Literature in Art Books

I just picked this book up from the library, and now I just have to buy it for myself! This book has ingenious crafts for a very comprehensive list of classic fairy tales, children's stories, children's songs and nursery rhymes. To begin with, I couldn't have come up with a better collection of titles for my small children (stuff for babies, thru first grade, or so). The craft ideas are seriously original and very functional. The materials used are very common household items, and the instructions are clear. Most of the crafts are not so much for the kids themselves to make, but for an adult to make and use to present these classic works in a memorable way. Make Pinocchio's nose grow, the Old man "SNORE" (no kidding, it's really silly and fun), Jack climb the bean stock, and the Ginger Bread Man run... really! RUN!

I'm going to use this for homeschooling my kids in the classics. I'll bet they memorize each and every one. The only possible draw back to this book is that you must provide the stories themselves on your own. No biggie.

With drawings and quotes from bereaved brothers and sisters, the editor creates a touching memorial to the love between siblings. The book brings out not only the sadness, but also the difficult feelings, such as jealousy and guilt, that trouble the survivors. Any bereaved sibling reading this book will come away feeling included in its page. It is full of hope and appropriate for readers of all ages.

This book is full of dangerous ideas, especially if you're a church-goer. The religion being taught nowadays is not the same one you'll find in this book. What happened from then to now? Maybe greed got the best of what used to be a pious and moral people. I feel that the brand of religion in this book, untainted as it is, as comprehnsive and logical as it is, in it's purest and actual form, is an improvement on the one you may be indoctrinated with by misinformation feeding preachers. Oh yeah, the illustrations are breathtaking, too. This book is just screaming "buy me!"

Okay people. Fess up. If a teacher tells all the kids in her class that they are now doing projects on famous Canadians and that everyone has to come back with at least one great Canadian hero, what biography would you hand them? Hm? Yeah, see, that's what I thought. You can't think of any great biographies of Canadian heroes off the top of your head (and no, Paul Bunyan doesn't count). The fact of the matter is that Americans know so very little about their neighbor to the North that they hardly ever fret such matters. And truth be told, your child may never be given this assignment. But what if they were? And what if you knew of this super-cool graphic novel style picture book biography about (not to put too fine a point on it), "The Strongest Man In the World"? How cool would that make you? Well sit back and relax, puffins, cause here I hand to you a gem of a book. Chronicling the life of Louis Cyr and written by Canadian/Frenchman Nicolas Debon, this is not your average tale of strength and daring-do. It has heart. It has soul. It has facts. What more could a person wish for then?

Emiliana is worried about her father, and she has every right to be. It's the early 20th century and he has just been told by the doctor that he must retire from public life. And maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but her papa's not just any man. He's Louis Cyr, a strongman of great fame and fortune. Owner and creator of the Louis Cyr Circus, Emiliana's father reminisces with his daughter over his long and remarkable life. Readers see his early days, when he was coached by a grandfather convinced that his grandson would be strong since, "In this tough world of ours, a man without strength is nothing." Then at seventeen he lifted an imported French drayhorse in a contest and his life's work began. Debon sketches out Cyr's years, taking into account various challenges and meaningful moments in his life. We see food contests, a brief stint as a policeman, and finally the European tour that allowed him to follow his dream to start a circus of his own. In the end he must quit the circus life, but as Louis himself says as he leaves, "I've been called the strongest man in the world, and one day somebody else will be even stronger... But maybe the strongest of all is the man who knows how to leave what he has loved with no regret." An Afterword contains photographs and facts on the real Louis Cyr and there is a section of Further Information that includes books for supplemental reading.

Debon cleverly uses the character of Emiliana to bring up various rumors associated with Cyr's life that are deftly put down from time to time. I suspect that in Canada such rumors would be better known than here in the states, but it's fun to hear them just the same. Did he really carry off six bandits to jail all at once? No, probably more like one or two. Did he lift a horse when he was just a kid? Not at all. He was seventeen at the time. I was much impressed with the writing in this book, alongside Debon's sense of storytelling. Essentially, what we have here is one great big flashback. But rather than feeling stilted or herky-jerky, the text flows from Cyr's memories of the life he has led. Coming to the conclusion, you get a real sense that this man did exactly what he set out to accomplish. I couldn't help but hope for a Timeline in the back, of course. The Afterword really only touches on some of the aspects of Cyr's life. We don't know why he died or what of. I did find the photographs of him very interesting, as well as the mention that "Remarkably, despite dramatic improvements in strength training and lifting techniques, some of his records remain unequalled to this day." Still, it would have been nice to hear which records those were.

Imagine a French Raymond Briggs and you get a sense of what Debon's style resembles. The illustrations here are painted with thick earth-tones. Lots of browns, peaches, and blues are at work. The endpapers of this book display multiple acts that would have performed with Cyr during the height of his circus days. I was particularly taken with John Callahan, described as, "the funniest Clown in the Universe", though he looks anything but. The graphic novel style works within the story Debon is trying to tell. At first I was suspicious of the format, fearing that Debon would rely too heavily on the style rather than the substance of his subject. However, the visual style works within the context of Cyr's tale. If Louis Cyr was larger than life then it only seems fair that a picture book biography should find a technique that conveys all the drama and action of his life from start to finish.

I do wish that a little more time and attention could have been given over to Debon's sources, to say nothing of the inclusion of a Timeline. Still, as new biographies go, "The Strongest Man In the World", certainly does its darndest to pack a wallop. Infinitely readable and engaging, it'll have kids all the more interested to learn about early 20th century circus life, and the feats of one man in particular. An engaging, unique little creation.

Structuring Drama Work is both a deliciously practical and a tacitly theoretical handbook for teachers/leaders of drama. This is no small feat for a book that is only eighty-four pages in length. Neeland's book deftly examines the infinitely important notion of the structures and conventions used when teaching, facilitating and learning through theatre/drama; while it concurrently argues for the need for flexibility when designing for and working with students of theatre/drama. David Booth sums up the concept of theatre explored in this book when he describes the author's view of theatre as, "a meaning-making endeavour that interprets life and helps us to understand our world" (P.1). The strength of this book is that it does not get bogged down by such an ambiguous or esoteric definition; rather, it uses this definition to elucidate the potential power of drama in each of the lives of those who choose to suspend their disbeliefs (P.72) and participate in the collective endeavour of theatre. Most of the book is a compilation of current conventions applied in drama/theatre and used to enhance the educative process of expressing the world through symbolic form. Context-building, narrative, poetic and reflective conventions are explored in detail; they range from simple games to tableau to complex conventions like whole-group role-playing. Rather than focus on examples ad infinitum, Neeland focuses on the description, cultural connections and learning opportunities of each convention. This is where the power of the book is located; teachers, rather than just mimicking rote exercises, are given the reasons for the use of the convention and appropriate times to employ it. This fulfills an absolute requirement of teaching: the ability to answer the students' legitimate question of "Why are we doing this?!?". On page seventy-nine there is a diagram that clearly illustrates the purpose of the conventions described. My initial response was that I would give this diagram to my students; however, on page eighty-two Neeland writes, "To be too definite and clear about the intentions and focus of the work in advance is to deny the students the power and experience of being artists." Neeland is arguing here that the power of the Gestalt or "Aha!" component of learning should not be too quickly dismissed. My feeling now is that I would let the needs of the group I was working with dictate whether or not to reveal the purpose of the unit to them. I believe this is in line with Neeland's tacit theory, that the needs of the group supersedes the needs of the program or the teacher. The teachers who employs Neeland's methods, over time, will likely learn to wed teaching the conventional structures of drama to the spontaneous needs of the students. Neeland's adoption of the female form of the third person pronoun and his use of the term "teacher/leader" demonstrates, I believe, his implicit subversion of the current pedagogical patriarchal paradigm. Neeland appears to be undermining the role of the teacher as the repository of Truth. His examples are wonderfully open-ended and he appears to be encouraging teachers to employ both conventions and there own examples according to the needs of the students. His theoretical approach can be glimpsed through instructions like, "... whereas well-researched context-building action and the controlled pace of reflective action may produce challenges to assumptions and prejudices." (P.74). This is an invaluable book both as an easy to use reference of theatrical/dramatic conventions and as a reminder of the endless and fruitful possibilities of learning through theatre.

I seldom read literary criticism, just because I'm lazy, and like the fiction itself more, but this book is that rare thing, a piece of criticism that enlightens rather than obscures. Although De La Durantaye is occasionally self-indulgent--spending a half-page too much on the title of Pale Fire, for example--most of the book is admirably direct and on-topic. Side issues, like Nabokov's extreme dislike of Freudianism, are delightful extras. For readers who like Lolita, but feel uncomfortable about liking it; or for any devoted lover of V. Nabokov's works, because De La Durantaye's comments illuminate them all.

Peers' does an excellent job in this endeavor of combining ecclesiastical texts with images. Much of the book poses the problem of how one represents an angel: a bodiless form. Since this was the foundation of the assault against images during Iconoclasm, Peers' framing of the problem within a specific context (the representation of angels) helps the reader see the implications of icon theory, both for and against. This is an excellent take on the problem of Byzantine image theory.

Here is an academic book that anyone interested in language, literature, and cinema should love. Beautifully written (as few academic books are), it applies the cultural criticism of Russian writer Mikhail Bakhtin to a diverse selection of novels and films, but most notably to those from Brazil. It is a match made in heaven, because both Bakhtin and Brazil believe in carnival (the joyful festivities that take place just before Lent, known in the States as Mardi Gras) and the carnivalesque (where rules are suspended, the oppressed take center stage, the powerful are mocked, and the body is celebrated). Stam begins by providing a clear and thorough overview of Bakhtin's precepts and terminology (dialogism, chronotope, heteroglossia), showing how his writing can fill in the gaps left by other theories and illuminate both artistic texts and everyday life. He then moves on to discuss the conjunction between Bakhtin and film theory specifically, providing elegant analyses of Bunuel's "Exterminating Angel," Godard's "Two or Three Things I Know About Her," Welles's unfinished "It's All True" (much of which was shot in Brazil), Brazilian classics such as "Macunaima," and "Mar das Rosas/Sea of Roses." and several others. Along the way, he takes in such issues as the grotesque and magical body, the subversive as well as the pleasurable potential of carnival, the uses of cannibalism, and cinematic eroticism. This wide-ranging study takes in everything from music (by Brazilian composers Caetano Veloso and Chico Buarque, plus rap) to the influence of the Yiddish theater on Woody Allen's "Zelig." An outstanding book that's a delight to read.

The insights given in this book should be of interest to anyone who has ever wondered how we as human beings try to make meaning out of our suffering. The scope of the book is sweeping, and its message compelling. What lies beyond words in both literature and lived experience cannot be addressed with simplistic, redemptive narratives, and yet must be analyzed in its autonomy. This book is something every thinking person should have on the shelf!

This book is especially recommended for theatre lovers and constitutes an essential contribution to the history of women in the US during the twentieth-century. Following Virginia Woolf, Barbara Ozieblo has as her goal to "capture" Glaspell's personality, but the results go far beyond this original purpose. Seduced by a brilliantly polished, engaging narrative, the reader is presented with a new perspective on the development of American theatre in the first half of the twentieth century by means of a smooth movement between identification with Glaspell and a fine and suggestive analysis of her writings.

For the theatre critic / lover, the most relevant dimension of Susan Glaspell's life is her involvement in the creation of the Provincetown Players, either as promoter, actress or playwright. In this regard, a new focus on her standpoint is worth considering, being both protagonist and witness in the development of George Cram Cook's visionary efforts. No doubt, her point of view enables a more accurate, fresher account of the true nature and evolution of Cook's relationship with Eugene O'Neill.

The reader becomes Glaspell herself while witnessing this crucial part in twentieth-century American drama. The implication is that, from her position between external spectator and measured participant, we can reach a more suitable evaluation of the Provincetown Players' contribution to US theatre. This fact is accounted for by the author's decisiveness at drawing consistent conclusions at the right time within the narrative.

An outstanding student and vocational writer, Glaspell also offers an invaluable personal story of abnegation and endurance. The chapter devoted to Cook's final days in Greece does justice to her position as committed wife and sacrificed woman. Here we have an example of a woman's ambivalent role regarding the rules imposed by the society of the time. The main question is whether Glaspell would have utilized her talents in a better way without the burdens imposed by marriage. However, the narrative efficiently locates us within Glaspell's persona, and her constant sufferings caused by her true love for Cook, indeed a demanding and dependent dreamer.

Finally, Glaspell's life as a widow back in the US becomes an example of the unrewarding, sometimes miserable life of twentieth-century women involved in the artistic sphere. Recognized writer, Pulitzer-prize winner and generous mentor, Glaspell keeps on being "too" generous, especially in her relationships with men, and for most of her life remains a solitary individual whose loneliness is only alleviated by the company of her friends and animals and, ultimately, her love for the theatre.

It is precisely this love for the theatre that this excellent biography transfers to the reader, no matter what background, interests or motivations he or she have. Bored with annoying biographies trying to make up silly stories about the hollow lives of any writer or celebrity, this book becomes a fresh, invigorating breeze for both the critic and the general reader.