In English 102, we read Sharon Olds’ haunting tribute to Marilyn Monroe’s mysterious death. It’s a poem that focuses upon the immediate aftermath of the famous starlet’s suicide. What if you were called upon to take the body away? What would happen to the image you have of her in your head? In English 008, students researched Marilyn’s life, and they compared her tragedies with those of Rhianna and Linsey Lohan. They defined and examined the term “sex symbol.” 50 years after her death, they explain why we still look to Marilyn with love and admiration.
We love Frida Kahlo’s paintings, but we are awed by the story behind them. As a young teen, Frida was involved in a terrible accident when the bus she was on collided with a tram. Several people were killed right on the spot. A piece of railing drove right through Frida’s spine and punctured her uterus. Doctors didn’t know if she would ever walk again. Frida was confined to bed for three months, but that’s where Frida’s artistic vision grew. Her father built her an easel and fixed it to the bed. Frida learned how to paint lying on her back. Her art reflects empty, cold and lonely rooms; her lonliness and despair. Look here for cause and effect writing – students explore how her pain affected her art. How her art affected her love.
At the end of each semester, students combine their love for music with their appreciation for literature. From their personal music vaults they create a soundtrack for their reading. In English 110 we read The Tortilla Curtain, a story of desperate Mexican immigrants pursuing the American Dream. Many students like to write with a Nortena beat, and they draw upon the lyrics of Los Tigres del Norte. More often than not, they choose” La Puerta Negra,” a song about impossible love. They break down the words and analyze the theme. Everyone agrees. This sad song fits the novel like a glove.
David Bowie? He sings China Girl. Playwright Henry Hwang references the lyrics to this song in his introduction to M. Butterfly. Edgar Allan Poe uses clown imagery in his Cask of Amontillado, but there is little to laugh at in this story . Patti Smith? She wrote just maybe one of the most beautiful memoirs I have ever read.
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I wish this wasn’t the case, but I found it nearly impossible to write about T.J. English’s historic account of Havana in the 1950s without mentioning Godfather 2.I mean T.J. certainly does. I’m talking about Mafiso Meyer Lansky’s birthday party atop the Hotel Nacional, the most prestigious hotel in all Havana. This actually happened, circa 1946. Meyer was a Jewish-American gangster who had come to Havana with the belief he could align the Mafia with corrupt Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista. In the 1930s – the time of Prohibition in the U.S. – Meyer saw economic opportunity in Cuba. He forged a dummy corporation he called Cuba National, which included his personal ownership of the Hotel Nacional. Meyer considered himself, first and foremost, a businessman. He saw the potential of Havana to be a world-wide vacation destination. He recognized the chaos and corruption of Cuba’s political structure. In his mind, the island was RIPE for the taking. He was RIGHT. For years, he had been smuggling suitcases of cash into the country to gain access and influence with El Presidente. Now he was making unheard of amounts of money for himself and the Mafia. It was a PIECE of CAKE. The author of Havana Nocturne describes Meyer’s birthday event in a chapter called “The Mob’s Playground.”
OK, Godfather 2 is a work of fiction created in the minds of screenwriter Mario Puzo and filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola. In the movie Meyer Lansky’s name has been changed to Hyman Roth, but their stories remain eerily similar. Hyman hosts his own party atop his own hotel. He couldn’t have been in a happier place. He had invested nearly twenty years of his life to the idea of going (semi-)legitimate. His hotels and casinos were already profiting hand over fist in Cuba. Now, he felt he had created a true partnership with the corrupt dictator of the Cuban Republic. He saw his investment that was not only making him personally RICH but also creating a thriving tourist industry in the country.
The birthday party celebration in the movie shows Hyman sharing his success with some of the most powerful Mafiosos in the U.S., including the Godfather, himself, Michael Corleone. There is a powerful visual here. Hyman has ordered a cake decorated with the shape of Cuba in the frosting. Filmmaker Francis Ford Copola designs a scene where Hyman “cuts up” the island and makes sure everyone gets a “piece.” Hyman is so proud of himself. He puts his hand on Michaels shoulder like any proud Jewish uncle would. He’s beaming. He explains that this is just the start of an unlimited new age. “Michael,” he says to the Godfather (Al Pacino), “We’re bigger than U.S. Steel.”
In 1940s Cuba, Meyer was not the only one to rise POWER in POLITICAL UNREST. While Meyer was married on the island in 1948, a young twenty-two-year old law student made a name for himself with his political leadership in the Cuban People’s Party, or Orthodoxo. On his University of Havana campus, this man was a fearless leader and a powerful orator. His name was Fidel Castro. This was a time of a weak Cuban president. Corrupt Fulgencio Batista was temporarily living in exile. In his place, Carlos Prio, found he had little control of violent military groups and political parties that competed for power. Newspaper editors, political activists, and other political operatives walked the island armed to the teeth. Fidel, who was hated by right-wing extremists, never left his home without a fifteen-shot Browning pistol strapped to his belt. This era in Cuba was termed El Gangsterismo. This is how we approach the scene in Godfather 2. In 1952, Batista returned to the presidency. He relied on his former military contacts to help stage a coup of the Cuban governement. Almost immediately he was taking in suitcases of cash from Mafia gangstahs like Santos Traficante, Charlie “Lucky” Luciano, and Meyer Lansky. It was good for everyone involved. The mob created a thriving tourist industry for Cuba with their casinos, hotels and racetracks. It was like they were printing money. Of course, Batista was happy to take his cut. Godfather 2 accurately reflects this Golden Age for Meyer and his cronies. They were confident. They felt they owned a piece of the island. The sky was the limit. That is until Fidel rolled into town.
Author TJ. English details Fidel's a SECOND EXILE in his book. First there was Batista's temporary exile to the U.S. He was ousted by his own government for corruption and other scandal. For nearly ten years, he lived in a suite at the Waldorf Astoria, just a few floors down from Lansky and Luciano. This would compare to living in Trump Tower today. Everywhere he turned, he found himself rubbing elbows with more gangstahs. In 1952, Batista took back his presidency by force with the support of his military alliances. Nothing could have made Meyer and his mafiosos happier. They had their strongman dictatior in the driver seat of the Cuba government. Ove the years they had handed over so many suitcases of cash to Bautista that they must have thought he was BOUGHT and PAID FOR. The first thing Bautista did when he took power is vow to stamp out any semblance of political unrest. "No problema," he must have told his Mafia friends. He would protect their casinos, hotels, and other business ventures. Anyone who looked like a rebel would be plucked of the street and disappeared. This movement caused Fidel to flee to the backwoods of the Sierra Maestra, where he would recruit and create a small band of anti-Batista fighters.
Havana Nocturne is dictated by Fidel's quest to take the island back from corrupt politicians and ruthless gangstahs, or vice-versa. T.J. English chases the ghost of poet and journalist José Martí. Fidel idolized the man and his principles. Several chapters and passages in the book begin with Fidel's arrrest, torture, or imminent execution, but they all end with his relentless chant of "Revolution!...Revolution!...Revolution!..." The scene in Godfather 2 where Fidelistas take the streets of Havana and run the mobsters out of town is not only a turning point in the movie but also a turning point in the history of Cuba.
SO CLOSE AND YET SO FAR: Up to the point of his (real-life) 44th birthday party, Meyer had worked on his own “Cuban Dream,” for decades now. He had positioned himself to create a brand new hotel that would make Havana world famous. He planned to call it the Monte Carlo. The new enterprise would become such a money-maker that it would finance Mafia activity around the world. El Presidente was in his pocket! It was a done deal. He didn’t consider that the Cuban people would choose a new leader. They would become Fidelistas. They had other plans for their own country.
Of course, without the Cuban people, there would be no Cuban Revoloution. Author T.J. English takes ample time to describe the vibrant culture off the streets. The island vibrates with the wonders of Afro-Cuban msuical styles like the son, rumba, mambo and danzon. Music is everywhere in the book. Band-leaders like Benny Moré, Dámaso Pérez Prado, and Arsenio Rodriguez became important cultural icons. Sex Tourism was also Big Time . Shows that flaunting naked showgirls and burlesque dancers became a major attraction in mob-owned casinos and hotels. Prostitution thrived. No one from the capitol to the barrios complained about it. My favorite part of the book takes the form of a Cuban dancer’s leisurely walk along the tree-lined Paseo del Prado that divided Centro Havana with Old Havana. Her name was Bubbles Darlene and she wasn’t just a dancer, she was an exotic dancer. No one who saw her this day would forget her. She was dressed in nothing but black panties and a see-through plastic raincoat. Upon being stopped by local police, Bubbles announced that she was inspired by a Cuban song, “La Engañadora.” In English, you can translate that to “The Deceiver.” Why did she choose that song? Why did she expose herself on the streets? Supposedly, it was her way to protest her corrupt Cuban government. The violent activities of the secret police. The over-ranging influence of American mobsters. Bubbles was no deceiver. On this day she LAID IT BARE for her people. Her bold display of independence may have SYMBOLIZED the spirit of the streets. Cubans were tired of being bullied and opressed. They all waited excitedly and anxiously for the BEARDED ONE to set them free. If you saw the movie, you know what happens next: Fidel marched down the street on New Year’s Day 1959 just a few days after Meyer’s rooftop birthday party.
If someone asked me how I would classify Rachel Kushner’s novel The Flamethrowers, I just wouldn’t know what to say. It’s not the kind of book I can easily group with other books on my shelves here in Mexicali. I mean Rachel K is all over the place with this one. From the beginning of The Flamethrowers, I can tell the author wants to explore the place and atmosphere of the art world in 1970s New York City: like Avant Garde, Andy Warhol, Punk Rock. Who wouldn’t? LET’S GO! Maybe I can place Rachel K next to my Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground books. (I have plenty!) But in this novel, Rachel K also spends considerable time traversing motorcycles, love, betrayal, feminism, and Italian terrorists. The novel is disjointed. The author shifts back and forth between points of view, first- and third-person narration, arrival and departure of characters; so much so, I often lose my place. She writes like the post-modern artists her characters aspire to be. Maybe when I finish this piece, I’ll give Rachel K her own shelf.
Rachel K’s main character, Reno, is a fledgling artist from, you guessed it, Reno, Nevada, who makes the trip to New York City to jumpstart her career. There is an instant mystery to this young woman, for we don’t ever know her real name. Because Reno has just graduated from her art school, she must be like twenty-two years old; she is riding her Italian motorcycle to enter a land-speed race at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah where she plans to transform photos of her motorcycle tracks into art pieces. (Spoiler alert: She doesn’t foresee the possibility that her best art will rise up from her motorcycle wreck.) From there, it’s on to New York. From readhing Rachel K’s bio, I know she was an art student in real life, and she liked to ride motorcycles. From her photo on the book jacket, she appears to be a beautiful young woman, so when I read this novel, I envision the real Rachel K smack in the middle of every chapter. But, if I told you this book was autobiographical, I would probably be WRONG. I mean Rachel K may be drawing on a few personal memories and experiences for inspiration, but I if this book was purely autobiographical, I don’t think I would like it as much. The real tension in the book comes from having to determine what could beTRUE and what is just STRANGE. Rachel abruptly changes point-of-view and writing style. Reno bounces back and forth between lovers, political movements, and countries. Reading this book for me was a drama. I never knew WHERE it was going or WHY. This style keeps me on EDGE. This makes the novel FUN!
I read somewhere favorite author Jennifer Egan once say this: “My ground rules were: every piece has to be very different… I actually tried to break that rule later: if you make a rule then you should also break it!” In reading Rachel K’s novel, I came to terms with a new concept called “simulacra.” It’s often defined as a false reality. It could be an artist’s attempt to mimic REAL LIFE. Like those painters who painstakingly paint a photograph. Or, maybe like my students who engage in online role-play video games where they discard their own identities for fantasy characters. Some of them, they tell me, play for sixteen hours at a time. They leave their real selves behind. But, isn’t that what all authors try to do. Don’t they try to transport us to a parallel universe? Yes, but the most interesting aspect of Rachel K’s writing is that her characters are all active participants in simulacra. They are all LIARS. They make up their lives as they go along. You never know who or what to trust. Neither does Reno.
Let me give you an example: Reno develops a friendly relationship with a New York City waitress named Giddle. This seems important to me, for Reno is pretty much a lone wolf. Seeing how she relates, or not, with her friends reveals a lot about her true self. Upon her arrival to New York, she spends much of her free time with Giddle, but clearly Giddle isn’t who she appears to be. She is not a waitress, she says, but she is an artist. We have all heard this type of story before, but with Giddle, it’s different. Giddle says she is not working as an aritst, she’s playing the role of one. That’s her art. But, she’s been doing it for three years now. Rachel wonders for who and why. When is Giddle going to complete her piece? Along time ago, I read Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickle and Dimed, where the author goes undercover to work as a waitress to expose exploitation and discrimination of minimum-wage women. Ehrenreich was a serious journalist who wrote down her true feelings and observations every night after work. Giddle just drinks and fucks. Though the course of their friendship, Reno realizes everything that Giddle says just may be a lie. In fact, all the time Giddle shares her crazy stories, she may be sleeping with Reno’s lover. If Giddle is sleeping with her lover, why would Reno maintain the friendship? She must believe she is like playing a fantastical role in her own life, just like Giddle is playing a waitress.
By the way, Reno’s first lover in the book is a much greater liar than Giddle. His name is Ronnie. He’s pathological. He’s the Lebron James of bullshit. He winds up stories you can't believe, but you can't turn away from either. When Reno met him in a bar, he was wearing a Mardsen Harley T-shirt, but he knew little about motorcycles. His stories about doing time in prison seemed to pull her in, but later she found out all his jail-time stories came from his brother. He just shared them in first-person. This is WEIRD in an interesting way for the reader. Reno must be attracted to people who lie. It becomes a pattern in the novel. Reno knows they are lying and the characters who lie to her know she knows it, but this the "simulacra.” Maybe the people Rachel meets are boring, but she recognizes meaning in their stories. (Spoiler Alert: Later in the novel, Rachel recognizes her own self in a fantastical Ronnie story about his world-wide travel on a small boat and possible sexual abuse. This is WEIRD and TELLING. Ronnie's trip may explain a little about his depraved behavior, but it says nothing for the fact that he hadn't yet met Reno.) At this point, I ask myself, is Reno YOUNG and IMPRESSIONABLE? Or, is she DESPERATELY LONELY
I’m not writing a book report here – the novel is just too BIG for me – but that won’t stop me from sharing my favorite part. It has to do with CHINA GIRLS. Not Girls from China. Not Chinese Girls. Not the David Bowie Song. When Reno made it New York City, she found she had the necessary atributes to become a film model. “Who know I’d be a model? But here I am modeling flesh tones…” In the 1990s film makers hired young women, often lab technicians, to pose in a few shots that would be positioned at the beginning a reel – to measure their skin tones against a range of color samples. They were called CHINA GIRLS. I imagine there is a complex process for duplicating color on film. If the colors of clothes or landscapes are slightly altered, this may be of little consequence, but any artificial change in flesh tones could become a great distraction and ruin a film. The China Girl could be used as a colour control reference. She’s hidden at the beginning of the film. She's basically invisible: An UNSEEN model. The only ones who see her ar the photographers and filmmakers. In the final print of her modelling session, Reno would see her crooked teeth, but no one cared. She was anonymous.
It's clear to me that Reno is not so much LONELY, but she is ENCHANTED by the BIG LIE. She buys into the false narratives of her so-called friends because it brings her closer to them. The China Girls look like models but they don’t do anything. Giddle is going nowhere. Each time Reno falls in love, she is betrayed. She wants something so bad, but she doesn’t know what it is. I believe Rachel K suscribes to Jennifer Egan's first rule for literature: Break All the Rules. She is not trying to entertain. Instead of giving us something we want, she strives to make us uncomfortable. What is ENCHANTMENT really? “Enchantment,” Reno says, “means to want something and also to know somewere inside yourself, not an obvious place, that your aren’t going to get it.”
Last week, I read a book called Giant Love.Giant, as in James Dean's last movie. On the bookcover, Jimmy D is seated in the backseat of a vintage car in the middle of a barren cotton field. In this movie, he plays Jett Rink, a poverty-stricken farmhand, who works for an arrogant Texas cattle baron. This rich bastard, portrayed by Rock Hudson, lives in the big house situated in the far background. Jimmy/Jett must be stretched out in the big boss’s car! It’s clear from the beginning of this movie that Jett is killing himelf to get just a little bit ahead, but in this picture he looks pretty cool. His cowboy hat is tilted forward to shield his eyes from the sun. He’s removed his gloves and holding them out in his outstreched hand. His legs are are elevated and resting on the front seat. He’s cool, because he’s confident. Although there is nothing in his life to hint that he will ever make it out of there, in this picture, he looks like he’s thinking about it. He’s a dreamer. He's a believer. I mean, he’s James Dean.
Wait, I’m leaving out something important about this bookcover. Embedded inside the letter “O” in the word “Love” in the title of this book, I see a black and white portrait of a middle-aged women’s face. That’s Edna Ferber. She’s the best-selling author of the novel Giant that the film is based upon. Edna is sporting a shallow-crowned hat adorned with huge black ribbons. A matching black veil comes down to just below her nose – just enough to shade the eyes and add a touch of mystery. At first glance, I thought the book would be about Jimmy D, but that’s not the case. For the first two hundred pages or so, it’s all about Edna: her dreams, her ambition, her courage, her devotion to her art.
I GET IT. The book is written by Edna’s grandniece, Julie Gilbert. The author looks at her aunt with the same AWE I maintain for Jimmy D. When I think of Edna and Jimmy D, I think KINDRED SPIRITS. I gradually got into this book, for I was sure it was going somewhere. In reading about Edna, I was going to learn more about Jimmy D. They are both relentless in their pursuit of the truth. They don’t back down, no matter what anyone tells them. This was going to be a Goodread. I was sure of it. I enjoyed reading about Edna’s formative years. She grew up in Appleton, Wisconsin. I know that town, for I have read biographies of Harry Houdini. Wouldn’t you know it? Edna and Harry attended the same high school at the same time. Harry’s name was Erich Weiss at the time. I don’t think they knew each other on a personal level, but as Erich turned into Harry, master showman, Edna developed into a world class writer, a Pulitzer Prize winner for her novel So Big.
Currently, I’m at a point in my semester teaching where my students are beginning to whine about the amount of work I assign. I’ve never known how to respond to excuses for not completing their work. Many, if not most, of my students come from immigrant families. English is there second language. Believe me, I understand their frustration. I myself spend a significant portion of the day leaning how to write in Spanish. But, instead of making things EASIER for them, I unfortunately tend to make things HARDER. To help them raise their game, I end up giving them MORE WORK. I want to say, “You are not ALONE.” Nothing is EAZY. Now, after reading GIANT LOVE, I just may share a story or two in the classroom about Jimmy D and Edna F. They both learned about failure at an early age. I’m going to continue my name-dropping here. Edna’s start in literature reminds me of another favorite writer, Stephen King. Like Stephen K, Edna was both a voracious reader and a relentless writer. In the 1920s, She may have been the same age as Stephen K when she attempted her first novel. Like Stephen K, she became completely submerged in her story. When she wrote, she projected herself into the setting of her stories; she lived the lives of her characters. Writing was her life.
When I read Stephen King, I see the same type of intensity. You just don’t know where the author stops and the story begins.Stephen King became so frustrated with the writing of his first novel Carrie that he eventually threw the manuscript away in a wastebasket and then went out got hammered. That’s it, he must have thought. It’s over, like “I gave it my best try, but I’m just an alcoholic loser…” Later that night, however, destiny struck when he came home on a bender to find his wife waiting for him. This time, she wasn’t going to kill him – she had found “Carrie” in the wastebasket, and spent the whole night reading it. She thought it was great and encouraged him to finish it. I’m not sure if he quit drinking that night, but he started writing again. Eventually he became one of our nation’s most celebrated literary figures.
Edna F would know how Stephen King felt. At age 24, she completed her first novel, Dawn O’Hara: The Girl Who Laughed, but far from feeling a sense of accomplishment, she felt a sense of dread. I don’t think there was any drugs or alcohol involved, but once reading her finished product for the first time, she hurled it into the trash. Unlike Stephen King, Edna was not married. In fact, she never married. Her great niece, the biographer, believes her life as a spinster may have had to do something with her total commitment to her art. At the time she threw her novel in the wastebasket, she was still living at home in Appleton Wisconsin. Luckily for her, her mother found her novel and read it. She promptly sent it off to a leading New York publisher. A few years later, they were Edna’s writing was appearing in the best literary magazines across the country. President Theodore Roosevelt became one of her biggest fans. He once said, “She is the best woman writer of her day in America.”
I’m not writing a book report here about Edna F, nor am I going to rehash the life of Jimmy D, but I did take the time to watch the film Giant as I was reading this book. Legendary Hollywood director George Stevens brought the film to the big screen in decade of the fifties. This couldn’t have been an easy task, given the racial and gender hatred embedded in Edna’s novel. In Marfa, Texas, the setting and location of the Giant film shoot, the locals must have been restless. If they had read the movel, they couldn’t have been to comfortable of the picture Edna painted of Marfa’s people, history, and traditions. I mean, who was this Edna F to tell their story. Giant may have been promoted as a beautiful love story between Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor, but the screen quickly filled up with ugly racial hatred and gender bias. The Mexicans in this movie were cruelly treated. They lived a life of hard work and terrible poverty. For the most part, they were treated with contempt by the wealthy landowners like Rock Hudson. Edna weaved this theme into the story, for this is what she saw with her own eyes in her ten years researching the novel.
This is why I want to close this post with Edna's fight with the studios to enhance Elizabeth Taylor's role in this movie. Edna know first-hand what it was like to battle the sexist interpretations and attitudes of her own industry. She must have projected herself into the Elizabeth's role as the outsider in the story of Giant. Elizabeth played Leslie, the Virginia woman who was swept off her feet and married to a rich and arrogant Texas landowner. As long as I’m here, I’m going to include Liz as another KINDRED SPIRIT of Edna and Jimmy D. I’ve never seen any fear or intimidation in the way she conducted her life or played her parts. In the story of Giant, Liz/Leslie seems to be shunned and disrepected by her male counterparts, and she’s having NONE of IT. In Giant, there is a Sunday Afternoon Scene in the Big House, where Liz’s husband holds his hand out and steers her away from the “men talk” he was discussing with his neighbors and business partners. To the other side of the room, there were women knitting quietly. I think one of them may be working on her stamp collection. The message is clear to all viewers: In Texas, women were there to look pretty and stay quiet. When Liz looked over from the men to the women, she understood she was being shut out. But WAIT! In her mind, she had done nothing wrong. She was as STRONG and INTELLEGENT as any of the men. But I think that’s Edna’s point. In this day and age, what other choice did a woman have but TAKE IT. Liz had nowhere to turn. I mean, she was married to the BIGGEST PENDEJO in the room.
As soon as the production of Giant had ended, Jimmy D just couldn’t wait to drive his new Porsche Spyder racing car up route 99 from L.A. to Salinas. His Hollywood contract stated clearly he was forbidden to drive this car during the filming of Giant, but now that the filming was over, and all he had left to do was voice-overs – that’s not considered “filming,” is it? - this mean’t he was FREE. Free to do what he wanted. He planned to register his new car and win this weekend in a professional race. He didn’t make it past Paso Robles. It was nearing 5:00 p.m., close to dusk, Jimmy D was of course driving the Spyder at wrecklessly high speed across a deserted stretch of road where Routes 46 and 41 intersect. He was forced to hit the brakes when a young driver in a station wagon coming from the opposite direction failed to see his approach. Jimmy flipped the Spyder! He suffered a broken neck in the head-on collision. He was pronounced Dead On Arrival at a hospital in nearby Paso Robles.
Two days later Elizabeth Taylor was called back to the studio to do a voiceover for a scene she had done with Jimmy D. She was devastated by the death of her close friend. She was nearly at the point of a nervous breakdown when they told her they couldn’t delay the session. She would be obligated to come into the studio and respond to a recording of Jimmy D’s voice. Elizabeth Taylor was a Big Star. Of course, the studio did everything to accommodate her in her time of grief. When the asked her if she was OK, she screeched “FUCK YOU!” and then she nailed her lines.
Way back when I was In grad school, I read a lot of Shakespeare, Medieval Romance, French Poetry, Franz Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe. Whatever I was told to read, I read, probably two or three times over, for I certainly was not among the smartest students in the room. When my professors said to pay close attention to specific characters or passages, that’s what I did, for fear of not letting them down, or more likely, not revealing the very true and shallow understanding I had for whatever we were reading. I mean, I should never have been allowed to take these classes. For a lot of this stuff we were assigned, I felt like I was reading in Chinese. My grad program went slow. It was a slog. With each semester, I just tried to keep my head above water, but while I felt like I was drowning, I was reading, like all the time. It’s because to these guys – my professors - the books and authors we read were important. That is, they worked so hard to let us know that. They could recite prose by memory. Of their favorite authors, they knew initimate details of their personal histories and relationships. Many of my professors had published books on the authors they taught. These were old guys with long hair that fell over their ears, and had stubble that covered their chins. We would read from their own books. No one argued with them about anything they said. Not because we were afraid of any consequences, but we were inspired by their passion.Every time I would raise my hand, I could see it twinkle in their eyes.
Now that I’m teaching my own English classes, I hope I can pass on just a little bit what I learned from my professors. I know, I know I will never approach the insight or knowledge they exuded in their classrooms, but the least I can do is share my love for reading with my students. I’m on pace to read 50 books this year. I say that, for I want to become a reading model. I READ EVERY DAY. In both Spanish and English. I could do it in French if I was called upon. But, nobody is going to call on me. Nobody is going to care about my reading habits. And I’m not saying that each of my lessons or activities in the classroom will turn out the way I could hope. I’m just saying, that if you ever came into my clasroom at any time, you will probably see me smiling. That’s for the slightest possibility that student will raise their hand and and ask me about our reading.
It’s been like four decades since I graduated from my masters program, and I’m still reading after all these years. Maybe not with the same INTENSITY I read for my professors, but with more FREEDOM to make my own reading choices. This year I’m on pace to reach my 50-book goal. That’s one a week. When I’m not grading student submissions or planning new lessons, I’m reading. I call it JAY’S READING MARATHON. I live in a house-full of books. Some weeks, I will reach to my shelves to read a book out of the past. When I’m reading one, I’m already searching for another to read in the upcoming week. Today is Sunday. I’m headed to the once-a-year event in Mexicali called FERIA DEl LIBRO. I’m not in danger of running out of any books, but this is what I call the READING LIFE. You got to find your books when you can - por si caso - just in case.
This week I turned to New York Review Book Originals to make my reading selection.There is nothing here in this series that is promoted as Eazy Reading, but that's probably why I try to choose a few to read each year. I want to say I'm constantly challenging myself, but my choices are probably based on my responses to the cover art of these books. I may have three to four shelves here in my Mexicali house dedicated to books with lurid cover art. When I say lurid, it doesn't mean sexually perverted -Jaja -- I'm not interested in that, really, but these aren't the kind of books you will find if you shop for your books at Walmart. Many of the covers imply the notion of sex or violence; the artistic representation of the characters are dark and omninous. Reading is a lonely activity. The covers of these books transport me to other worlds. New York Review Book Originals aren't based on market sales or profitability. Their publication is based on the love for reading. These are books to display on your shelves. This is where I found Jean-Patrick Manchette's novel about a cold-blooded killer. A Femme Fatale.
The main character's name is Aimée Joubert.Like Lou Reed says in a song of the same name, "Here she comes/ You better watch your step/ She's going to break your heart in two/ It's true..." On the cover of my copy, Aimee is wearing silky, sexy lingerie and packing a heavy black automatic pistol. I'm not sure which gets my heart beating faster. She commits her first murder on page four when she points a 16-guage shotgun at a man taking a rest during a Sunday-morning duck shoot on a quiet French countryside. He had a gun in his hands as well, and that's probably why he smiled at her when he saw her coming. Apparently, she didn't think anything was so amusing. Before, he could say anything, she lets him have it with both barrels. We don't know why she killed him, or anything about her background, but as she walks away, this guy is lying face down in the mud, and we know she is bad-ass. She is a Femme Fatale.
I know, I'm like 900 words into this piece of writing and I have yet to hint of Aimée's motivation for killing. I find it ironic, that in French the name Aimee can be loosley translated to "beloved." How could anyone with such hard edges carry such soft spots in her heart? But, Aimee does. In between killings she visits her near-deaf mother who lives alone in a small stone house in a tiny hamlet in the French countryside. Probably not too far away where Aimee had blasted the duck hunter in the first chapter. Here Aimee stops by to ensure that her mother is safe and happy. She brings her mother her favorite tobacco and conveys to her she has placed more money in her bank account. This passage reminds me of something eerily similar to something I read about Marilyn Monroe. At age four, Marilyn was separated from a mother who was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Marilyn's mother was institutionalized in a mental hospital, and Marilyn was left to live in foster homes and orphanages. Through her adulthood, Marilyn maintained a complicated and strained relationship with her mother, but she never abandoned her. Up until the day Marilyn died, she strived to provide her mother with the emotional and financial support she needed. I write this because many of Marilyn's biographers imply Marilyn inherited an emotionally scarred life from her mother, and she knew it. I'm writing this here because I know almost nothing about Aimee's childhood, but following my readings of Marilyn, I can infer a connection between the way Aimee treats her mother and her complicated nature.
I can’t really tell you what was it that drew me to this book, Fatale, or why I’m posting this. Anything I have read here or have written about Aimee is never going to make it to my classroom. I'm just thinking out loud. Not too long ago, I shared some of my reading for the death of Marilyn Monroe in an introductory composition class, and I was so surprised by the reaction of my students. To supplement the reading, I shared a video that featured the events that led to Marilyn’s death and details of the crime scene. The L.A. coroner classified Monroe's death a "probable suicide," but based on what we saw on screen, my students think otherwise. Our discussion spurred curiosity and empathy that I hadn’t really seen or heard previously in other lessons. Later, I read a Joyce Carol Oates’ fictional account of Marilyn’s life and death to the class. This week we covered another Joyce Carol Oates piece that comes with a violent ending: her classic short story, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” Again, we are all in. I’m not writing any book reports here. The female protagonists I mention in this post have haunted me to this day. I think about the connections Aimee and Marilyn had for their mothers. I would imagine my students would too. I still read about Marilyn. Here in Mexicali, I have a complete shelf devoted to her biographies. I imagine when I speak about Marilyn, you can hear both admiration and sadness in my voice.
I think that’s my point. The best reading I can share with my students is not always going to come from places you expect. If I were to share anything from Fatale in my classoom, it would come straight from the heart. That’s the minimum you should expect from your professor..
What I like most in this book is to see first-time novelist Rachel Kushner make her own rules. That’s what I’ve always heard is best thing to do in any writing workshop I’ve ever participated in – I mean, this is fiction. When it comes down to it, the job of a fiction writer is to just make things up. Cuba may be located 90 miles south from the tip of Florida, and in 1958, we all know what was happening on the island. Fidel Castro's army of rebels were in the mountains, prepared and primed for revolution against what they considered American Imperialism. They had had enough with being treated as second-class citizens in their own country. Rachel Kushner makes Fidel Castro an important character in her story; she dives behind the scenes of what we read in the history books to give us a Down and Dirty look at Fidel Castro before he became Fidel Castro. The Americans were worried. I’m talking about the American investors in the sugar industry threatened by their own labor force, and the American government threatened by communist sympathizers. It’s well-documented, but the Cuba of Rachel’s novel is her Cuba -- She can do anything she wants with it.
Fidel C. is not the only Down and Dirty character in this book – the novel begins with Fidel C’s rebels burning down the valued American United Fruit sugar cane fields on the island of Cuba. The sky turns black. Ashes fell like snow. Native workers mysteriously disappeared. There was no one to help extinguish the fire. The message of this book is clear: “YANQUIS GO HOME!!” Rachel Kushner relies on her poetic license to create a very interesting figure in the Cuban Revoltuion. The name of the character is Rachel K. Sort of like Franz Kafka’s protagonist Joseph K in the novel The Trial. To look for Rachel K, you will need to go to the Tokio Bar in Havana’s seedy sex district. Rachel K is a “zasou dancer.” I’m not sure what that is, but she has dark eyes and full lips, and for her dancing numbers, she paints her fishnets directly on her skin with liquid mascara. She appears to be a Gypsy Jew that has fled religious persecution in Europe. In Havana, she maintains sexual relationship with an ex-Waffen mercenary who now works for Fidel C. That’s just the start of it. I think she sleeps with both the exiled Cuban president Prio and the newly inagurated Cuban president Bautista. She’s like a Spy/Prostitute/Zasou Dancer that peddles information to stay alive.
The story of Telex to Cuba is narrated by two rich and priveledged American teenagers. These two happen to be the children of a rich and ambitious American United Fruit executive who is tasked with keeping the sugar cutting and the money flowing. The family lives in a closely guarded/protected community estate where the only Cubans to be seen work as servants. I know. I know that Rachel must have heard criticisms for the perspective of her narrators. I mean what are they going to know about revolutionary politics. They are both young and naive. I like red-headed Emily, for she is very observant. She reminds me of Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird. She’s like the moral compass of the novel. From the beginning, racial lines are clearly drawn. The White People are there to run things on the island. The Cubans are there for their whim and disposal. Emily is not that pretty, but she makes up for it with the respect and dignity she shows for the less-priveledged on the island. Her first love is a Hatian servant learns English by reading discarded fashion magazines. This may be a Good Move on the author’s part. This gives her the chance to integrate multiple perspctives into her narrative. Emily, who is coming-of-age, sees things one way. Her future is nothing but HOPE. Rachel K, who has been around the block, sees things entirely different. She can’t see beyond tomorrow. Together, these two touch us in different ways.
I’m with the author – Rachel Kushner - when she draws the real Ernest Hemingway into her story. It’s only fair. His presence was huge on the island in 1958. Somewhere near the halfway point in the novel, Rachel sits Ernie down at Floridita bar next to one of her principle characters, an ex-Nazi colonel refugee, What and odd couple they make. Of course Ernie is hammered. From what I read, he wakes up every morning at 6:00 and works his ass off until noon. That’s his system: to lay it down – his word total – and then leave it behind him until the next day. This is when he begins drinking. He once said, “I have spent all my life drinking, but since writing is my ture love I never get the two mixed up.”
Jaja. Rachel paints a scene where the ex-Nazi walks into the famous Floridita bar. The guy’s name is Christien de la Maziere. It sound French because it is French. Christien might be Rachel K if he was a woman. I say this, for he shows the propensity to jump sides when he needs to. Apparently when German Army steamrolled through his France, he found his way to the winning side. He talked himself from being killed to being a killer. And wouldn’t you know who he sits down next to in la Floridita? Our favorite American Author. In the Wehrmach, Christien learned how to kill, torture, and dispose of bodies. But inside the Floridita, he is ill-prepared for Hemingway’s drunken behavior. Hemingway, the macho-man he is, patronizes and lectures the Frenchman sitting next to him. I’m sure Christien was thinking three things: He didn’t have any idea who Hemingway was or what he was talking about. But, could he take out a gun and shoot him on the spot? Probably not. Christien takes over the narrative when we get tired of Emily and Rachel K. Another good move by the author.
I think I have found a new favorite author in Rachel Kushner. Right now, I’m reading her second novel The Flamethrowers. Don’t ask me what it’s about – I’ve only started – but already I think I can see another side of Rachel K. This time the character is named Reno. Sorry, no one-letter abbreviation for a last name. Just Reno. She’s called Reno, because, well, she’s from Reno, Nevada. In the first chapter, the author has exchanged the fishnet stocking look that Rachel K displayed in Telex for sweaty leather racing pants that Reno sports in Flamethrowers.Reno has just graduated from art school and she his headed cross-country for New York City on an Italian motorcycle for inspiration. Immediately, I see a lot of Rachel K in Reno. Ernie Hemingway often based his fiction on his real-life experience. In The Sun Also Rises, the main character Jake Barnes eerily reminds us of the author himself. He drinks, fights, and betrays his closest friends. In this novel, Jake B says, "Everybody behaves badly. Give them the proper chance." Rachel Kushner appears to follow his advice. She makes her own rules. I like it.
Nearly fifty years ago, I began my first semester at college at UC Santa Barbara, and if my math is correct, that means I was about the same age as most of my students are now. One of my first elective classes was called something like “Pop Culture History.” Pop Culture was a relatively new term then, so I didn’t know what it meant exactly, but it fit into my schedule, so I took it. I mean with the word “Pop” in the title, how hard could it be? On the syllabus, the professor had offered us list of 50 people or topics we could choose from to write our term papers. I didn’t know it THEN, but I know it NOW, that everything we discussed or read in this class has left a indelible stamp on our culture and history. I chose James Dean. I don’t know why. This was before the internet had been invented. I had probably seen his poster – BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS - sold in shopping malls and thought he was cool. Jaja. In this way I can relate to how my students choose their research topics. I openly admiit: Not much thought involved in my selection process! But, my paper turned out to be 21 pages TYPED – with a TYPEWRITER! It was my first A. I remember that the students on my dormitory floor loved the essay. They volunteered to read parts of it out loud in my dorm room; however, I eventually saw my classmates in Pop Culture History hate me for the grade I received. I mean, I probably wrote twice as much as anyone else. That’s because I found so much to write about. James Dean was and still is such an interesting figure. He only made three films before he died in a fiery car crash at age twenty four. These three, we still talk about today. In my research paper, I wrote of his journey to become an important actor. That goal he definitely achieved. I can’t think of too many actors as INTERESTING as James Dean.
This week I finished Peter Winkler'sThe Real James Dean; then, I watched Dean’s last film Giant. It was Jimmy D's last film because he died before the film was ever completed. In this movie, he plays a character that elevates from an impovershed young man to a greedy-ass, cutthroat oil tycoon. He ages 50 years in this movie. I might be able to say, that when Jimmy assumes the character of Jett Rink, he is basically playing himself – a man of relentless ambition and single-minded focus. But I would be wrong. We will never know how James Dean would have fared in real life. On the morning of Sept. 30, 1955, he drove his brand new Porsche 550 Spyder from Hollywood enroute to Salinas to participate in a racing event.
THEY TOLD HIM NOT TO GO. The studio knew who he was and what he was about. His contract prohibited him from all racing events during the duration of the film shoot. Jimmy D waited until all his scenes were shot before speeding off into the Wide Blue Yonder. If ACTING was the most important thing in his life, SPEED may have been a close second. Following Grapevine on the way up to Salinas, Jimmy D received a ticket - for SPEEDING. Two hours later, he found himself approaching a barren stretch of the highway. This is where highways 466/41 and 46 meet. He saw a Ford Coupe carelessly enter the intersection apparenty without checking oncoming traffic. The last words Jimmy Dean ever said were to his friend sitting in the passenger seat of the Spyder: "That guy is going to see us, Right?" Dean suffered a broken neck in the head-on collision. First responders at the scene probably didn't know who he was. The public had seen him in only one film, East of Eden.Rebel without a Cause was yet to be released. Giant was in the can. By the time an ambulance transported him to the nearest hospital, Jimmy D was D.O.A.
Peter Winkler's The Real James Dean is an anthology of interviews, articles and personal memories of the young actor who left us much too early.This may be hard to believe, but many of the most insightful and interesting recolloections of Jimmy may have come from people who knew him before he became James Dean. Adeline Nall was his high-school English teacher in Fairmont. Indiana. She was the one who turned Jimmy on to Drama and Speech. It wasn't easy! Young Jimmy was the school's basketball and baseball star. He would have been the first to tell you that academics just wasn't his thing. But, when Mrs. Nall posted the announcement of an Indiana statewide speech tournament, she must have have stirred Jimmy's competitive juices. In her essay, she describes how he transformed into a serious actor right before her eyes. Participants in this Indiana speech tournament would be required to step on stage an present and interpret dramatic readings in front of thousands of people. This was Indiana basektball-mad country, and Jimmy was the leading scorer on his high-school team. Stepping on stage in front of a skeptical crowd was his thing. He personally selected his own monologue to read from a college catalogue claled, "A Madman's Manuscript." He once told the New York Times that it was "about this real gone cat who knocks off several people." He implored Mrs. Nall to teach him everything she knew, probably in same way a boxer implores guidance from his trainer. Jimmy D was hooked by the acting bug. He became the statewide winner in Dramatic Declamation.
This book is filled with these types of anecdotes. Everyone in the book recognizes Jimmy's complete devotion to becoming an actor - even if they didn't seem to like him as a person. They respected his single-minded focus. His father writes of the life-long strain in their relationship. On more than a few occasions, he tried to steer Jimmy away from acting. "Jimmy, acting is a good hobby," he told him, "but why don't you study something substantial?" This happened when Jimmy came out West to study acting at UCLA. By this time in his life, he tuned everyone out save for his acting coach or director. Several actors who shared the stage with him apparently hated the experience of working with him. It seems while an entire cast could be dedicated to one goal, Jimmy goals often drifted far, far away from theirs. How could they not? We know now Jimmy to act on another plane. Popular character actor Hume Cronyn blasted Jimmy for not following the script. In rehearsals, he would not only find Jimmy off mark, but he could not depend that he would read the lines he was supposed to. Jimmy D was a method actor deluxe. His ideas came deep from within his soul, not form the mind of the writers. In Rebel Without a Cause, Jimmy nearly killed the actor playing his father, Jim Backus, in the shooting of a family feud: "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART!" In Giant, Jimmy nearly duked it out with Rock Hudson, on and off camera. Rock, who was much more famous, wasn't going to allow this up-and-comer steal his scenes. Jimmy thought Rock was a lousy actor. The tension they exude on screan is REAL. Just the way Jimmy wanted it.
Near the end of the book, legendary actor Sir Alec Guiness shares an encounter he had with the unknown James Dean – this was before any of Jimmy’s movies would have made it to the big screen.The meeting of these two legends took place at a small Italian restaurant called the Villa Capri. Sir Alec had just been turned away at the door, for the restaurant was full. I would imagine that doesn’t happen too often to a big star like Sir Alec, but it did. Sir Alec writes about his hunger and frustation he felt walking away, when a young man came up quickly to invite him to join him at his table inside the restaurant. It was James Dean! But that name wouldn’t mean anything to Sir Alec. He was just relieved for the opportunity to sit down and eat. Sir Alec gladly followed Jimmy back to the restaurant, only to have Jimmy firrst guide him through the restaurant’s courtyard where the young man had parked his brand new Porsche Spyder that coud travel at speeds exceeding 150 miles per hour.Jimmy told Sir Alec he just completed his latest film, and he planned to race the Spyder in Salinas the very next week.
Sir Alec, known for his impeccable control on stage, may have lost a little bit of it when he peered into Jimmy’s eyes. He must have understood that Jimmy was dying for his approval; otherwise, why would he have chased him down the street? This is the advice that Sir Alec gave to the young actor. “Please, never get in it,” he said. “If you get in that car you will be found dead in it by this time next week.” Sir Alec was known for his interests in the paranormal. He was a regular patron of Tarot readings. He writes himself he had experienced visions of his own fate, a few of them may have saved him from his own death. But, why was he sharing his fears o a complete stranger? Jimmy’s reaction was very much in line with how he listened to people throughout this book. If it wasn’t about acting, he just didn’t listen. One week later, Jimmy was pronounced dead on arrival at Paso Robles War Memorial Hospital.
It’s hard to believe that I’m still writing about Jimmy D fifty years after I first saw him on the big screen.I must pay tribute my college professor that provided his students with opportunities to explore and/or discover new interests. In each of the classes I teach now, I find providing students choice of research topics empowers them with a special sense of freedom that they unfortunately do not see in many classes. The results are often deeply personal responses to what they read. Funny how that works. I read every day. A book a week. I often feel disconnected from the interests of my students, but at the same time I look to my own reading to create new interests for them to discover. I’m constantly creating new lists of topics that may engage them in my semester writing projects. I won’t be around, but maybe in fifty years, some of my students will still be talking about the topics they covered in Mr. Lewenstein’s class.
Above: Jay's Practice Musical Annotation - David Bowie - "Changes"
This week I provide my students with THREE annotation assignments.
As they work with their text, I want them to consider all of the ways they can connect with what they are reading. Here are some suggestions that will help them with their annotations:
Re-write, paraphrase, or summarize a particularly difficult passage or moment.
Make meaningful connections to your own life experiences.
Describe a new perspective you may now have.
Explain the historical context or traditions/social customs that are used in the passage.
Offer an analysis or interpretation of what is happening in the text.
Point out and discuss literary techniques that the author is using.
Let's Work Together - Learn How to Identify Key Elements of Your Research Articles.
WHY DO WE DO THIS?
My students will find that annotations will RAISE THEIR FOCUS and TAKE THEM DEEPER into THEIR topics - EVERYBODY WINS!
I find the students who make the BEST annotations, write the BEST research papers. Funny how that works!
How Do We Learn How to ANNOTATE on MICROSOFT WORD?
Jay's Note: I use Microsoft Word here because I thought it would be most accessible to my students
If they prefer another way, THAT'S COOL - I just want to see your ANNOTATIONS
If they want to stick with HAND-WRITTEN NOTES, that's GOOD - But, let's GET IT DONE.
Jay's Note:
I will ask my students to see their annotations in your SIXTIES RESEARCH BINDER - It will be a BIG DEAL for your OVERALL GRADE in THIS CLASS.
I'm looking for SIX RESERACH ARTICLES - ANNOTATED - for their next SURPRIZE BINDER CHECK.
They WON'T REGRET IT - By closely reading your RESEARCH ARTICLES, you will walk of English 105 with NEW KNOWLEDGE and NEW SKILLS.
I tell them: DON'T BE ONE OF THOSE GUYS - who just FAKE THEIR WAY through their COLLEGE CLASSES - THEY DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE THAT!
Jay's Practice "Word" Annotations for Marilyn Monroe:
Above: Jay's Microsoft Word Annotations for Marilyn Monroe
Some students in the class may be more COMFORTABLE at writing their ANNOTATIONS by HAND - That will work - But, NEATNESS COUNTS!
I need to see SIX ANNOTATED ARTICLES in your RESEARCH BINDER
On Tuesday we will WARM UP with the ANNOTATION of "Geraldo No Last Name."
* We will read a COOL Sandra C. story - I will ask you to work in groups and ANNOTATE the text.
My plan is to pass out stickies in class - Each group member will be required to make TWO annotations on stickies.
Each group will need to submit their annotations in the format of a table
I have practiced below with my two annotations - Each group will need SIX annotations to complete the table.
GREEN PANTS AND SATURDAY SHIRT:
Geraldo seems like a guy who works all week. Green might mean "Go." Like, for a few hours on the weekend he finally feels free. I remember the "Green Light" from the Great Gatsby. It represented the American Dream.
-- J. Lewenstein
THEY MET AT A DANCE: I know Marin from reading Sandra Cisneros's The House on Mango Street. She's a beautiful girl. She probably has many boyfriends, but this guy for some reason touches her heart. Like Geraldo, Marin is from an immigrant family. She probably knows more about him than is provided in the story -- J. Lewenstein
NOTHING IN HIS POCKETS:
LAST ONE TO SEE HIM ALIVE:
THAT THE ONES HE LEFT BEHIND WILL WONDER:
SURGEON DIDN'T COME:
On Tuesday, I will ask you to COMPLETE your SIXTIES BINGO CARD.
Here is a partial SNIP from my Bingo Card from last year:
* Now when I look at my Amy Winehouse Bingo Card, I realized I used MOST if NOT ALL of this information in my essay!
On Thursday, I plan to have you bring your favorite SIXTIES music to annotate in class.
Here is a Katie Perry sample ANNOTATION - I know. I know she's not SIXTIES, but the sample will help you make your own ANNOTATIONS!
This is going to be a GREAT WEEK in English 105 - DON'T MISS OUT!
I have read my share of Detective Mario Conde, the protagonist of Cuban author Leonardo Padura’s novel Transparency of Time. I first discovered him in the Netflix telenovela Las cuatro estaciones – The Four Seasons. I watched all the episodes in Spanish before I bought the Padura novels they are based upon. Mario C. is a not-so-glamorous Havana homocide detective. When I say “not-so-glamorous” I mean he doesn’t look like he’s making enough money to put up a good front. As a reader, I'm worried about Poor Mario C. He seems PASSIVE - like he's accepted his fate, a Cuban life of hanging on by a thread. He knows he's never going to get anywhere. All his dreams for NAUGHT.
In the series of novels I have read, he doesn’t think he is paid the respect he deserves, and consequently, he has stopped paying attention to what people think of him a long, long time ago. This is Cuba in the eighties. In the telenovela, he may be close to forty years old. His hair is long and his face is invariably unshaved. He always seemed to wear the same clothes to work. A long-sleeved flannel work shirt and blue jeans. In this way, he’s a different kind of cop than I read about in most detective thrillers.
I admire him because he’s a dedicated and talented cop, but I also notice he is not-so-happy, NO! He’s sensitive and introspective. He is always wondering how he ever became a cop in the first place. He just doesn’t seem to fit in. Because he was always good in school, he had dreams of becoming a writer. Now he’s surrounded by street-hardened people who have touched more dead bodies than books. Many of them are corrupted by Cuban politics. Mario’s cases are exciting and important, but at the same time, he’s got a lot going on inside. He’s not married. He has no famlly to speak of. Worst of all, his only friends are disappearing from his life. They are leaving the island one-by-one. Mario feels SO ALONE. Soon there will be nothing left of his Cuba.
In this novel Transparency of Time, he has reached the age of sixty. Time is running out for Mario C. He’s no longer on the police force. He’s old and feeble and he’s scrambling to make ends meet with odd jobs. In this story, a schoolyard friend appears out of nowhere to request his help to retrieve stolen property. Mario C doesn’t really trust this guy, but he’s desperate for money. This leads to more self-doubt and self-contempt. He begins DRINKING HEAVILY. Arguing with his FRIENDS and LOVERS. Nothing in his personal or professional life has got him anywhere, and in Cuba, nothing much is going to change. He knows that. From one chapter to the next, you don’t know what will come first. Will he shoot a murder suspect? Or will he put his own gun in his mouth?
I'm not writing a book report here; The story of Transparency is complicated as it is convuluted.This is how the story goes: His old friend from high school that shows up on his doorstep is really not, or has never been, a friend at all. This guy, Bobby, was suspected of being a homosexual in college, and in Cuba, that's enough to be kicked out of the university, shunned by your friends, and worse. Bobby must be seeking out Mario, for back then when they were young, Mario was the only one to show any degree of tolerance for his sexuality. Moreover, he knows Mario became a detective, and now he needs him to retrieve a religious, family artificact stolen from him by an ex-lover. But in truth, Mario didn't really like Bobby THEN, so he doesn't really like Bobby NOW. The thing is that Bobby has a lot of money that he's willing to pay for Mario's services, and Mario is in no condition to turn it down. The thought of working for a friend brings down Mario down another notch. He feels both insulted an guilty.
But, Mario is sucked in by Bobby's story. The artifact that Bobby wants to recover has been kept in the family for hundreds of years. It's a statue of a Black Madonna. That's right. Like a Virgin Guadalupe, but BLACK. And the Black Madonna is holding a WHITE BABY. Bobby says the statue is of important sentimental value, but his desperation to get it back speaks to it's economic value. Mario recognizes that the rarity of the statue can bring in a near fortune on the international black market for stolen art. He doesn't like the fact that Bobby is lying to his face, but he loves the story behind the Madonna. I told you Mario C. is a smart guy of great intellectual curiosity. He gets caught up in the history of the Black Madonna. It involves Religious Persection, the War for the Holy Land, the Spanish Civil War, Rape, Murder... Bobby shares a story of his own grandfather fleeing on a ship out of Portugal headed for Cuba - with only the shirt on his back and the Madonna in a sack. His grandfather's story involves the Knights of the Templar who once fought to the death to protect the Madonna. Mario can't help feeling that he is participating in a Search for a Holy Grail.
I could break it down, but here is the important part, in my mind, is the "breakdown" of Mario Conde at age SIXTY. I like Mario C. He is a tough guy and a big reader. He’s a good cop, but his real ambition in life is to become a writer. All his life he has dreamed of writing stories about his beloved Cuba. He has plenty of stories to tell – about family, murder, corruption, art and baseball – but he doesn’t have anyone who cares to listen. At age 60, he is lonely and disillusioned. He drinks like a fish. In five to six Mario C novels I have read, when people ask him what type of stories does he write, he tells them “Escualido y conmovedor.” Moving and Squalid. It’s like an ongoing gag. People are phony, No one cares.
Here is why I’m writing today: I thought it odd that a character would repeat the same phrase over and over again, especially coming from a writer as poetic and talented as Leon Padura. I mean, it was getting tiresome. So I googled up the words – “Moving and Squalid” – and I discovered something very similar in a book of short stories by J.D. Salinger. The best story in the collection is titled “For Esme with Love and Squalor.” When I say “best,” I mean the best short story I have ever read. It’s about a young WWII soldier on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Esme is a young girl who tries to placate the young man, but she has never seen what he has seen, so how could she possible understand what he feels. Spoiler Alert: the story doesn’t end well.
At the end of Transparency, I won’t tell you the exact circumstances, but Mario C takes a bullet that nearly ends his life. Let’s just say he stayed on the case to the very end. In the hospital, he is in danger of hemorraging but the doctor tells him he will survive - under one condition – that he not touch to any alcohol… This is like Mario C’s ninth novel. Everyone who has read him can surmise what is going to happen next. Mario just doesn’t care to listen to any one or care anymore. He’s lost his friends. He’s lost his job. He’s told Bobby to disappear from his life, never to return. Of course, he starts drinking. In a way, Mario C resembles the country he loves so dearly. At age sixty he sees no future. He's wrapped up in a past that he will never see again. He knows finding the Black Madonna is not going to help. Clearly both the writer and the detective in Mario would connect with the characters in a J.D. Salinger work. They are all lonely and broken.
Over Winter Break, I read the Graham Greene novel The Heart of the Matter about the most MISERABLE man, living in the most MISERABLE place, married to the most MISERABLE woman. Major Scobie is the assistant commissioner of police in a lawless, hopelessly corrupt Sierra Leone. He’s been here fifteen years, and he knows nothing is going to change any time soon. And, his wife is killing him. She hates it in Sierra Leone, but he can’t, or won’t transfer anywhere because his position provides him with the only semblance of dignity he has left. At his work, he has an impossible task to police a population that doesn’t want him there. At home, there is no peace. Everything his wife says or does annoys him. But this is when Graham Greene weaves a twist into the plot. Scobie meets a young woman, Helen, who has been hospitalized after a tragic experience. She's not that pretty. She's not that friendly. This is World War II. A submarine sank her ship off the West Coast of Africa. In the middle of this turmoil, Scobie falls in love. Every moment he is with her, he feels guilty for abandoning his wife. Every moment he is with his wife, he is thinking about his new lover. It just might the WORST thing that has ever happened to him. I mean, it gets so bad, he just wants to shoot himself. I told you he was MISERABLE!
I’m not writing a book report here, but I am willing to share my appreciation for this MISERABLE MAN. It seems like Scobie is honest, insightful and professional. He always tries to make the best of what is handed him. The beginning of the novel begins with news that he will not receive the promotion that he so righteously deserves. All the sacrifices and hard work he has dedicated to his job, he realizes is all for naught. He’s stuck in place. There is nothing positive or hopeful he can tell his wife about his future. Probably the worse thing he has going for him is his commitment to his Catholic religion. Every step he makes seems to be clouded in guilt.
Readers knowledgeable of Greene's background will see a connection between his Real Life and his Real Fiction. Shortly before he began this novel his marriage to his wife Viven was crumbling. Graham was known for his womanizing ways. Especially by his wife. During the early forties, Greene practically abandanoned his family in Oxford to live with his lover, Dorothy Glover, in London, but because Vivien was a devout Catholic, she wasn't about to give the author a divorce. Greene is famously regarded as a Catholic writer. At least a writer who integrates Catholic themes into his novels. This year alone, I have read and/or re-read his prestigious works The Power of the Glory, Brighton Rock, The Quiet Man, and The End of an Affair. All of them are dominated by Catholic protagonists who are haunted by their own guilt. They drink, they cheat, and they consider their own suicides. In the Catholic church, suicide is a sin. I'm not sure if Greene shared the same thoughts as his characters, but in The Heart of the Matter, he leaves Scobie with little options for peace in his life. ( I won't tell you what option he chooses.)
Scobie is not a loser!He's a police officer. He believes in the rule of law. He's a Catholic. He believes in Damnation for sinners. Every day he tries his best to show respect and compassion for the people around him, with little sign that any of it will come back his way. For me, the best representation of Scobie in the novel comes from his time spent reading out loud to a dying child in the hospital ward. This is in the same room where his future lover resides. The little boy is not going to make it through the night, and the nurse has assigned him the most boring book to read – one of the few that are available on the hospital ward's miserable bookshelf. Instead of letting the child pass listening to the meaningless prose of an adult novel, Scobie chose to invent and share a more pleasant story about a rabbit in the child’s last moments on this Earth. He included hand motions and finger postions that resembled the shape of the rabbits ears. Both his future lover (listening in a hospital bed across the room) and the little boy appeared to enjoy Scobies efforts. When the nurse returned, both Helen and the Boy have smiles on their faces. That’s when Scobie heard the nurse’s voice from behind him: “Stop that,” she said harshly, “the child’s dead.”
That shouldn’t be funny, I know. I think I laugh out loud because I have rarely seen anyone who writes in the style of Graham Greene. He has the skills to position his characters in heart-wrenching scenes that begin with hope and end with despair. There seems nothing that Scobie could have done for the boy; what he did do was his best. But that didn’t save him from the wrath of the angry nurse. Greene seems to spend LESS time preaching to his readers and MORE time reminding them of randomness of the universe. What happened to Scobie could have happened to anyone. Was there a connection between his sinful ways and the ugly pattern of events he confronts in this novel? That’s up to the reader to decide. I like it that way.
I laugh for the detailed, realistic descriptions of each scene. Right out of college, Greene joined the British secret service and travelled the world. He was afforded the cover of professional journalists. He actually did file stories about the populations and politices of the countries he visited. He did this in Vietnam before writing The Quiet American. He gave the literary world a taste of The Cold War in his Cuban novel Our Man in Havana. His first on-site entry into poitical intrigue may have come in Freetown, Sierra Leone. The result is the photographic scenes he paints of fat Syrian smuggler in The Heart of the Matter. Scobie succumbs to the obious corrupt intentions of one Yusef – he agrees to help him smuggle diamonds out of the country, for he is desperate for money to help his wife leave the country. Myself, a lonely Jew, I would never find myself involved with an Arab gangster, or manipulated by a hysterical wife. I probably began reading Greene to escape my own dreary life. His writing opened my eyes to parts of the world I would never experience myself, or learn about in school.
It’s still early in 2025, which tells me I still have time to create a Book Goal - Something I don’t think I have ever done before. But now is the time to do so. I’m just rollin’. Here in my classroom blog, I see I have shared my novel reading six weeks straight. I think I can keep the pace. That will make FIFTY novels for the year. Each night I go to bed with 3-5 books on my nightstand. The novel I just completed was written by an author I studied in college, more than forty years ago. The Heart of the Matter counts for One in Ten books written by Graham Greene or about him I have recently read. I mark my progress on my classroom blog and Facebook page. FORTY more to go says the signpost in Jay’s Reading Marathon. I choose my books for a number of reasons. This year I’ve decided to mix in books and authors I read as a college graduate student. Not just Graham Greene, but other Modern British authors, Twentieth Century American classics, Shakespeare, Foreign-Language novels translated into English. In several of my classes, we are reading a Sixties novel and writing Sixties Research Papers. To stay one step ahead of my students, I’m constantly reading books about the politics, music, and culture of the decade. In two other classes, we read a novel set in New York City. On my reading list, I’m sneaking in a few novels that were either written in or about the Big Apple. I see an exciting new writing project on my horizon.
WHY DO I DO THIS? My introduction to literature in college may have been the happiest time of my life. Much before I finished a novel, I had already begun considering/researching the next one I would read. There was no need for a Book Goal. My goals turned into habits. I suppose the difference is that today I READ WHAT I WANT TO READ. Reading what I read in college brings back fond memories. I’m HAPPY. The experience turned me into a life-long reader. In one of my schools this week I taught the the first couple of classes of Spring Semester 2025. I told my students First and Formost, “BUY THE BOOK!” They won’t regret it. Some day, like forty years from now, they will reach for it on their own shelves and remember the good times they had in their college English class.
Lefty “El Zurdo” Mendieta is the complicated homocide detective featured in the Elmer Mendoza novels I read in both English and Spanish. I describe him as complicated here because on the outside he appears handsome, competent and confident, but in Culiacán, Sinaloa, that doesn’t mean all that much. Appearances can be deceiving. The entire region is infested with Narco-Traficante violence and crime. In Mendoza’s novel, La Prueba del Acido, Lefty is caught in the middle of a major drug war between the Mexican government and the Narcos. Everywhere Lefty turns, someone is lying to him; whether it is a woman, man, friend, or foe. Nothing, he knows, is going to get any better. The violence and corruption is only escalating. He knows he will never know what love is from a woman. He knows he is dependent on alcohol, pills, and a psychaitrist that is never there when he needs him. In this novel, he's called to a crime scene to discover that the victim is his most recent lover. Not only has she been murdered, but she is mutiliated and left to bleed out in an open field. “Dark days are coming,” warns a cartel mafioso. Lefty could have said something back, but what is there to say in Culiacán, Mexico. Darkness is his business.
It's hard not to like Lefty. In this book, he has reached a point in his career where people know him and respect him. That’s because he is good at what he does. Somehow, he’s learned to develop a style and attitude to get things done and stay alive as everything crumbles around him. This may be because he hasn’t drifted far from the neighbohood he grew up in. Many of his friends he ran with as a youngster have moved into and upwards in the Narco trade. He maintains his connections. He knows it could have happened to him. His older brother, who he loves very much, disappeared from his life at an early age after being forced by gangsters to murder a priest. The brother crosses over to the United States never to be heard from again. Until now. In this book, Lefty, doesn’t learn the complete story of his brother until late in his life. It doesn’t matter. Sinaloa just doesn’t make sense.
Deep down, Lefty is Bad Ass. Macho. Violent. He’s not one to shy away from a fight from anyone. But, at the same time, he shows love and respect for the women in his life. When the mother of his teenage son pops into his life, he’s ready and willing to provide the support she needs - even though she had left him for the United States while she was still pregnant with the baby, never disclosing to him that they were Mother and Father. Gris, his partner in the Homicide Division, is young and beautiful, so she is always hassled by pendejos in the office. Lefty, who found her in the Parking Division, seems to admire her more for her courage and dedication to the job. He’s ready to step in and defend her when needed. He also wants her to be HAPPY. Trudis is his housekeeper and spiratual guide. She’s from the neighborhood. She knows what’s up when she finds him beaten up physically or mentally. For all the Macho, in Lefty, he listens to what she has to say.
In this novel, the woman that draws most of Lefty’s attention, is Mayra Cabral de Melo. She’s a Brazilian stripper, prostitute that works in the local Narco clubs. We don’t know how close or how long they were together, but Mayra occupies a special place in Lefty’s heart. She’s well-read and writes poetry in her diaries. You have to imagine that Mayra moves Lefty a long distance away from the violent world he lives in. That’s until he finds her dead and naked behind a warehouse in the middle of a tomato field. One of her nipples has been sliced off with a knife. Lefty is clearly DEVASTATED at the crime scene, but he can't let it show. He tells no one he was involved with the murder victim. This is when Lefty stops eating the delicious chicharones that Trudis prepares for his breakfasts and instead feasts on pills and whiskey.
I’m not writing a book report here. I can't write much without spoiling the story. I can say this: Lefty's complicated nature makes each of these novels a GOODREAD. Five years ago, when Covod first hit, I read in the New Yorker that the sales of guitars were rocketing through the roof. That’s because people felt trapped at home. They needed an escape. Music was the way. They learned how to occupy their free time by learning new chords on their guitars. I've been there and done that; instead, I chose to read Spanish-language novels. I like reading the Spanish version simultaneously with the English version, or vice versa. I usually read entire chapters at a time, and then go back and forth to confirm my understanding. On the cover of my Enlish-language Acid Test, Elmer Mendoza’s name is followed by “The Godfather of Lit." This may be true. He knows his way around Culiacán. I was first introduced to him by reading La Reina del Sur – the Queen of the South – a Spanish-language novel that followed the rise of a young woman from the streets of Culiacan to the top of a powerful Narco Drug Cartel. Author Arturo Arturo Pérez-Reverte credits his consultations with his friend Elmer Mendoza for the grim reality of the story.Since reading La Reina del Sur, I’ve read 4-5 Elmer Mendoza novels. TWICE – Once in English, and Once in Spanish. I can say I have read LaPrueba del Acido THREE TIMES, since having discovered how to download the Spanish version on Itunes.
La Prueba del Acido took me a long time to read. Whatever I read in Spanish version of a novel, I try to annotate in my English version. This way, I find myself more focused and organized in my Spanish learning. I try to underline, circle, star(*) words and phrases I may be able to incorporate into my everyday language. I'll read a chapter in English, before I read in Spanish. Both my English-language and Spanish-language copies of my novels are marked up, HIGHLIGHTED, beyond recognition. But, poco a poco, I transfer my favorite phrases to my notebooks. Lately, I'm reading a lot of Elmer Mendoza. I see the same vocabulary and characters pop up in my reading. I'm using the dictionary less. I 'm sharing what I read with the Mexicans I know. That's a sign I'm immersing myself in both the reading and the culture.
When I’m not preparing lessons or grading student work, I’m studying Spanish. I take this time to get far away from my computer as I can. To avoid online distraction, I take my books and pens to a coffee shop, or VIPs, a nearby gasolinera; this place works for me. I like the large tables they have inside where I can spread out my study materials and drink my coffee. It’s not rare that I meet someone there from Sinaloa. When, they see me highlighting my books, they ask me if I’m studying the bible. Jaja. That’s when I tell them, “No, estoy estudiando Sinaloa.” This is where my real Spanish-language practice begins. We talk about Elmer Mendoza, Culiacán, and Narco Traficantes. I share with them knowledge I’ve picked up from my reading. From my novels I know about the food, music, culture, and the beaches in Mazatlán. I like talking to the Sinaloenses. Many of them have spent the greater parts of their lives in Mexicali, but their hearts remain in Sinaloa. I’m not sure they are all too conscious of it, but when they talk of their homeland they beat their chests two or three times in each conversation.
I often wonder about my favorite detective, Lefty Mendieta. In each novel, he is threatened, beaten, an on occasion, blown up. I often wonder why he doesn’t get the hell out of there. I mean, for him, it’s DARK. He just can’t leave. He can’t live anywhere else. I realize from Sinaloenses I meet here in the Gasolnera, it doesn’t matter how much Spanish I learn, as a Gringo, I will never feel or understand what they do. I can read it in their faces.
You are what you read.The first week of the semester students take the time to introduce themselves through their reading. We call it “Book Out of Your Past.” Instead of the brief mention of their hobbies and pets, they reflect upon a memorable literary experience. They post their fondest memories and greatest discoveries. We don’t really care what the book was about, but we want to know how this reading experience affected them. Often is the case, they find they are not alone in their appreciation of their selection. You might not judge a book by its cover, but here we learn what is often hidden inside of others.
The Sixties were a time of change. We saw new hope with the election of John. F. Kennedy. The Civil Rights Movement created forward progress in diminishing racial injustice. The Beatles inspired an entire generation with peace and love. However, we also witnessed great tragedy. The assassination of President Kennedy and the escalation of the Vietnam War would forever alter our trust in our own government. The deaths of Marilyn Monroe, Bobby Kennedy, and Martin Luther King are clouded in conspiracy to this day. We look at Woodstock as an iconic event of the decade, but we will never forget Manson family massacre. My students follow the upheaval of the times through characters in the novels they read in class. Their research papers compare a seminal moment, event, person, or idea of the Sixties with a present-day counterpart. On the following pages look for students reflect upon the effect of hippie culture on today’s hip-hop culture. Have we learned anything from our experience in Vietnam? Look for writing that focuses upon our role in the Middle East. Can you see a relationship between JFK and Barack Obama? The Feminist Movement and today’s Gay Rights Movement? Janis Joplin and Taylor Swift? My students are going back to the future.
This is not your father’s essay. Not your mother’s, I tell my students. Not your typical English 101, five-paragraph essay. With this “Faces in the Crowd,” assignment, students profile an interesting, important figure in their own community. We use our writing to open up a greater discussion of social and political import. With first-hand research of an uncle’s minimum-wage job experience in the fields, for example, a student can better address the issue of worker rights. An interview with a former teacher can lead nicely into an insightful paper about educational reform. Here is our goal: to provide our own commentary, questions, interpretations, clarifications or even feelings of what we have read and heard. In other words, we take possession of our source and establishing our presence in our papers. The writing here reflects the diversity of student interest and concern regarding important issues in our community.
Girl, Interrupted speaks to our hearts and minds. When we read this memoir during the semester I notice more students arriving earlier and leaving later. Everyone seems to have something to say. Author Susanna Kaysen writes of her turbulent teen-age years when she was creative, intelligent, and uncontrollable. We know that. We can see the beauty in her writing and also the anger. The closer people try to get to her, the more distant she becomes. Ultimately her parents commit her to MacLean Mental Hospital. This is the true-to-life story of a young girl who had it all and threw it away. No one knows why. Not even Susanna herself. Do you know anyone like that? My students seem like they do. In the following pages, they write with compassion and insight.
Can you explain sacrifice? I mean how far are you willing to go? Ok, we all know sacrifice is the performance of an unselfish act. But, it’s not just about giving; it’s about giving everything. Did you see what Jack did for Rose at the end of the Titanic? How do people completely lose themselves to the need for revenge? Where does it come from? Where does it lead? It’s worse than an addiction to crack cocaine. Most people bent on revenge can’t stop until they’ve completely destroyed themselves and everyone around them. Have you experienced true love? It’s the craziest thing ever. It’s like getting hit by a truck! Who could possibly explain it, but when you feel it in your heart you know exactly what it is. Think of Allie and Noah in "The Notebook." Here, students have been asked to define an idea on their own terms. Instead of looking to the dictionary, they look to the big screen. They analyze, evaluate, and interpret their favorite characters and scenes. They write about true meaning.
”I wish someone knew what I was going through…” Too many of our young people are suffering in the shadows. We hope our classroom research and writing will contribute to a “safe zone” on campus where students, staff and instructors can develop understanding of complicated mental health issues. Our goal is to break the negative stigma associated with mental illness. For starters, we look to create a cross-the curriculum dialogue of anxiety, depression, drug addiction, and suicidal thoughts. Over time, our posts will offer information relative to disorders, diagnosis, and treatment information. Let’s face it. None of us by ourselves is trained or confident to identify or alleviate extreme emotional trauma, but the writing in our Mental Health Encyclopedia may help facilitate important discussion. We believe a knowledgeable community plays an important role in helping students express themselves.
Tattoos are visual arguments, personal statements. They tell us where a person stands. Here, students have been asked to develop a critical analysis of a tattoo of their choosing. Like in all of their writing, they will consider context. What do they know of the design? How does the tattoo impact the perception of the person wearing it? How does the tattoo connect with the person’s life? Who is the target audience? In answering these questions, writers will pay close attention to shapes, colors, and details. What are the first visual elements to catch the eye? What is the relationship between the image and any text that might accompany it?
Most of my students argue tattoos are an important/interesting form of self-expression.
OK. What is the wearer of the tattoo trying to say?
Tortured Artists put it all out there for all of us to see, but with great art often comes great misery. The pressure to generate or perform can create inner turmoil and volatile personality. Our discussions in class on this subject began with Judy Garland who played Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz.” After bursting on the Hollywood scene as a child star, she spend the rest of her life on drugs and alcohol trying to come down. At age 27, Kurt Cobain blew his head off with a shotgun. His suicide note implied it was the Ritalin he took as a child for attention-deficit disorder that propelled him to a life-long battle with heroin. Vincent van Gogh characterized his mania as a mixed blessing. His intense emotion spurred him on to produce a painting a day. He also chewed on tubes of oil paint and cut off his own ear. Here, we are inspired by the insanity of creativity. In the following pages our students explore the troubles that lie just beneath surface of our favorite artists.
Life is a mirror and will reflect back to the thinker what he thinks into it. Ernest Holmes said this, but now its my students' turn to reflect. They are writing visual analyses of images associated with their research papers. Did you know the average American woman is 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighs 140 pounds, but the average American model is 5 feet 11 inches tall and weighs 117 pounds? My students write about pressure and anxiety inflicted on us by the media. Rarely are women completely satisfied with what they see in the mirror. In this environment, they develop unhealthy obsessions with their bodies that can lead to tragic circumstances. Our posts encourage young women to challenge these constraints, and be able to feel comfortable in their own bodies, no matter what. Others approach bipolar disorder, depression, teenage suicide from a variety of different angles. A picture is worth a thousand words.
Tortured Artists put it all out there for all of us to see, but with great art often comes great misery. The pressure to generate or perform can create inner turmoil and volatile personality. Our discussions in class on this subject began with Judy Garland who played Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz.” After bursting on the Hollywood scene as a child star, she spend the rest of her life on drugs and alcohol trying to come down. At age 27, Kurt Cobain blew his head off with a shotgun. His suicide note implied it was the Ritalin he took as a child for attention-deficit disorder that propelled him to a life-long battle with heroin. Vincent van Gogh characterized his mania as a mixed blessing. His intense emotion spurred him on to produce a painting a day. He also chewed on tubes of oil paint and cut off his own ear. Here, we are inspired by the insanity of creativity. In the following pages our students explore the troubles that lie just beneath surface of our favorite artists.
Perfectly Imperfect - from Lemec Torres - English 110 In English 009, Lemec explored the stigma of mental illness in a class research paper. In English 110, she developed a community profile for a unique subject living in nearby Slab City. You will see a little bit of everything here in her Perfectly Imperfect blog
Deep EcoMatter - Cindy Huguez - English 009 It's been three days since the accident and I still can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I can hear the sound of the train approaching us, getting closer and louder, the wheels scraping on the metal train tracks, the pessimistic look of despair on their faces, and worst of all, the piercing scream that still haunts my ears
The Realist - Juana Bustos - English 009
My mother, the only parent I know, is both a mom and a dad to me. Both of my parents would work, but even then my father would demand for my mothers paychecks. He'd use that money to get totally wasted, and it went on for a while like this....
Brandy's World - Brandy Moya - English 008 In the book “Motorcycle Ride on the Sea of Tranquility” the most valuable part is when Chuy offered a ride to Yoli on his motorcycle through many places of the San Diego city. no. Yoli thought she hadn’t heard him right...
Sonia's - Sonia Sanchez - English 009 On November, 1993 both my father and brother started the Richard McGee Correctional Basic Correctional Academy....
English with Jay - Edna Romo - English 110 For America in the novel The Tortilla Curtain, Being married to Candido is like carrying a backpack full of bricks all day long....
COEXIST - Alejandra M. Lopez - English 009 My mother had struggled her whole life to make us happy. Being a single mother of two with two jobs was almost impossible yet it was her daily routine....
Lesly's World - Lesly Tirado - English 008 My father's addiction has had significant effects in my life. My father's alcohol abuse has made me realize what I want in my life and what I don’t want....
Queen K - Karissa Gomez - English 009 After the bell had rung, I quickly got to my seat, of course being tardy was probably a bad first impression because as soon as I picked a desk to sit at my teacher was glaring at me. He then began to yell at me saying how it was an essential to be on time to his class. This was my first encounter with my economics teacher and I already knew it was going to be a long year. Little did I know that Jack had a specific purpose in my life and although he was scary to me at first, he soon became my strongest adult in my life. As the years went by, I got to know Mr. Little and we became the greatest of friends. Once Jack Little passed away, I had a different perspective on the little amount of time we all have to live...
Lorena's Blog - Lorena Diaz, English 009 After living three years in this country, it was important for me to realize that I needed to go to school to learn English. I was feeling like I was illiterate and deaf. When my husband was in work I was afraid to answer the phone, or afraid to go outside. I remember the day when I had my first daughter, I was in pain in the hospital and my new born daughter was crying; the hospital was cold, with a pale color on the walls, and its smell was like alcohol. There were nurses walking on the long and bright hallway. You can hear the nurses talking morning and night. I couldn’t express myself and talk for my daughter that was crying...
It's been three days since the accident and I still can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I can hear the sound of the train approaching us, getting closer and louder, the wheels scraping on the metal train tracks, the pessimistic look of despair on their faces, and worst of all, the piercing scream that still haunts my ears
My mother, the only parent I know, is both a mom and a dad to me. Both of my parents would work, but even then my father would demand for my mothers paychecks. He'd use that money to get totally wasted, and it went on for a while like this....
In the book “Motorcycle Ride on the Sea of Tranquility” the most valuable part is when Chuy offered a ride to Yoli on his motorcycle through many places of the San Diego city. no. Yoli thought she hadn’t heard him right...
On November, 1993 both my father and brother started the Richard McGee Correctional Basic Correctional Academy....
For America in the novel The Tortilla Curtain, Being married to Candido is like carrying a backpack full of bricks all day long....
My mother had struggled her whole life to make us happy. Being a single mother of two with two jobs was almost impossible yet it was her daily routine....
My father's addiction has had significant effects in my life. My father's alcohol abuse has made me realize what I want in my life and what I don’t want....
After the bell had rung, I quickly got to my seat, of course being tardy was probably a bad first impression because as soon as I picked a desk to sit at my teacher was glaring at me. He then began to yell at me saying how it was an essential to be on time to his class. This was my first encounter with my economics teacher and I already knew it was going to be a long year. Little did I know that Jack had a specific purpose in my life and although he was scary to me at first, he soon became my strongest adult in my life. As the years went by, I got to know Mr. Little and we became the greatest of friends. Once Jack Little passed away, I had a different perspective on the little amount of time we all have to live...
After living three years in this country, it was important for me to realize that I needed to go to school to learn English. I was feeling like I was illiterate and deaf. When my husband was in work I was afraid to answer the phone, or afraid to go outside. I remember the day when I had my first daughter, I was in pain in the hospital and my new born daughter was crying; the hospital was cold, with a pale color on the walls, and its smell was like alcohol. There were nurses walking on the long and bright hallway. You can hear the nurses talking morning and night. I couldn’t express myself and talk for my daughter that was crying...