Fever-Stricken

Laurie Halse Anderson is one of the most gifted young-adult authors of the 21st century. Her 2nd published novel, Fever, 1793 tells the story of 14 year-old Matilda Cooke, strong-willed heiress to her widowed mother’s coffeehouse in post-revolutionary Philadelphia, and is a quintessential example of the higher-standards required of today’s young adult literature (R.L. Stein, take note).

For the history lovers, there are the historical names, places, and details of the worst yellow fever epidemic in U.S.history intricately woven into Mattie’s story. There’s the dry-heave-inducing accounts of yellow fever’s symptoms. There’s a sweeter-than-saccharine romance between Mattie and Nathaniel Benson, a ne’er-do-well, lowly painter’s apprentice in front of whom Mattie scandalously dares to show off her elbows (gasp!).

There’s Grandfather: General William Farnsworth Cooke “of the Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment,” who spends his days in the coffee shop, regaling the customers with stories of his days under General Washington, while doting on Mattie and his pet Parrot, “King George.” There’s Eliza: the Cooke family’s freed-slave chef who serves as a member of the Free-African Society and always shoots from the hip (“You’re too soft!” she tells Mattie, “You have city hands and a weak back. You wouldn’t last a week on the farm.”)

And, of course, there is Mattie, a typical teenager grappling with the woes of adolescence: awkward in her pubescent body, rebelling against her stoic mother’s rigid expectations while simultaneously seeking her hard-won approval, and trying to establish her own identity, under the most tumultuous of circumstances.

The novel begins with a sluggish introductory chapter which sets the scene and introduces the major characters, and through which I always have to coax my dubious students. But, by the end of chapter two, the story is catapulted into high-gear as it races towards the heart-wrenching climax (I am yet to make it through a read-aloud without tears), and a conclusion that leaves no loose ends untied as Anderson deftly concocts a well-balanced literary meal that is at once educational, suspenseful, and deliciously satisfying.

Binge Reading (the joy of)

For me, reading fiction demands total immersion. Those novels dubbed ‘absorbing’? They are concentrated joy to me. On those rare and wonderful occasions whereupon such a book falls into my quivering hands I am held captive until the end. Yup, I am indeed a dirty binge reading fiend.

Last night sleep won: exhausted, I had to put my latest bundle of book joy to one side and resume once rested enough to give the finale the attention and love it deserved. Nothing is less satisfying than rush reading (‘binge’ is perhaps not the right word – I do not mean to imply speed. Quite the contrary; every sentence is to be relished - but relished now, not later.) It is pure compulsion. You cannot drag your tired eyes from the page.

But alas, there are so many pesky little things that impede upon the dream of a book-centred existence, shoving our precious reading time into a tiny little corner of the day, or (gasp) week. We must reclaim hearty chunks of time rather than feeble little slices. Escape from people, from distractions, from the constraints of your humdrum life.

Like any addictive pastime, there is of course the inevitable comedown. Common after effects include a penetrating feeling of emptiness, loss, despair. For a fleeting second you’ll wish you’d rationed your joy into lunch break bites, but deep down you’ll know it wouldn’t have been the same. If you’re lucky, you can bask in the afterglow and reminisce. Long-term regrets are minimal to non-existent. Go forth and get your fix.

Classic binge reads? Tell me yours. I need more, more, more.

Zachary Kluckman's "Exodus By Mass Transit"

Something unsettles me about Zachary Kluckman's "Exodus By Mass Transit", the first poem in Orgami Condom's recently completed eleventh issue. It begins with a description of a woman on a bus, the driver in fact, and, due to my experiences as a transit-dependent poet, it is easy for me to imagine the poet (or narrator) sitting on the bus scribbling down these details. With that beginning, when the poem moves into expressions of her thoughts and experience, it feels as though the speaker appropriates the woman's identity--makes her image his puppet--in order to get his ideas across. Phrases like "the cancer of cigarette glamour" drip with judgment; the narrator evaluates the woman he sees on the basis of what he imagines about her. He even manages to use her to embody abstractions: "It’s never about the stories, only the need to tell them." Not surprisingly, the stories she would wish to tell do not get told: only the poet's do.

This is, of course, what writers do: we see and reimagine. We are not seeking precise facts and truth. We may take the way you hold your head and make it mean the opposite of what it means to you. We choose which stories we tell.

What this poem does when the words of the author meet my personal experience is to create a reminder of the need for humility in the writer, especially when we write about subjects who may have less social or economic privilege than we do. To be or act otherwise risks using language in the service of an imperial gaze.

MFA Confidential: To Teach, or Not To Teach?

While Julie offered some insightful words of wisdom about post-MFA life last week, luckily, I am still mid-delusion, mid-torrid-affair with my graduate degree in creative nonfiction. And I know I should feel lucky:

I don’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn five days a week (only two this semester); I can still ignore “the real world” when it’s convenient to (and the bailout plan won’t affect my next paycheck); and I get to shoot the shit with fellow writers and publishing professionals on a regular basis. Talking about David Foster Wallace and his tragic demise for 48 straight hours seems normal, as does analyzing the choice of bug by Kafka in the opening of The Metamorphosis for 20 minutes. All in the name of becoming "literary,” well-versed enough in the heavy hitters of one’s field so as to someday be able to mock them in a list on the McSweeney’s website.

However, now that we’ve hit the fourth week of the semester, I am confronted by one of the less savory realities of grad-student-dom: I am a teacher of freshman composition at Emerson. And unfortunately, much as I like to deny it (and continue to deny it by blogging here about it!), I have to grade papers. Tons of papers. Terrible, badly phrased, ill-conceived, freshmen papers. (Some are fabulous, and they string you along just long enough to keep you going through the worst ones.)

Several of my colleagues have already embarked on the grading hamster wheel, one that ensures that for the next ten weeks or so, several of our nights, weekends, and otherwise free cell phone usage time will be consumed with thinking about our students’ papers: their subject-verb agreement, their overuse of passive voice, and their ability (or lack thereof) to convincingly analyze a text or persuasively present an angle on a topic.

Don’t get me wrong: I love teaching. It’s strange, actually, how much I have taken to it over the past year, and how dry erase markers kind of get me hot. But now that I have embarked on the large-scale project that will become my thesis in May and actually want to work on it, I find myself returning to an age-old question that Emerson MFA-ers tangle with: should you teach in grad school? Why distract yourself from the writing time you clearly value and have staked a goodly sum on being able to engage in, in order to toil amongst freshmen papers?

I’ll return to this topic, surely, as the semester progresses and I lose track of friends, relatives, and everyone else except for the lovely 18-year-olds I have in class, but for now, I present a brief Pros/Cons list. Feel free to add to my list with a comment if you too, have considered the benefits and drawbacks of teaching during graduate school:

Pros of Teaching Freshman Comp:
- Resume booster (duh)
- An Emerson Copy Code (worth its weight in workshop crits)
- Ego boost
- Free paperclips (from the WLP front desk)
- Dry erase markers (see above)
- Liking your students
- Feeling like you’re making a difference in the world! (as opposed to the lack of instant gratification in revising that essay or story you’ve been working on for the last year but which hasn’t ever seen the light of day, let alone been “published” for an “audience”)
- Getting to work with John Trimbur (Composition & Rhetoric God)
- Ego rush of grading papers (beware: it wears off quickly)
- Not having to get a soul-killing part-time job at Barnes & Noble (or insert other hellish job here)… hopefully
- Getting paid to teach! (again, novelty wears off just after rent is paid)
- “Talking shop” with other faculty
- Increased chance of overhearing WLP-dept gossip
- 18 or more freshmen hanging on your every word (at least once or twice during the semester)
- Actually getting to test whether you ever want to do this again (priceless!)

Cons:
- Less time to write
- Stress of wondering if you’re spending too much time/not enough time/no time planning your lessons
- Grading papers (the novelty wears off)
- Hand cramps from grading papers
- Deterioration of eyes due to grading papers
- Realizing you’re at the bottom of the academic totem pole
- Realizing you’re probably making less than minimum wage (Never divide your paycheck by hours spent teaching)
- Jealousy of writer friends who seem to be spending lots of time writing, while you are trying to figure out the best way to explain dangling modifiers
- Wondering if you’ll ever get another teaching job, or get stuck teaching composition for the next 35 years. Or until you go blind
- Sense of humor devolving into things 18-year-olds find funny (booze, boobs, hipsters)
- Receiving panicked emails at all hours of the day
- An intimate entrée into the personal lives and antidepressant cocktails of your freshmen
- Did I mention: less time to write?

Savvy Context: Technology for the Literate and Literary

I don't remember life before the PC.

There. I've said it. I hate revealing it for fear of losing credibility, but the truth is fairly simple: I'm a 22 year old blogger and have always had a computer. On the other hand, you are reading the blog of a forward-thinking online literary magazine; you, at least, might not immediately peg me as a Gen Y baby or a traitor to literature. Here, my childhood steeped in floppy disks might lend me some authority. After all, who better to investigate the role of technology in the world of letters than someone who neither remembers life without a computer nor deny her lifelong devotion to literature?

I hope that my work here at Fringe will reveal something more personal about the relationship between technology and the written word. How ready is the individual (and the independent company) to accept the increasingly costly deluge of technology as a tool for the advancement of publishing? How effective are the gadgets and tech trends in the lives of the literate and literary? And what demands on the publishing and technology industries will writers, editors, and readers voice to mold a literate future?

TJ's links to sites of note in his first post inspired me, so I'm including my own list addressing the state of the literate nation. You've doubtless heard the buzz around at least a few of these; feel free to add your own and fill in blanks.

• "Have We Reached the End of Book Publishing as We Know It," nymag.com
• "Literacy Debate - Online, R U Really Reading?," nytimes.com
• "Teenagers and the Internet: What's the matter with kids these days?," salon.com
• "Lazy Eyes: How We Read Online," slate.com
  
• "What is Web 2.0," oreilly.com
• "How is the Internet Changing Literary Style?," steamthing.com
• if:book, A Project of the Institute for the Future of the Book
  
• Teleread blog
• Alertbox, Jakob Nielsen's Newsletter on Web Usability

Next time: The Writing Process. Ideas or thoughts? Comment!

I can still hear him quacking…

Do you think George Bush is watching as you walk into CVS to pick up your prescription for birth control? Maybe not literally, but figuratively he is. He is monitoring your actions and controlling your access along with the department of Health and Human Services bolstered by the Evangelical community at large. Hillary Clinton says this better, but the basics behind a new policy proposed by Health and Human Services allows any federally financed health care worker to opt out of providing necessary services, information or counseling to which he or she is morally opposed. The current law already provides room for the “conscience” of the provider in refusing to perform abortions; this new regulation is different in that it extends that right to also refuse “other medical procedures” thus broadening the law to include not only contraception but a myriad of other necessary services. This is a blatant attempt by the Bush administration to, yet again, further its moral agenda at the cost of women’s health and the quality of our healthcare system as a whole.

Does this surprise you? It shouldn’t.

The Bush administration is nothing if not opportunistic and has a way of sneaking past legislation, signing statements and high-ranking appointments when no one is looking. The long-winded presidential election has proved fertile ground for implementing policies that are hostile to the thinking of most Americans. Whether you’re banking on “The One” to save us all come January 20th or you are really jazzed about the mayoral budgetary choices of Sarah Palin, important, life-altering decisions are being made right now under our current administration. Just because he’s lame…and a duck…doesn’t mean he can’t continue to quack. So bring out that old Nintendo Duck Hunt gun and get shooting!

The Toilet Paper Entrepreneur Interviews EIC Lizzie Stark

The staff of Fringe already understands how wonderful our Editor-in-Chief Lizzie Stark is, but we always love to see her honored elsewhere, too. Check out The Toilet Paper Entrepreneur for a little snapshot into Lizzie's life as EIC.