Finally, I’ve finished reading “Whirlwind,” the sixth and last book in James Clavell’s great Asian saga. Containing more than 1,200 pages, “Whirlwind,” like the other books in the saga (except King Rat), is also a “heavy” read with many interweaving subplots.
I’ve been reading the book since last week, and I just finished it the other night. I could have finished it long ago, but I decided to read the book leisurely so I could prolong the pleasure of Mr. Clavell’s company.
I love to do a comprehensive review of all of JC’s books because I’ve learned a lot from them but it’s not possible at the moment because the other books are with Dad. So for the time being, I’ll just focus on Whirlwind.
With some elements of espionage and religious issues, “Whirlwind” is a story of violence, deception, betrayal and great love at a time when men and women, young and old, had to barter for their lives in their desperation to survive heartbreaking odds. Set in Iran between February 9 and March 4, 1979 during the civil war, the story depicts a time when to trust is to risk your life and that of your loved ones, and deceit is the name of the game.
It all started when the Iranian government was toppled by the revolutionaries, which were composed of people and groups from different political (and even religious) affiliations. With the crumbling of the government, the struggle of the different factions of the revolutionaries to gain power over another started, hence the beginning of a civil war highlighted by summary executions of those perceived, rightly or wrongly, as pro-old government and therefore anti-new regime. During this period, brutal acts were committed by people and groups blinded by their twisted interpretations of Islam.
Trapped in this internal conflict is a British aviation company and its multiracial team of pilots and mechanics. As the old government crumbled, life became hellish for these foreigners. The new regime and most of the Iranians believed that the Americans are the personifications of evil. And, although the other nationalities were treated a bit better than their American counterparts, all of the foreigners had their share of harassments from the Iranians who loathed everything foreign — foreign people, foreign ideas, foreign way of life. One pilot was kidnapped to fly his kidnappers so they could do “God’s work,” another was forced to illegally fly an Iranian official and his family to the country’s boarder, while the rest had been either shot at or harassed in the streets and in their homes or bases.
No one was safe, not even the Iranians, but the pilots would not leave the country. Billions of US dollars were at stake. They knew that if they left, their company would fold. At the same time, two of the foreign pilots were married to Iranian women whose families were rich and influential. But the women’s families, in the end, were more of a liability than help to the couples, because deep inside the other family members was a deep-seated loathing for the foreigners.
So as things changed from worse to worst, the foreigners eventually conceived an escape plan. Highly dangerous and beset with many difficulties, the plan was codenamed “Whirlwind.” The plan was simple: all pilots were to fly their respective planes (the 212s only; the 206s were to be left behind), including all foreign mechanics and some valuable spare parts out of Iran. But to do that, they would have to revert back their registration to British (the planes were Iran registered even if the Iran government hadn’t paid the planes yet), some of the pilots would have to overcome their captors/kidnappers, and outwit their ‘harrassers.’ On top of that, they would have to secure permit to fly (they couldn’t fly without permit) without rousing suspicion from the Iranians authorities, obtain their passports which had been confiscated, and make sure that they would not be arrested in their new host countries and extradited back to Iran. Moreover, the pilots who were married to locals also had a lot of score to settle with their wives’ families, especially because their wives couldn’t go back to the country if they left without papers.
Even with the multitude of what-ifs and obstacles, the pilots were all committed to put the plan into action, except the two who were married to Iranian women. The first wouldn’t leave because he wouldn’t leave his wife behind (though he helped his colleagues in the first leg of their escape), and the second was still trying to outwit and overcome his captors then save his wife at the time of the escape, and therefore did not know of the plan.
With all of its problems, the one sure thing that could make the plan fail is if one or two of the foreigners stayed behind because they would definitely be used as hostages by the new regime so the escapees would go back to the country.
So what to do? Read the book at find out.
Verdict
Even with just its convoluted plot, “Whirlwind” is already a very interesting read. But add to that the political, cultural and religious clashes that James Clavell deftly weaved into his novel and it becomes a must-read. I agree with The Washington Post Book World that “James Clavell does more than entertain… he transports us into worlds we’ve not known… drawing us into a grid of interlocking tales teeming with characters and sweating with action and surprise.”
On James Clavell’s Books
I find it hard to decide which of the books I like best because I love them all. I noticed something worth mentioning though. Where in Noble House, Gai-Jin, Taipan, and ShoGun, I learned a lot about the values, belief systems and thoughts of the host countries (Noble House – Hong Kong; Gai-Jin and Sho-Gun, Japan; and Taipan, China and Hong Kong), James Clavell seemed to have not positively appreciated the Iranian politics and culture. In “Whirlwind,” there was not a single positive Iranian trait he highlighted. Everything seemed negative — the Iranian characters’ twisted interpretations of Islam, their absurd “logic,” and their business ethics and traditions. The only thing that is positively portrayed is the Iranian women’s demonstration in which the women bravely renounced the wearing of chador and demanded that their right to vote be upheld.
But like his other novel, Whirlwind has the James Clavell signatures I so love — convoluted plot and his style of slowly unraveling “secrets” and important information as each chapter develops. Unlike most authors, JC does not wait until the end to reveal “secrets.” What keeps me gripping each of his book until the very end is not finding out the “what’s” or even “why’s” but the how’s”of the story — how the information and motives are going to affect the other characters and the circumstances; how the problems are going to be resolved; and so on. Then I come to the ending feeling like I’ve read several books in one — fiction, history, and sociology, among others.
Ah, James Clavell is definitely my favorite author of all times.
Some Asian Concepts and Glimpses
(Pre-lude to my Comprehensive Book Review)
One thing I like about JC is the strength of his characterization and how well he has captured the idiosyncrasies of the Asian culture. Below are some of the concepts I came across in his books:
Face. This concept is similar to our present concept of face, like when it is used in the phrase, “saving face.” But it seems that this concept has far greater significance in (old) Chinese than our present-day usage. As I understand it in JC’s books (Noble House and Taipan), one loses face when one fails to make another person do what he wants that person to do. Like in Noble House, when Casey spoke a perfect Cantonese to a Cantonese hotel boy (hoping that the Cantonese would be impressed that she learned a phrase of his language within 24 hours or that the Cantonese would perhaps teach her), the Chinese pretended not to understand Casey’s Cantonese, forcing Casey to switch to English. Which of course she did, making the Chinese feel triumphant for having successfully made Casey “lose face.”
One also loses face when one cannot do what he has said he would, even if what had been said was just a slip of the tongue. When one says he would do something, he must do so if he is to save his face, even if that something is ludicrous in the first place.
Joss. Someone was killed in a fire. Joss. You lost in a bet, joss. Someone meets an accident while walking on the street, joss. You missed your train, joss. I do not know how it could be translated to Philippine language, but it seems that joss means “it’s meant to happen.” The Chinese folks in the books (Taipan, Noble House) find it easy to accept bad circumstances because of joss.
This concept, if I am not mistaken, is similar to or the same as the Japanese concept of karma (as used in Sho-Gun and Gain-jin) and to the Iranian expression, “As God wants” (Whirlwind).
Samurais and Seppuku. One thing I loved about Gai-jin and Sho-gun is the glimpse I was able to get of the Samurai thinking and discipline. I find the concept of seppuku much too harsh a punishment for mistakes, and I also don’t like the fact that a samurai’s life and that of his family lie at the whims of his or her liege lord, but I appreciate the samurai tradition of creating death poems and writing or reciting very short poetry to pass the time. In Sho-gun and Gai-jin, I learned a lot about how a very short verse could be interpreted in so many ways.
On Sex. In all of James Clavell’s books, it was portrayed how Asians (Japanese, Chinese, Malay, and Iranians) talk openly of sex, how it is a natural part of living. I was so shocked to find out that it is the Caucasians who had lots of qualms about sex, that it is they who would squirm in their seats when their preferences are asked. (A teacher in high school mentioned this in class before — that Filipinos used to be very open about this topic, that discussing body parts and sex used to be just like talking about the weather.)
On Proper Hygiene. In JC’s books, especially in Taipan and Sho-gun, I learned that the whites used not to take a bath (nyehehehe). They used to think that taking a bath (or shower) makes one sick, so they do it only once a month. They also would not change their clothes, so they stank. Waaaa! In Tai-pan, the Whites learned to take a bath daily from the Chinese; in Sho-gun, the Caucasian hero, John Blackthorn, was forced to take a bath and to change everyday. Then, as he was becoming more accustomed to physical hygiene, he eventually realized that his comrades stank and that they were undisciplined
//Sherma E. Benosa
27 November 2007
Showing posts with label Books and Reads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books and Reads. Show all posts
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Sunday, September 30, 2007
'All that Matters': An Uplifting Read
A young woman who just attempted to end her life. Her father who did not only have time for his family, but actually turned his back on them in favor of his Hollywood career and a younger woman. Her Nana (grandmother) who would not give up on her granddaughter.
These are the three main characters in Jan Goldtein’s debut novel, All that Matters, a story of hope and redemption.
Jennifer Stempler felt she had no more open door to turn to. The love of her life left her, her mother died in a tragic car accident, and her producer father had a new wife and a new-born girl. No, she would not be missed. So she pursued oblivion on the beach near her home in Venice, California.
But oblivion, it did not come. When Jennifer opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the “worn and wrinkled face” of her Nana, the one person she was sure would be deeply hurt if she died; and the last person she wanted to see her in her present state.
But here she was, deeply caring and loving that soon, when Jennifer's choices were narrowed down into three: stay in a psychiatric institution, or stay with her father (whose new wife made it known they wouldn’t have time caring for a suicidal woman), or stay with her Nana, Jennifer chose the last, against her father’s will.
And, though at first she was oblivious to her Nana’s love, warmth, and determination, she was soon beginning to re-embrace life. But just as she was starting to trust, love, and hope again, her Nana dies. With her Nana gone, the challenge now for Jennifer was to keep going on.
Deeply moving, All that Matters shows that deep love truly can move mountains and help lost souls find their way again. It affirms that, indeed, there are doors that are always open for us; all we need to do is look. And that even those that are closed will open, if we only learn to knock.
Let me share some of the quotes in the book:
“Across the street Jennifer observed a driver trying in vain to park her SUV in a space half the size she needed. It was the story of her life. She simply couldn’t wedge herself into a space in life where circumstances out of her control had left her no room.”
Jennifer (looking at something through her camcorder): “You want to see the real world, you have to shut off all distractions. It’s a matter of focus. Most people only think they see what’s going on.”
Gabby (Jennifer’s Nana): “The world isn’t in that damn lens. You’re so busy focusing, only you’re missing everything that matters.”
“Gabby: This rock has seen many storms. Here it stands exposed to the elements, covered with the scars of its past. But one thing that always gave me comfort in coming here—it has not crumbled. It is still standing at the water’s edge, facing the wind and the sea and whatever the future will bring.”
“Sometimes the gifts come wrapped in pain and the other times they hit you smack-dab in the pain when you are totally unprepared.”
“Like the pages she had yet to fill in her journal and like the white surface of the ice beneath her, Jennifer could see her future, as her Nana had said, was intriguingly blank and full of possibilities. It was waiting for her to write it, to fill the pages of her tomorrows with the life she alone could create.”
"All that Matters" Abstract
These are the three main characters in Jan Goldtein’s debut novel, All that Matters, a story of hope and redemption.
Jennifer Stempler felt she had no more open door to turn to. The love of her life left her, her mother died in a tragic car accident, and her producer father had a new wife and a new-born girl. No, she would not be missed. So she pursued oblivion on the beach near her home in Venice, California.
But oblivion, it did not come. When Jennifer opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the “worn and wrinkled face” of her Nana, the one person she was sure would be deeply hurt if she died; and the last person she wanted to see her in her present state.
But here she was, deeply caring and loving that soon, when Jennifer's choices were narrowed down into three: stay in a psychiatric institution, or stay with her father (whose new wife made it known they wouldn’t have time caring for a suicidal woman), or stay with her Nana, Jennifer chose the last, against her father’s will.
And, though at first she was oblivious to her Nana’s love, warmth, and determination, she was soon beginning to re-embrace life. But just as she was starting to trust, love, and hope again, her Nana dies. With her Nana gone, the challenge now for Jennifer was to keep going on.
Deeply moving, All that Matters shows that deep love truly can move mountains and help lost souls find their way again. It affirms that, indeed, there are doors that are always open for us; all we need to do is look. And that even those that are closed will open, if we only learn to knock.
Let me share some of the quotes in the book:
“Across the street Jennifer observed a driver trying in vain to park her SUV in a space half the size she needed. It was the story of her life. She simply couldn’t wedge herself into a space in life where circumstances out of her control had left her no room.”
Jennifer (looking at something through her camcorder): “You want to see the real world, you have to shut off all distractions. It’s a matter of focus. Most people only think they see what’s going on.”
Gabby (Jennifer’s Nana): “The world isn’t in that damn lens. You’re so busy focusing, only you’re missing everything that matters.”
“Gabby: This rock has seen many storms. Here it stands exposed to the elements, covered with the scars of its past. But one thing that always gave me comfort in coming here—it has not crumbled. It is still standing at the water’s edge, facing the wind and the sea and whatever the future will bring.”
“Sometimes the gifts come wrapped in pain and the other times they hit you smack-dab in the pain when you are totally unprepared.”
“Like the pages she had yet to fill in her journal and like the white surface of the ice beneath her, Jennifer could see her future, as her Nana had said, was intriguingly blank and full of possibilities. It was waiting for her to write it, to fill the pages of her tomorrows with the life she alone could create.”
"All that Matters" Abstract
Monday, August 13, 2007
HARRY POTTER QUOTES
Muggles who just can't have enough of Harry Potter (like myself), here are a few quotes from the book we so love. Enjoy!
From Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Book I)
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” —Albus Dumbledore
“The truth… is a beautiful and terrible thing, and therefore should be treated with caution…” —Albus Dumbledore
“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, just as much to stand up to our friends.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” —Albus Dumbledore
From Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book II)
“It is our choices… that show what we are, far more than our abilities.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.” —Arthur Weasley
“The best of us must sometimes eat our words.” —Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book III)
“You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no....anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell.” —Remus Lupin
From Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
“If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” — Sirius Black
“I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.... At these times... I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Curiosity is not a sin.... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.” —Albus Dumbledore
“You place too much importance on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! —Albus Dumbledore
“It is my belief... that the truth is generally preferable to lies.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy… Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.” —Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix (Book V)
“The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.” —Severus Snape
“Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.” Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book VI)
“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” —Albus Dumbledore
“We must try not to sink beneath our anguish... but battle on.” — Albus Dumbledore.
“People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right. — Albus Dumbledore.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book VII)
Ron: “He [Dumbledore] must have known I’d run out on you.”
Harry: “No, he must have known you’d always want to come back.”
From Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Book I)
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” —Albus Dumbledore
“The truth… is a beautiful and terrible thing, and therefore should be treated with caution…” —Albus Dumbledore
“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, just as much to stand up to our friends.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” —Albus Dumbledore
From Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book II)
“It is our choices… that show what we are, far more than our abilities.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.” —Arthur Weasley
“The best of us must sometimes eat our words.” —Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book III)
“You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no....anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell.” —Remus Lupin
From Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
“If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” — Sirius Black
“I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.... At these times... I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Curiosity is not a sin.... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.” —Albus Dumbledore
“You place too much importance on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! —Albus Dumbledore
“It is my belief... that the truth is generally preferable to lies.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy… Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.” —Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix (Book V)
“The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.” —Severus Snape
“Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike.” —Albus Dumbledore
“Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.” Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book VI)
“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” —Albus Dumbledore
“We must try not to sink beneath our anguish... but battle on.” — Albus Dumbledore.
“People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right. — Albus Dumbledore.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book VII)
Ron: “He [Dumbledore] must have known I’d run out on you.”
Harry: “No, he must have known you’d always want to come back.”
Friday, January 19, 2007
Notes on Jean Jacques Rousseau's "Emile"
In gray font are some of the highlights of Jean Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy on education (Emile) as paraphrased by me. Following each main point are my notes/comments (pink font).
(Disclaimer: These are not the only highlights of the book; just the things I chose to comment on. This entry is based on the critique I submitted to my EDFD class, but it is not the actual text nor does it follow the actual format.)
Humans are naturally good, but somehow, in the course of their lives, they tend to depart from their nature. Hence, like plants, they must be cultivated through education; for without education, they will be trampled upon by social conditions.
I am also of the belief — which, I must admit, is spawned forth by religion — that everything created by God (the author) is by nature good; but somehow, as we live among our fellow human beings, we tend to pick up habits that make us very far removed from our natural state; that is, of goodness.
That like a young plant, man must be fashioned through education and that without education, man would be trampled upon by social conditions, I completely agree. Education does refine man and enhance the gifts with which he is endowed.
The education of humans comes from three masters — nature, through which our organs and faculties are developed; men, from whom we learn the use to make of our growth; and things, from which we gain our experiences of our surroundings. The teachings of these three masters should not conflict. If they do, the education of man will be jeopardized.
Rousseau’s concept of three masters is acceptable to me. We do learn from nature, from the people around us, and from our experiences. But for the teachings of these three masters to not ever conflict with each other — that I consider a question of what might be the ideal and what is the reality. It is next to impossible, I think, for these three to be always in agreement with each other.
The teachings of nature are beyond the control of man; but the teachings of man and of things are. Hence, the teacher must control those teachings that can be controlled so that they remain in accordance with the teachings of that which cannot be controlled. Likewise, the teacher must control those factors that present themselves to the child much too early, when the child is not yet ready for them; as well as those that corrupt the child and lead him away from his nature. He must keep everything that might hinder the child from getting proper education, but he must do so such that the child does not learn of his interference.
Rousseau espouses the idea that the teacher must control the environment in which he places his pupil. I think such idea is rather doubtful. For one, it would require a perfect teacher to do that; sadly, there is no such teacher. Second, even the things that are not from nature which he considers to be within the control of man most often do not succumb to anyone’s control. Third, the teacher controlling a student’s environment is just like a researcher conducting and controlling an experiment. To me, such environment is artificial. It simply does not exist in the real world.
The ideal form of teaching is one that adheres to man’s nature. Hence, children are best educated not in the city where they are exposed to elements that will rob them off their nature, but in the rural areas where they are most in touched with it.
For Rousseau, the best education takes place in rural area. Howver, even if his arguments were correct, such would fall under what I consider a matter of what is and what should be. You just cannot transport all the kids to the rural areas. Besides, there are types of knowledge rural children are better at than the city children (like their knowledge of plants, animals and other natural phenomena they are exposed to). But it can also not be denied that children in the city have better knowledge of other things, such as technology, than the rural children.
The best method of teaching is showing, rather than telling. Pupils are better taught if they are made to experience the things that they must learn (experiential learning). They are better off being allowed to discover the facts of life on their own (learning by discovery), rather than being taught about them. The teacher must encourage them to draw conclusions from their experiences, and not to rely on what authorities or experts say about such experiences.
I can see some semblance between present teaching methods and Rousseau’s point that the best method of teaching is showing rather than telling, and letting students learn by experience. There are now teaching theories that support experiential learning and learning by discovery. There is no question, I think, that such theories are effective. However, I also would not discredit the effectiveness of learning by instruction (Rousseau does). If I were a teacher, I would opt to integrate these three methods to teach my students; and if in some instances I favor one over the other, my decision to do so shall be based on what type of lesson I am giving the students.
The ideal form of teaching is in accordance with the pupil’s age. Children must be allowed to be children. They must be allowed to play, and should not be given lessons that are beyond what they are ready to take nor should they be introduced to concepts not within their grasp.
Human development is divided into five phases: infancy, (birth to two years), the age of nature, (two to 12 years), pre-adolescence (12 to 15 years), puberty, (15 to 20) and adulthood (20 to 25).
Education must start at birth, well before the child “can speak or understand he is learning.” During the infancy period, education focuses on (1) not letting the child “contract habits,” for habits interfere with the child’s nature; and (2) giving the child more liberty and less power. Children must be taught to be self-reliant, to “do more for themselves and to demand less of others.” Confining their wishes within the limits of their powers will make them not desire things that are beyond their power.
When children are already in the second stage of development, they are given only “negative education.” Children’s education at this stage focuses on their physical development, and on the use of their senses. Neither moral instruction nor verbal learning is given them. At this stage, the children’s faculties are not yet fully developed; hence it is best that their mind is left undisturbed.
The third stage of development is where the children’s strength increases faster than their needs. In no other stage of development is the children’s strength more abundant than in the third. It is at this period that learning takes a mental form, for they are now more capable of having a sustained attention.
At fifteen, the age at which the fourth stage of development begins, the children’s reason is already well developed. They are now able to deal with the emotions of adolescence as well as with religion and moral issues. Children this age may now enter into community life, but they must still hold back from societal pressures and influences.
The last and final stage, adulthood, signals the full development of humans. It is at this point that they are expected to be ready to deal with love and relationship (marriage) and to be ready to re-enter into the society.
At all stages of development, children must be taught to be independent and to not want things that are not within their power to provide for themselves. To not to rely on anyone but themselves being one of the main goals of their education, they must be safeguarded against the “seductive illusions” of the society. They must “not be seduced by too much learning, too much imaginative literature or art” for these might stir in them wants they cannot satisfy and lead them to become dependent. Practical knowledge of things that are directly relevant is preferable to insatiable pursuits of wisdom of which they do not have any need. Rather than endeavoring in such pursuits, children should focus instead on the practical aspects of things. Likewise, they must veer away from human interactions, except in instances where the people they are to interact with are rehearsed players in a planned environment.
That children must be allowed to be children and that they must be taught according to their level, I completely agree. Like Rousseau, I too believe that children must not be rushed to learn things they would eventually learn. However, I disagree with Rousseau that such activities as singing to children, reading to them, guiding them to walk, and guiding them to speak are forms of rushing children to learn. There are now studies showing that babies, even while they are in their mother’s wombs, are able to recognize voices and are picking up from the things in their mother’s surroundings. These studies show that introducing activities previously thought to be too high or too advance for children does not have negative impact on the children’s development; that, on the contrary, doing so facilitates the children’s learning.
My idea of teaching children according to their level is different from Rousseau’s. He would not facilitate learning of the things he says will be learnt by the child eventually, I would. He would not read to the child, I would. For me, doing so is not rushing the child to learn; it is providing him the things he might already be capable of picking up.
Rousseau’s program of education, which involves classifying activities and then deciding which of them are suitable for each stage of human development, (i.e., affective learning for the first stage; sense-focused lessons on the second stage) — of this I am not comfortable. I would rather adhere to the present educational system, where all types of learning are taught in each of the stages of development; only, they are taught gradually. Lessons are prepared such that children are taught the same concepts but the method and language of instruction differ in complexity (depending on the children’s level).
I am also not comfortable with Rousseau’s decision not to give children the gift of literary and art appreciation. As a struggling writer, I derive profound happiness and satisfaction from reading and creating literary works. I pity a child denied that kind of experience, especially if such child would have had the talent to create works of art had his talent been nurtured.
And while I agree that practical knowledge is very important for it is that form of knowledge that would help the children go through life as they grow older, I also would not dream of denying them the chance to pursue higher thinking if they are so inclined. (I will always say NO to mediocrity.)
On the whole, I would say that Rousseau’s idea of proper education is far removed from what is achievable. It is too “ideal.” As a manual on child rearing and teaching, his treatise is definitely impossible and impractical. The conditions one needs to create one Emile are beyond what one teacher — even the perfect one — can provide.
However, Rousseau’s treatise must not be completely ignored, either. There are points in the book which we can adapt to better teach our children. The idea of learning by discovery and by experience is one good example. Another is the idea of a child-centered learning, which now has good theories supporting its effectiveness and “superiority” over other methods.
(Disclaimer: These are not the only highlights of the book; just the things I chose to comment on. This entry is based on the critique I submitted to my EDFD class, but it is not the actual text nor does it follow the actual format.)
Humans are naturally good, but somehow, in the course of their lives, they tend to depart from their nature. Hence, like plants, they must be cultivated through education; for without education, they will be trampled upon by social conditions.
I am also of the belief — which, I must admit, is spawned forth by religion — that everything created by God (the author) is by nature good; but somehow, as we live among our fellow human beings, we tend to pick up habits that make us very far removed from our natural state; that is, of goodness.
That like a young plant, man must be fashioned through education and that without education, man would be trampled upon by social conditions, I completely agree. Education does refine man and enhance the gifts with which he is endowed.
The education of humans comes from three masters — nature, through which our organs and faculties are developed; men, from whom we learn the use to make of our growth; and things, from which we gain our experiences of our surroundings. The teachings of these three masters should not conflict. If they do, the education of man will be jeopardized.
Rousseau’s concept of three masters is acceptable to me. We do learn from nature, from the people around us, and from our experiences. But for the teachings of these three masters to not ever conflict with each other — that I consider a question of what might be the ideal and what is the reality. It is next to impossible, I think, for these three to be always in agreement with each other.
The teachings of nature are beyond the control of man; but the teachings of man and of things are. Hence, the teacher must control those teachings that can be controlled so that they remain in accordance with the teachings of that which cannot be controlled. Likewise, the teacher must control those factors that present themselves to the child much too early, when the child is not yet ready for them; as well as those that corrupt the child and lead him away from his nature. He must keep everything that might hinder the child from getting proper education, but he must do so such that the child does not learn of his interference.
Rousseau espouses the idea that the teacher must control the environment in which he places his pupil. I think such idea is rather doubtful. For one, it would require a perfect teacher to do that; sadly, there is no such teacher. Second, even the things that are not from nature which he considers to be within the control of man most often do not succumb to anyone’s control. Third, the teacher controlling a student’s environment is just like a researcher conducting and controlling an experiment. To me, such environment is artificial. It simply does not exist in the real world.
The ideal form of teaching is one that adheres to man’s nature. Hence, children are best educated not in the city where they are exposed to elements that will rob them off their nature, but in the rural areas where they are most in touched with it.
For Rousseau, the best education takes place in rural area. Howver, even if his arguments were correct, such would fall under what I consider a matter of what is and what should be. You just cannot transport all the kids to the rural areas. Besides, there are types of knowledge rural children are better at than the city children (like their knowledge of plants, animals and other natural phenomena they are exposed to). But it can also not be denied that children in the city have better knowledge of other things, such as technology, than the rural children.
The best method of teaching is showing, rather than telling. Pupils are better taught if they are made to experience the things that they must learn (experiential learning). They are better off being allowed to discover the facts of life on their own (learning by discovery), rather than being taught about them. The teacher must encourage them to draw conclusions from their experiences, and not to rely on what authorities or experts say about such experiences.
I can see some semblance between present teaching methods and Rousseau’s point that the best method of teaching is showing rather than telling, and letting students learn by experience. There are now teaching theories that support experiential learning and learning by discovery. There is no question, I think, that such theories are effective. However, I also would not discredit the effectiveness of learning by instruction (Rousseau does). If I were a teacher, I would opt to integrate these three methods to teach my students; and if in some instances I favor one over the other, my decision to do so shall be based on what type of lesson I am giving the students.
The ideal form of teaching is in accordance with the pupil’s age. Children must be allowed to be children. They must be allowed to play, and should not be given lessons that are beyond what they are ready to take nor should they be introduced to concepts not within their grasp.
Human development is divided into five phases: infancy, (birth to two years), the age of nature, (two to 12 years), pre-adolescence (12 to 15 years), puberty, (15 to 20) and adulthood (20 to 25).
Education must start at birth, well before the child “can speak or understand he is learning.” During the infancy period, education focuses on (1) not letting the child “contract habits,” for habits interfere with the child’s nature; and (2) giving the child more liberty and less power. Children must be taught to be self-reliant, to “do more for themselves and to demand less of others.” Confining their wishes within the limits of their powers will make them not desire things that are beyond their power.
When children are already in the second stage of development, they are given only “negative education.” Children’s education at this stage focuses on their physical development, and on the use of their senses. Neither moral instruction nor verbal learning is given them. At this stage, the children’s faculties are not yet fully developed; hence it is best that their mind is left undisturbed.
The third stage of development is where the children’s strength increases faster than their needs. In no other stage of development is the children’s strength more abundant than in the third. It is at this period that learning takes a mental form, for they are now more capable of having a sustained attention.
At fifteen, the age at which the fourth stage of development begins, the children’s reason is already well developed. They are now able to deal with the emotions of adolescence as well as with religion and moral issues. Children this age may now enter into community life, but they must still hold back from societal pressures and influences.
The last and final stage, adulthood, signals the full development of humans. It is at this point that they are expected to be ready to deal with love and relationship (marriage) and to be ready to re-enter into the society.
At all stages of development, children must be taught to be independent and to not want things that are not within their power to provide for themselves. To not to rely on anyone but themselves being one of the main goals of their education, they must be safeguarded against the “seductive illusions” of the society. They must “not be seduced by too much learning, too much imaginative literature or art” for these might stir in them wants they cannot satisfy and lead them to become dependent. Practical knowledge of things that are directly relevant is preferable to insatiable pursuits of wisdom of which they do not have any need. Rather than endeavoring in such pursuits, children should focus instead on the practical aspects of things. Likewise, they must veer away from human interactions, except in instances where the people they are to interact with are rehearsed players in a planned environment.
That children must be allowed to be children and that they must be taught according to their level, I completely agree. Like Rousseau, I too believe that children must not be rushed to learn things they would eventually learn. However, I disagree with Rousseau that such activities as singing to children, reading to them, guiding them to walk, and guiding them to speak are forms of rushing children to learn. There are now studies showing that babies, even while they are in their mother’s wombs, are able to recognize voices and are picking up from the things in their mother’s surroundings. These studies show that introducing activities previously thought to be too high or too advance for children does not have negative impact on the children’s development; that, on the contrary, doing so facilitates the children’s learning.
My idea of teaching children according to their level is different from Rousseau’s. He would not facilitate learning of the things he says will be learnt by the child eventually, I would. He would not read to the child, I would. For me, doing so is not rushing the child to learn; it is providing him the things he might already be capable of picking up.
Rousseau’s program of education, which involves classifying activities and then deciding which of them are suitable for each stage of human development, (i.e., affective learning for the first stage; sense-focused lessons on the second stage) — of this I am not comfortable. I would rather adhere to the present educational system, where all types of learning are taught in each of the stages of development; only, they are taught gradually. Lessons are prepared such that children are taught the same concepts but the method and language of instruction differ in complexity (depending on the children’s level).
I am also not comfortable with Rousseau’s decision not to give children the gift of literary and art appreciation. As a struggling writer, I derive profound happiness and satisfaction from reading and creating literary works. I pity a child denied that kind of experience, especially if such child would have had the talent to create works of art had his talent been nurtured.
And while I agree that practical knowledge is very important for it is that form of knowledge that would help the children go through life as they grow older, I also would not dream of denying them the chance to pursue higher thinking if they are so inclined. (I will always say NO to mediocrity.)
On the whole, I would say that Rousseau’s idea of proper education is far removed from what is achievable. It is too “ideal.” As a manual on child rearing and teaching, his treatise is definitely impossible and impractical. The conditions one needs to create one Emile are beyond what one teacher — even the perfect one — can provide.
However, Rousseau’s treatise must not be completely ignored, either. There are points in the book which we can adapt to better teach our children. The idea of learning by discovery and by experience is one good example. Another is the idea of a child-centered learning, which now has good theories supporting its effectiveness and “superiority” over other methods.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Richard Paul Evans on RD’s cover
The Reader’s Digest issue* I’m talking about is six years old, but I don’t mind. On its cover is one of my 
favorite contemporary writers — Richard Paul Evans, the author of three** of my favorite books: The Looking Glass, Timepiece, and The Locket.
On RPE’s works
Almost romance (but not the shallow kind silly young girls love to read) and somewhat inspirational, Mr. Evans’ works show his deep understanding of and respect for the human soul. Providing insights into the depths of humanity — the struggles and pains that plague it, the hopes and dreams that keep it going, and the joys and thrills that provide its deliverance from its hell — Mr. Evans’ works appeal both to the emotion and to the mind, and thug even at a harden man’s heart. His novels are the kind of work I love to read; and his themes, the kind which, for years, I’ve been hoping and struggling to be sensitive and wise enough to explore in my writings.
I’ve read quite a lot of books, but none has affected me as much as Mr. Evans’ works had. No other lines had come back to my mind as frequently and as readily as those I’ve encountered in his books. Several of his characters, though ordinary people, had even played the role of an adviser or grandparent in my mind, giving me a piece of their thoughts. Let me quote some (I will add more quotes when I have the books with me):
"Imagine a ship trying to set sail while towing an anchor. Cutting free is not a gift to the anchor. You must release that burden, not because the anchor is worthy, but because the ship is." — Esther Huish to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when Michael told Esther that he can never forgive his alcoholic father who abandoned him and his mother when his father was still alive.
"I love you, not for the things you have, or even what you might have or might become someday--but because of who you are right now and how you make me feel. I love the goodness of your heart. I have friends who have married rich boys with poor hearts and I pity them, in their new cars and big new homes, for all their poverty." — Faye Murrow to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when the latter was worried that he was so poor and had nothing to offer Faye, who was a rich doctor's daughter.
Another thing I love about Mr. Evans’ books are the diary entries of his characters with which he starts each chapter. Let me quote a few (again, I’ll add some more when I can):
“Rarely do we invest the time to open the book of another’s life. When we do, we are usually surprised to find its cover misleading and its reviews so flawed.” — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel
“I have come to believe that the defining moments of most lives are not the acts of courage or greatness; rather, they are the simple acts: expression of virtue or vice that are tossed carelessly like seeds from a farmer’s hand, leaving their fruits to be revealed at a future date. But not always. There are moments that are like some cosmic examinations. And like all examinations, there are those who pass and those who fail. — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel
"There are times that I have been tempted to protect my heart from further disappointment with cynicism...But it would be like poisoning oneself to avoid being murdered." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket
"The most difficult of decisions are often not the ones in which we cannot determine the correct course, rather the ones in which we are certain of the path but fear the journey." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket
On the RD article on RPE
As I read the piece on Mr. Evans written by Barbara Sande Dimmit, I felt I knew him. I am glad to note that we have something in common: that is, writing for our loved ones and presenting our creations to them as gifts. Dimmit writes that Mr. Evans' first novel, The Christmas Box, was written out of his love for his children. According to Dimmit, Mr. Evans thought that a book “written by him from the heart seemed the perfect gift.”
As for me, I’ve always thought that some of my better pieces are not among those that have been published; but those enjoyed only by the people for whom they were written and to whom they were presented as a gift. I often spend hours and sleepless nights writing a piece especially for someone whom I care about, and it’s such a great joy for me to know that the recipient of my creation treasures my gift; more so when he or she is affected by it. In fact, it was by writing for my family and friends that I realized I can write. When my dad told me I can, I didn’t believe him (I thought he was just blinded by his love for me). But when I realized that my "readers" are affected by my writings, I started asking myself, can I really write?
* I bought the RD last night from Books for Less when I saw RPE on the cover. That was after I decided not to buy a copy of his book which I have not yet read because I thought it was overpriced at second-hand. I think it’s only 60 pesos cheaper than the brand new version. I thought it wasn’t a good deal (kuripot, he he).
** Besides the titles I mentioned, RPE has also authored other books, including The Christmas Box, A Perfect Day, The Letter, and The Carousel.
favorite contemporary writers — Richard Paul Evans, the author of three** of my favorite books: The Looking Glass, Timepiece, and The Locket.On RPE’s works
Almost romance (but not the shallow kind silly young girls love to read) and somewhat inspirational, Mr. Evans’ works show his deep understanding of and respect for the human soul. Providing insights into the depths of humanity — the struggles and pains that plague it, the hopes and dreams that keep it going, and the joys and thrills that provide its deliverance from its hell — Mr. Evans’ works appeal both to the emotion and to the mind, and thug even at a harden man’s heart. His novels are the kind of work I love to read; and his themes, the kind which, for years, I’ve been hoping and struggling to be sensitive and wise enough to explore in my writings.
I’ve read quite a lot of books, but none has affected me as much as Mr. Evans’ works had. No other lines had come back to my mind as frequently and as readily as those I’ve encountered in his books. Several of his characters, though ordinary people, had even played the role of an adviser or grandparent in my mind, giving me a piece of their thoughts. Let me quote some (I will add more quotes when I have the books with me):
"Imagine a ship trying to set sail while towing an anchor. Cutting free is not a gift to the anchor. You must release that burden, not because the anchor is worthy, but because the ship is." — Esther Huish to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when Michael told Esther that he can never forgive his alcoholic father who abandoned him and his mother when his father was still alive.
"I love you, not for the things you have, or even what you might have or might become someday--but because of who you are right now and how you make me feel. I love the goodness of your heart. I have friends who have married rich boys with poor hearts and I pity them, in their new cars and big new homes, for all their poverty." — Faye Murrow to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when the latter was worried that he was so poor and had nothing to offer Faye, who was a rich doctor's daughter.
Another thing I love about Mr. Evans’ books are the diary entries of his characters with which he starts each chapter. Let me quote a few (again, I’ll add some more when I can):
“Rarely do we invest the time to open the book of another’s life. When we do, we are usually surprised to find its cover misleading and its reviews so flawed.” — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel
“I have come to believe that the defining moments of most lives are not the acts of courage or greatness; rather, they are the simple acts: expression of virtue or vice that are tossed carelessly like seeds from a farmer’s hand, leaving their fruits to be revealed at a future date. But not always. There are moments that are like some cosmic examinations. And like all examinations, there are those who pass and those who fail. — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel
"There are times that I have been tempted to protect my heart from further disappointment with cynicism...But it would be like poisoning oneself to avoid being murdered." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket
"At times, hearts are the most traitorous of devices. They tumble headlong and blindly toward obvious dangers while they obstinately protect us from that which would likely do us the most good." — Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass
"I have learned a great truth of life. We do not succeed in spite of our challenges and difficulties, but rather, precisely because of them. — Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass
"I have made a grave mistake. I have carelessly handled a heart entrusted to mine. And in so doing I have broken both." —Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass"The most difficult of decisions are often not the ones in which we cannot determine the correct course, rather the ones in which we are certain of the path but fear the journey." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket
On the RD article on RPE
As I read the piece on Mr. Evans written by Barbara Sande Dimmit, I felt I knew him. I am glad to note that we have something in common: that is, writing for our loved ones and presenting our creations to them as gifts. Dimmit writes that Mr. Evans' first novel, The Christmas Box, was written out of his love for his children. According to Dimmit, Mr. Evans thought that a book “written by him from the heart seemed the perfect gift.”
As for me, I’ve always thought that some of my better pieces are not among those that have been published; but those enjoyed only by the people for whom they were written and to whom they were presented as a gift. I often spend hours and sleepless nights writing a piece especially for someone whom I care about, and it’s such a great joy for me to know that the recipient of my creation treasures my gift; more so when he or she is affected by it. In fact, it was by writing for my family and friends that I realized I can write. When my dad told me I can, I didn’t believe him (I thought he was just blinded by his love for me). But when I realized that my "readers" are affected by my writings, I started asking myself, can I really write?
* I bought the RD last night from Books for Less when I saw RPE on the cover. That was after I decided not to buy a copy of his book which I have not yet read because I thought it was overpriced at second-hand. I think it’s only 60 pesos cheaper than the brand new version. I thought it wasn’t a good deal (kuripot, he he).
** Besides the titles I mentioned, RPE has also authored other books, including The Christmas Box, A Perfect Day, The Letter, and The Carousel.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Classics and me: Changing my stand
In my February 8, 2006 post (The Challenge), I challenged myself to read eight classics, in addition to some non-classics I planned to finish this year. The challenge was for me to find out if I’d ever be able to stand classics, which I’d always labeled as boring, their language and themes being reflective of eras I can hardly relate to.
Eight classics after, here I am, ready to concede that my friends Salve and Tayns are right in thinking that classics do present interesting facets of the lives and events in the authors’ respective milieus.
Needless to say, I did enjoy my foray into the world of classical literature. I laughed at Tom Sawyer’s and Huckleberry Finn’s antics in Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; chuckled at Scout and Jem Finch’s frolics in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mocking Bird; emphatized with Oliver in Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist; wondered if indeed Pearl in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter was out of this world; flinched at Catherine and Heathcliff’s unapologetic brashness in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights; lived with the gods and goddesses in Edith Hamilton’s Mythology; and laughed at Pettrucio’s wit and got shattered by Katherine’s “taming” in Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew.
I got so engrossed in the challenge that I no longer simply borrow classic books from friends. I have started collecting. Just last night, I bought a copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. And yesterday afternoon, Ellen gave me a copy of Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing as a Christmas present.
So I am glad I made that challenge for myself. Not only was I able to conquer my “allergy” toward “Old English” but I also discovered a world beyond my turf. Now, I can say classics aren’t really so bad; thanks to Tayns and Salve for their encouragement. It took me quite some time before I got “infected” with their “afflictions,” but I’m glad I eventually managed to develop this “classic disorder.”
*One might ask how I fared in the non-classics. I am happy to say I was able to finish all the titles I listed — and more. I also enjoyed all the courtroom dramas in John Grisham’s The Pelican Brief, The Client, The Partner, The Chamber, The Runaway Jury and The Brethren; and a lot more (list to follow).
But while I did well in the non-classics and read most of the classics I dared require myself to finish, I must admit there were classic titles I failed to read: Jane Austen’s Emma and Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper simply because I don’t yet have a copy of said works; and Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, which I did try to read, but did not quite finish, it being a poem and poem being not a favorite read of mine. I also have a copy of Ferdinand Marcos’ The New Society (it was my mom’s and it's not in the list) but I did not even touch it, politics (which I hate) being its theme.
So I guess I both lost and won the challenge. And that means I can — and will — buy the white gold necklace I’ve been wanting for myself. That is, if it’s still there. As for treating my friends to lunch or dinner, I don’t think there would be any problem with that. Anyway, it's Christmas.
** Just in case there are those who are thinking that my claims — that I am very busy and that I have read all these things — are conflicting, here’s the explanation: I always bring a book wherever I go. I read while waiting, while cueing and while traveling. I am such an impatient person that I always need to be doing something, lest I’d be very annoyed, especially when the person I’m supposed to meet don’t come on time. So bringing a book with me is like shooting two birds with one stone — it lets me cope with my reading program and helps prevent my temper from flaring when someone doesn't come close to my expectations.
Eight classics after, here I am, ready to concede that my friends Salve and Tayns are right in thinking that classics do present interesting facets of the lives and events in the authors’ respective milieus.
Needless to say, I did enjoy my foray into the world of classical literature. I laughed at Tom Sawyer’s and Huckleberry Finn’s antics in Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; chuckled at Scout and Jem Finch’s frolics in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mocking Bird; emphatized with Oliver in Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist; wondered if indeed Pearl in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter was out of this world; flinched at Catherine and Heathcliff’s unapologetic brashness in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights; lived with the gods and goddesses in Edith Hamilton’s Mythology; and laughed at Pettrucio’s wit and got shattered by Katherine’s “taming” in Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew.
I got so engrossed in the challenge that I no longer simply borrow classic books from friends. I have started collecting. Just last night, I bought a copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. And yesterday afternoon, Ellen gave me a copy of Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing as a Christmas present.
So I am glad I made that challenge for myself. Not only was I able to conquer my “allergy” toward “Old English” but I also discovered a world beyond my turf. Now, I can say classics aren’t really so bad; thanks to Tayns and Salve for their encouragement. It took me quite some time before I got “infected” with their “afflictions,” but I’m glad I eventually managed to develop this “classic disorder.”
*One might ask how I fared in the non-classics. I am happy to say I was able to finish all the titles I listed — and more. I also enjoyed all the courtroom dramas in John Grisham’s The Pelican Brief, The Client, The Partner, The Chamber, The Runaway Jury and The Brethren; and a lot more (list to follow).
But while I did well in the non-classics and read most of the classics I dared require myself to finish, I must admit there were classic titles I failed to read: Jane Austen’s Emma and Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper simply because I don’t yet have a copy of said works; and Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, which I did try to read, but did not quite finish, it being a poem and poem being not a favorite read of mine. I also have a copy of Ferdinand Marcos’ The New Society (it was my mom’s and it's not in the list) but I did not even touch it, politics (which I hate) being its theme.
So I guess I both lost and won the challenge. And that means I can — and will — buy the white gold necklace I’ve been wanting for myself. That is, if it’s still there. As for treating my friends to lunch or dinner, I don’t think there would be any problem with that. Anyway, it's Christmas.
** Just in case there are those who are thinking that my claims — that I am very busy and that I have read all these things — are conflicting, here’s the explanation: I always bring a book wherever I go. I read while waiting, while cueing and while traveling. I am such an impatient person that I always need to be doing something, lest I’d be very annoyed, especially when the person I’m supposed to meet don’t come on time. So bringing a book with me is like shooting two birds with one stone — it lets me cope with my reading program and helps prevent my temper from flaring when someone doesn't come close to my expectations.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew:
The economics of marriage
and the society's influence on happiness
The shrew…
She was a woman who knew her mind and enjoyed speaking it out. Meek and submissive, she was neither. Her tongue was good at stringing spiteful words; and her mind, as her tongue, was sharp and not easily matched nor bent.
The 21st century would love her and believe in her. Inspired by her, it would teach its sons to respect and admire her, and its daughters to emulate her. Independent and tough, she would be called, and both words would carry a ring of veneration and amazement to them.
But unfortunate, Katherine likewise was, for she was made to live 400 years much too early — at a time not a bit tolerant of her nature, in a story that is sympathetic of her yet intolerant of her ways.
She was an outcast of the society she despised. Everyone likeneed her to an animal to be tamed; and people referred to her as a shrew, and was invariably described as “too rough” (I.i.55) and “stark mad” (I.i.69).
Yet, in retrospect, she might simply be misunderstood by everyone around her — her father who seemed to love her sister more, and the less-witted men that surrounded her.
… and the tamer…
Had he lived today, when the two sexes are viewed as different but equal, he would be deemed egotistical and portentous. A man to be revered, he was not — now, or 400 years ago — with his crass behavior and overbearing attitude, and his not-quite-honorable intentions: first, to marry a wealthy woman to augment his inheritance:
Signor Hortensio, ‘twixt such friends as we
Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruccio’s wife—
As wealth is burden of my wooing dance—
Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love,
As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates’ Xanthippe or a worse,
She moves me not—or not removes at least
Affection’s edge in me, were she as rough
As are the swelling Adriatic seas.
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;
If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
(I.ii.62–73)
then, somehow challenged by reports of the rich man’s daughter’s (Katherine’s) shrewish behavior, to tame her and turn her to a suitable wife.
Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Petruccio: My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Quick-witted he was though, and that proved to be enough to make Katherine submit to his will.
… together…
Their first meeting was hostile, as was the norm with Katherine; and soon they engaged in verbal duel:
Petruccio: Come, come, you wasp, i’faith you are too angry.
Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Petruccio: My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.
Petruccio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.
Katherine: In his tongue.
Petruccio: Whose tongue?
Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.
Petruccio: What, with my tongue in your tail?
(II.i.207–214)
with Katherine throwing insult after insult, and Petruccio turning each of her slurs into sexual innuendo which frustrated her and, at the same time, somehow won her over; or at least, silenced her.
…in a story that made me roar with laughter…
Using a frame within a frame* that consisted of a plot (Katherine and Petruccio) and a subplot (Bianca and Lucentio), the story examines marriage, emphasizing on its economic aspects (how economic factors influences who marries whom); and on the tremendous influence the society has over one’s happiness (how happiness is dependent on everyone playing his or her prescribed role).
Performed on stage**, Petruccio’s way of taming Katherine — showing up late and horribly dressed for their wedding; turning everything against Katherine’s will, ironically, under pretense of concern for her wellbeing; making Katherine agree with everything he said even if she believed otherwise (e.g., making Katherine say that the sun was really the moon); and showing her beautiful dresses but denying her the chance to own them, telling her they weren’t good enough for her — are hilarious. So are the wooing scenes between Bianca and Lutencio.
…while being so confused…
The language of the story is such a challenge to understand, but far challenging to comprehend are some crucial points. What happened to the Christopher Sly frame? Why did Katherine, intelligent and rapier-tongued, uncharacteristically fall silent when Petruccio arrogantly forced her to give her consent to marry him? Was it because he proved he was her equal in wit and in verbal skills? Or was it for something deeper, such as, she had recognized he was her only chance of ever being married?
But if that was so, why then, after the marriage, did she allow herself be treated brutally, giving only the slightest of objections? And finally, how could she have been transformed so easily? Or had she been really?
… then, somehow a little enlightened, laughed no more.
As the story came to an end — with Katherine suddenly becoming well tamed and proper, while her sister turned into a shrew; and, more importantly, with the understanding of just how much influence the society had over one’s life and happiness coming down to mind — the laughter just died down, especially when Katherine gave her sister a piece of her mind:
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience,
Too little payment for so great a debt.
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband’s foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
Hearing her speech, I was so stunned, that soon I found myself thinking: “Poor Katherine, she did not at all have a choice." She knew she had to be transformed somehow if she wanted to gain acceptance to the society she despised.
But if indeed she was transformed, then she was a broken woman, because the very essence of who she was — intelligent, independent, and not easily swayed — was destroyed. But if she was just playing along with her husband, having realized that it was the only way she could get what she wanted, she was broken still, for she had locked away her true self, never to resurrect it again.
* Main frame is the Christopher Sly frame. Sly was a tinker who became a subject of a nobleman’s cruel joke. The second frame is the main story, which consists of a plot (Katherine and Petruccio) and a subplot (Bianca and Lucentio).
** The production of The Taming of the Shrew that I saw was that of the Repertory Philippines in 2005 at Greenbelt One.
and the society's influence on happiness
The shrew…
She was a woman who knew her mind and enjoyed speaking it out. Meek and submissive, she was neither. Her tongue was good at stringing spiteful words; and her mind, as her tongue, was sharp and not easily matched nor bent.
The 21st century would love her and believe in her. Inspired by her, it would teach its sons to respect and admire her, and its daughters to emulate her. Independent and tough, she would be called, and both words would carry a ring of veneration and amazement to them.
But unfortunate, Katherine likewise was, for she was made to live 400 years much too early — at a time not a bit tolerant of her nature, in a story that is sympathetic of her yet intolerant of her ways.
She was an outcast of the society she despised. Everyone likeneed her to an animal to be tamed; and people referred to her as a shrew, and was invariably described as “too rough” (I.i.55) and “stark mad” (I.i.69).
Yet, in retrospect, she might simply be misunderstood by everyone around her — her father who seemed to love her sister more, and the less-witted men that surrounded her.
… and the tamer…
Had he lived today, when the two sexes are viewed as different but equal, he would be deemed egotistical and portentous. A man to be revered, he was not — now, or 400 years ago — with his crass behavior and overbearing attitude, and his not-quite-honorable intentions: first, to marry a wealthy woman to augment his inheritance:
Signor Hortensio, ‘twixt such friends as we
Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruccio’s wife—
As wealth is burden of my wooing dance—
Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love,
As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates’ Xanthippe or a worse,
She moves me not—or not removes at least
Affection’s edge in me, were she as rough
As are the swelling Adriatic seas.
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;
If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
(I.ii.62–73)
then, somehow challenged by reports of the rich man’s daughter’s (Katherine’s) shrewish behavior, to tame her and turn her to a suitable wife.
Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Petruccio: My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Quick-witted he was though, and that proved to be enough to make Katherine submit to his will.
… together…
Their first meeting was hostile, as was the norm with Katherine; and soon they engaged in verbal duel:
Petruccio: Come, come, you wasp, i’faith you are too angry.
Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Petruccio: My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.
Petruccio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.
Katherine: In his tongue.
Petruccio: Whose tongue?
Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.
Petruccio: What, with my tongue in your tail?
(II.i.207–214)
with Katherine throwing insult after insult, and Petruccio turning each of her slurs into sexual innuendo which frustrated her and, at the same time, somehow won her over; or at least, silenced her.
…in a story that made me roar with laughter…
Using a frame within a frame* that consisted of a plot (Katherine and Petruccio) and a subplot (Bianca and Lucentio), the story examines marriage, emphasizing on its economic aspects (how economic factors influences who marries whom); and on the tremendous influence the society has over one’s happiness (how happiness is dependent on everyone playing his or her prescribed role).
Performed on stage**, Petruccio’s way of taming Katherine — showing up late and horribly dressed for their wedding; turning everything against Katherine’s will, ironically, under pretense of concern for her wellbeing; making Katherine agree with everything he said even if she believed otherwise (e.g., making Katherine say that the sun was really the moon); and showing her beautiful dresses but denying her the chance to own them, telling her they weren’t good enough for her — are hilarious. So are the wooing scenes between Bianca and Lutencio.
…while being so confused…
The language of the story is such a challenge to understand, but far challenging to comprehend are some crucial points. What happened to the Christopher Sly frame? Why did Katherine, intelligent and rapier-tongued, uncharacteristically fall silent when Petruccio arrogantly forced her to give her consent to marry him? Was it because he proved he was her equal in wit and in verbal skills? Or was it for something deeper, such as, she had recognized he was her only chance of ever being married?
But if that was so, why then, after the marriage, did she allow herself be treated brutally, giving only the slightest of objections? And finally, how could she have been transformed so easily? Or had she been really?
… then, somehow a little enlightened, laughed no more.
As the story came to an end — with Katherine suddenly becoming well tamed and proper, while her sister turned into a shrew; and, more importantly, with the understanding of just how much influence the society had over one’s life and happiness coming down to mind — the laughter just died down, especially when Katherine gave her sister a piece of her mind:
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience,
Too little payment for so great a debt.
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband’s foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
Hearing her speech, I was so stunned, that soon I found myself thinking: “Poor Katherine, she did not at all have a choice." She knew she had to be transformed somehow if she wanted to gain acceptance to the society she despised.
But if indeed she was transformed, then she was a broken woman, because the very essence of who she was — intelligent, independent, and not easily swayed — was destroyed. But if she was just playing along with her husband, having realized that it was the only way she could get what she wanted, she was broken still, for she had locked away her true self, never to resurrect it again.
* Main frame is the Christopher Sly frame. Sly was a tinker who became a subject of a nobleman’s cruel joke. The second frame is the main story, which consists of a plot (Katherine and Petruccio) and a subplot (Bianca and Lucentio).
** The production of The Taming of the Shrew that I saw was that of the Repertory Philippines in 2005 at Greenbelt One.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The music of Conroy's pen
Last weekend, I almost learned to love poetry.
And it was by reading a narrative: Pat Conroy’s “The Prince of Tides.”
The book had been sitting idly in my bookshelf for more than a year before I decided to scan it for lack of interesting thing to do. Its title failed to suggest a captivating read so that if I had other options besides the classics I have lined up for myself, I would not have spared it a single glance, much less touch it. But as it was, the only books in my possession that remain unread are “oldies” so I decided to make do with it. Better that than have Mr. Boredom for company for a whole weekend.
Or so I thought.
The first sentence of the novel was so powerful it made me read on and on and, before I knew it, I was already hooked. Pat Conroy is a master storyteller; his sentences, a fusion of prose and poetry. Never in my rather bookworm life had I read a novel so melodious that, in more than one occasion, I’ve caught myself wondering if it was indeed prose, not poetry, that I was reading.
And the plot — intricate yet craftily woven. A story of a grotesque past, the novel presents how times of yore shape the future. And more important, how it is possible that sometimes, the only way to move forward is to re-trace one’s footsteps; and how healing could be had by coming to terms with the things we’d rather commit to non-remembrance.
For these reasons, I think I’d soon add works bearing the music of Conroy’s pen to my list of must-reads.
And it was by reading a narrative: Pat Conroy’s “The Prince of Tides.”
The book had been sitting idly in my bookshelf for more than a year before I decided to scan it for lack of interesting thing to do. Its title failed to suggest a captivating read so that if I had other options besides the classics I have lined up for myself, I would not have spared it a single glance, much less touch it. But as it was, the only books in my possession that remain unread are “oldies” so I decided to make do with it. Better that than have Mr. Boredom for company for a whole weekend.
Or so I thought.
The first sentence of the novel was so powerful it made me read on and on and, before I knew it, I was already hooked. Pat Conroy is a master storyteller; his sentences, a fusion of prose and poetry. Never in my rather bookworm life had I read a novel so melodious that, in more than one occasion, I’ve caught myself wondering if it was indeed prose, not poetry, that I was reading.
And the plot — intricate yet craftily woven. A story of a grotesque past, the novel presents how times of yore shape the future. And more important, how it is possible that sometimes, the only way to move forward is to re-trace one’s footsteps; and how healing could be had by coming to terms with the things we’d rather commit to non-remembrance.
For these reasons, I think I’d soon add works bearing the music of Conroy’s pen to my list of must-reads.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
The Challenge
I’ve always labeled classic literature as boring. Somehow, works in this genre fail to make me want to read on until the last page. I’m not sure if it’s the language used or the milieu in which these works were written, but it’s a real effort for me to keep going.
But even with this difficulty, I believe I ought to read the classics, if I want to be truly “literate.” Salve and Celestine, who were extremely surprised when they learned I got through high school without reading a single novel by William Shakespeare, Nathaniel Thorton, and the like, think so, too. In fact, they’ve been encouraging me to read the works for as long as I can remember, giving me pointers on how to get through, if not enjoy, them. And every time I survey Salve’s collection of “oldies,” somehow I feel compelled to read each one of them.
I did attempt to, several times. But each time, I always ended up dropping whatever classic it was I was trying to drum into my mind, before I even got to Chapter 3.
So I devised a way for me to coerce myself into reading these “unreadables” — by employing the punishment-and-reward system.
Here’s how it goes:
Challenge: By the end of 2006, I should have read all the books listed below (classics and non-classics alike).
Rationale: The challenge won't only give me the chance to finally get acquainted with the characters that graced the pages of classic English literature. Toward the end of the year, I'd likewise be able to find out how disciplined I am. (If I'd pass this challenge, then I'd know I have enough discipline to see me through greater endeavors; However, if I'd fail it, then I'd know I lack self-discipline. I would then be able to design measures to correct my weakness).
Classics
To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
Mythology (Edith Hamilton)
Emma (Jane Austen)
The Scarlet Letter (Nathaniel Thorthone)
Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Mark Twain)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained (Milton)
Adventures of Oliver Twist (Charles Dickens)
The Prince and the Pauper (Mark Twain)
Non-classics
The Partner (John Grisham)
The King of Torts (John Grisham)
Obstruction of Justice (Perri O’Shaughnessy)
The Last Promise (Richard Paul Evans)
The Runaway Jury (John Grisham)
Lean Against the Wind (James McKarns)
Eleven Minutes (Paulo Coelho)
Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
The Prince of Tides (Pat Conroy)
The Chamber (John Grisham)
Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
(Legend: Finished reading; Untouched: Ongoing)
Reward: Buy myself the white gold necklace I really want without feeling guilty.
Punishment: Treat Elaine, Chie, Jing, Salve and Celestine to lunch or dinner (Am still thinking whether I should include Lorien or not). And more important: refrain from bullying these five (or six, I haven’t decided yet) imps for a whole month.
Rationale: These girls definitely won’t let me off the hook if I fail the challenge. Hence, they’d be keeping an eye on me. Knowing that, I’d of course persevere. Likewise, for an innate bully like me, having to go against my nature, even for just a month, would kill me. I'm sure I won't last a month without doing some bullying spree.
So there's the challenge. We’ll see how I’d fare.
Note: This particular entry will be updated regularly to show my progress.
But even with this difficulty, I believe I ought to read the classics, if I want to be truly “literate.” Salve and Celestine, who were extremely surprised when they learned I got through high school without reading a single novel by William Shakespeare, Nathaniel Thorton, and the like, think so, too. In fact, they’ve been encouraging me to read the works for as long as I can remember, giving me pointers on how to get through, if not enjoy, them. And every time I survey Salve’s collection of “oldies,” somehow I feel compelled to read each one of them.
I did attempt to, several times. But each time, I always ended up dropping whatever classic it was I was trying to drum into my mind, before I even got to Chapter 3.
So I devised a way for me to coerce myself into reading these “unreadables” — by employing the punishment-and-reward system.
Here’s how it goes:
Challenge: By the end of 2006, I should have read all the books listed below (classics and non-classics alike).
Rationale: The challenge won't only give me the chance to finally get acquainted with the characters that graced the pages of classic English literature. Toward the end of the year, I'd likewise be able to find out how disciplined I am. (If I'd pass this challenge, then I'd know I have enough discipline to see me through greater endeavors; However, if I'd fail it, then I'd know I lack self-discipline. I would then be able to design measures to correct my weakness).
Classics
To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
Mythology (Edith Hamilton)
Emma (Jane Austen)
The Scarlet Letter (Nathaniel Thorthone)
Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Mark Twain)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained (Milton)
Adventures of Oliver Twist (Charles Dickens)
The Prince and the Pauper (Mark Twain)
Non-classics
The Partner (John Grisham)
The King of Torts (John Grisham)
Obstruction of Justice (Perri O’Shaughnessy)
The Last Promise (Richard Paul Evans)
The Runaway Jury (John Grisham)
Lean Against the Wind (James McKarns)
Eleven Minutes (Paulo Coelho)
Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
The Prince of Tides (Pat Conroy)
The Chamber (John Grisham)
Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
(Legend: Finished reading; Untouched: Ongoing)
Reward: Buy myself the white gold necklace I really want without feeling guilty.
Punishment: Treat Elaine, Chie, Jing, Salve and Celestine to lunch or dinner (Am still thinking whether I should include Lorien or not). And more important: refrain from bullying these five (or six, I haven’t decided yet) imps for a whole month.
Rationale: These girls definitely won’t let me off the hook if I fail the challenge. Hence, they’d be keeping an eye on me. Knowing that, I’d of course persevere. Likewise, for an innate bully like me, having to go against my nature, even for just a month, would kill me. I'm sure I won't last a month without doing some bullying spree.
So there's the challenge. We’ll see how I’d fare.
Note: This particular entry will be updated regularly to show my progress.
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