden door in Brimstone’s store leads, or why an angel wants to kill her. She’s about to find out. Daughter of Smoke and Bone is one heck of a page turner and love story. It’s hard to find an original concept in paranormal YA, but Laini Taylor succeeds with this very unique novel.

Middle Grade:

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. The first novel to win both the Newbery and Carnegie awards, among numerous others. Nobody Owens, Bod to his friends, is a completely normal boy who happens to grow up in a graveyard. This is a delightful, imaginative, and sometimes scary novel for grades five and up. If you dig Harry Potter, you’ll love the world Gaiman builds.

Childrens:

The Ivy & Bean Books by Annie Barrows. Two spicy little girls who are opposites in temperament but partners in fun find themselves in all sorts of pickles — most of them self-imposed. There are eight books in this hilarious series. My daughter (seven) LOVES them and so do I.

Literary Fiction:

Reservation Blues by Sherman Alexie. I became a fan of Sherman Alexie after reading The Absolutely True Diary of a Part time Indian, his smash-hit YA novel from 2007. Winner of the American Book Award, Reservation Blues is the story of Thomas Builds-the-Fire, a Spokane Indian whose life is upended when legendary blues player Robert Johnson gives him a magical guitar. Alexie’s writing is quirky, hysterical, poetic and mystical. One of my all-time favorite writers.

Memoir:

Lit by Mary Karr. Karr’s memoir of her hardscrabble Texas childhood, The Liar’s Club, dominated bestseller lists in 1995. Cherry chronicled Karr’s adolescence, and Lit, published in 2009, is her “journey from blackbelt sinner and lifelong agnostic to unlikely Catholic.” It reads like your sassy best friend talks when she’s at her feisty, candid best. Chock full of humor, poetry, and blinding honesty.

I’m always on the hunt for the next great read. What are some of the best books you’ve read this year?

Titel: Den absolut sanna historien om mitt liv som halvtidsindian (eng. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian)
Författare: Sherman Alexie
Sidantal: 238
Utgivningsår: 2008 (original 2007)

Handling:
Den unga indianen Junior är en överlevare. Sedan födseln har han kämpat mot hjärnskador, infektioner, fattigdom och mobbning från de andra indianerna. Junior är småväxt men smart och så himla trött på det hopplösa livet i reservatet att han bestämmer sig för att göra något drastiskt, han ska gå i en vit skola. Föräldrarna stödjer honom men de är även de enda i reservatet som gör det. Alla andra indianer ser Junior som en förrädare och även hans enda och bästa vän Rowdy bryter kontakten med honom. Hälften röd och hälften vit kämpar Junior med att inte ge upp hoppet om framtiden.

 
Omdöme:
Minns ni den där listan över 100 moderna ungdomstitlar som jag postade för ett par månader sen? Den här boken plockade jag upp bara för att den är med på listan.

Jag förväntade mig inte särskilt mycket av boken, indianhistorier är inte riktigt min grej och dessutom är omslaget rätt fult. Men ojoj, vilken överraskning jag fick.

Junior är en hjälte, han har fått utstå så mycket hemskheter i sitt liv men ändå vägrar han att ge upp. Hans liv är tragisk men hans berättarröst är så lättsam och humoristisk så man inte kan låta bli att skratta. Mer än en gång kom jag att tänka tanken: ”Oj, jag borde inte skratta, det här är ju hemskt, men det är så himla roligt”.

Jag vet att en del personer tycker att boken är sorglig men jag kan hålla med om att i sista scenen blev jag lite tårögd. Men förövrigt tycker jag att boken är ljus och rolig. Det är hemska saker som händer men allting filteras genom Juniors röst och jag uppfattar inte dem som särskilt allvarliga.

Junior älskar att rita så boken är full av tecknade bilder. De höjer stämningen och jag gillar dem verkligen. En bild säger mer än tusen ord

Jag vet inte hur mycket sanning det finns i boken men nu ser jag på indianer med ett nytt ljus. Är det verkligen så hemskt i reservaten och stämmer det att de flesta blir alkoholister? Bakom den ljusa framsidan märks det att boken har ett tydligt budskap om hur illa indianerna har det.

Det här är en bok som får dig att heja på och önska huvudrollen all framgång i världen. Jag gillar den väldigt mycket. Rekommenderas till såväl vuxen som ung.

Karaktärer: +0,5
Berättarröst: +1
Budskap: +0,5
Handling: +0,5
Illustrationer: +0,5

Betyg: 8/10

The Limited

This poem serves as an introduction to the collection.  It uses the story of a bystander watching a man hit a dog to describe the limitations and power of the poet in society.

Breaking and Entering

The narrator’s home is burglarized, and he confronts the burglar with a bat and kills him.  He then struggles with the results of his action as he watches the media present the case as the violence of a white man against a black youth.  However, the narrator is actually a member of the Spokane tribe and has faced much discrimination of his own life.  This story confronts problems such as inner city crime, racism, and regret in a poignant manner in which one feels that there really is no right answer.

Go, Ghost, Go

This poem describes a Native American student who is taking a university course where the professor has idealized Native Americans to the extreme.

Bird-Watching at Night

This one made me smile.  It is a poem about a young man on a date with his girlfriend who decides to play chicken with an owl while driving.

After Building the Lego Star Wars Ultimate Death Star

This poem explores the idea of children playing war.

War Dances

This is a somewhat longer short story about a man who begins to go deaf in one ear.  His experiences with doctors remind him of a time that his alcoholic father was hospitalized years before.  Normally stories about illness tend to be depressing, but this one is told with a sense of humor, especially in the flashback about the narrator’s father.  I thought that this was extremely well-done, as normally the father would be a statistic–an alcoholic who drank himself to death.  This humorous tribute shows another side of the same story, and reveals the father’s humanity.

The Theology of Reptiles

Two boys find a dead snake in the wood.  This story was spot on on the description of kids playing.  It also made me smile.

Catechism

This was another personal favorite.  Told in a question-answer format, it explores religion in a Native American family, and the way that many people have stereotypical views of what Native Americans should believe.  It’s irreverent tone is used to make a point on the importance of family.

Ode to Small-Town Sweethearts

A teenager braves driving in a dangerous snowstorm to see a girl.  This story reminded me of growing up in Western Pennsylvania, where white-out blizzards were just a part of winter, but never to be taken lightly.

The Senator’s Son

This was one of the more painful stories in the collection to read, but also incredibly touching.  The narrator is the privileged son of a Republican senator.  He respects his father for his morality.  One day in college, the narrator is involved in an act of violence against a homosexual couple, coming to the realization that one of the men being attacked, Jeremy, was his childhood best friend.  Jeremy recognizes the narrator, but doesn’t report him because he doesn’t want to destroy his father’s political career.  However, Jeremy asks to meet with his former friend, and confronts him with a powerful lesson in forgiveness.  I found myself despising the narrator for what he did, while at the same time recognizing how very lost and confused he is when trying to face the world.  Meanwhile, Jeremy is portrayed almost as a Christ figure, remaining silent because of his own beliefs and ideals.  I think that the primary lesson in this story lies in the power of forgiveness and the need for understanding.

Concluding Thoughts

I’m loving this collection far more than I thought I would.  When I picked up the book, I did so because it was Sherman Alexie’s newest, and I had hoped to include it in a project for my multiculturalism class.  I haven’t read anything quite like it before.  Alexie manages to take very difficult issues and approach them without being depressing, and uses humor to create a greater sense of respect than I think would have been possible if he had written in a more traditional tone.  Stay tuned for Part II!