The Scent of Lemons

I recently read The Lemon Tree by Sandy Tolan; I truly enjoyed it for a number of reasons having to do with hope, enlightenment, and a better world view. One aspect I especially appreciate is the balanced tone. This is no easy feat when you consider the overall theme of the book: the prospect for Mid-East peace.

The author alerts you to his intention in his introduction. He sets as his goal the use of actual source documents as opposed to speculation. He wishes to suppress his own voice, since his voice has no weight in this story: what follows is admirable. When he focuses on Bashir, he uses Bashir's words and his paradigm. When he discusses Dahlia, he uses her point of view, her writing. When he tackles the delicate issues between them, he uses their words to each other, spoken as uneasy friends. He supplements with third-party writings and a review of events. Tolan's "handling" of the issue is to not have handled it at all, but to have laid the facts of the matter before his readers. In addition, he has done so while retaining the emotion, the angst, the pathos of both points of view. I came away with compassion for both sides, with love and respect for both families. I felt, in a small degree, the weight of the problem; I stood in the middle and was emotionally pulled in two directions. What better way to experience the nature of this thorny problem? I have learned more from this book than from all my previous reading combined. I cannot say when I have been better served.

Tolin looks at the lives of two families whose opposite but similar histories weave around the same house. A lemon tree, planted in the house's courtyard by the Arab family, becomes a delicate and poignant symbol of their shared and troubled dilemma. By chance, the two families lives intersect, when events bring Bashir, the Arab and Dahlia, the Jew, together in a tenuous friendship. Tolan makes a fine effort to retain a balance without which this story cannot be credible.

A Fine Line

My friend Lisa and I were discussing books the other day and I asked her to name her very favorite book ever. To an avid reader this is an unfair question. It's a little like asking which of your children you love best: you like them all in different ways, corresponding with their different personalities and charms. Faced with the impossibility of this task, we tried instead to determine why one book is better than another.

I argued, "Does not the fine use of words make one book better than another, one author better than another?"
"No," she countered, "The plot makes the book."
"Ah, but how does an author develop a plot? Through the skillful use of words."
"Okay," she conceded, but then offered up an insight too: two very different handlings of a similar plot or event can produce very different but likewise satisfactory stories.

This would suggest a few things:

1) A fine use of words develop a fine story.
2) A good story lends itself to fine description.
3) Poor use of words can equal a bad telling, no matter how good the subject, but...
4) Erudite words with no real point are, well, pointless. (Scholars do it all the time!)
5) Words need to paint a picture.

6) Monet and Rembrandt are equally compelling in their genre.
7) Ergo, a good story and good telling are equally important.

When you pick up a book, ask yourself a few questions:

Do I find the style and use of words appropriate, i.e. entertaining, descriptive, vivid, etc.? Can I "see" the characters, for example. Do I understand them; do I understand what drives them? Can I feel mist (or spiders) on my face, smell the lavender (motor-oil), etc.?

Does the story interest me? Does it captivate me? If I am interested I can still leave off at the end of a chapter. If I am captivated, I am just finishing the last chapter the next a.m.

Am I willing to put up with some dragging of the plot? (Please say no.) There is sometimes a point in a book where you sort of regain consciousness - where suddenly you are aware that you are reading. Too often it is because the author has gone on and on about some small thing and your boredom switch was flipped. "Oops, here I am flipping ahead to see how many pages before the chapter ends and therefore I must have fallen out of the story." You know the point I mean. The parts of a story which need the most explanation are tricky for an author: how to make sure the scene is fully understood, without beating all the life out of it. (You mystery novelists will forgive the figure of speech.)

Do I come away a little changed? Does the story stay in my mind and why? Am I glad I read it or do I feel a little icky or a little cheated? Am I recommending it to everyone I see including my gynecologist or proctologist? (That, my friends, is when you know when you are obsessed with a book!) Or do I refuse to put it on my GoodReads updates because I am embarrassed to been seen as having read it?

Writers (and aspiring writers), give us plots that are ingenious and writing that is superb. Not much to ask. And in return, we will give you lavish praise to our plumber, 250 library circulations a year, multiple print runs, and that little slice of immortality - a NYT Bestseller designation. Tell me that's not worth a little extra sweat over your keyboard. And maybe one day we can say, without hesitation, yours was the best book we ever read.

Choosing the Right (or Left): Using words to construct a social contract

When the United States Constitution was written, a number of men of wide-ranging beliefs and experience gathered together to labor under the exigency of securing their terribly important and hard-won experiment in ideal society. After extensive debate, they still could not completely agree, even though they had virtually all read and subscribed to the same overarching political philosophies. Why is this so? And what has it meant to us?

First, it is important to consider the broad spectrum of personalities and backgrounds. The majority were lawyers, but a good number were merchants, financiers, businessmen, or scholars. Many owned agricultural property; some held slaves, and others strictly opposed slavery. A few were clergy. Most were well educated. Either by virtue of birthright, or by exceptional motivation and intelligence, many attended the finest schools in the colonies. A good number rose from fairly modest circumstances and others were markedly wealthy. A few were first-generation immigrants, but at least one was a Plymouth pilgrim descendant. All were considered their state's brightest and best, and were likely elected to their seat in the Constitutional Convention because they represented the attitudes and expectations of their individual constituencies. Perhaps most importantly, all believed firmly in the importance of forming a free society that could endure.

This is where the dilemma arose. Each understood certain key words differently: freedom, democracy, republicanism, federalism, confederalism, to name a few. Probably every man saw the American experiment as unique, groundbreaking and an outgrowth of the human need to live according to the dictates of one's conscience. They just saw it in a different way, in different terms. Central government or loose confederation of states? A dominant executive, or a strictly apportioned senate? These consideration and hundreds more occupied them until they were worn down by the effort. In the end, each had to capitulate to the reality that they would never, could never agree. The final product was a study in compromise, somewhat unwillingly attained. Ratification by disgruntled states took over three more years.

The great genius of the Constitution is that the words everyone finally signed off on were so open to interpretation. So not etched in stone, so debatable. The lifeblood of the Constitution is not that is spells everything out. It is that it provided a sturdy enough framework that succeeding generations could build and rebuild within its principles to spell their own words - to fashion a government that works for all generations. Since its ratification, the Constitution has undergone 27 amendments. It is a testament to our faith in the original document that we do not take these changes lightly or come by them easily.

Even the founding fathers, with all their background in political philosophy, enlightenment theory, classical republicanism and Greek democratic ideology could not hammer out a precise document, because they could not predict future imperatives. Fundamentally, they all understood the necessity of self-determination but could not agree on the words which could exactly define each's vision of that goal. Nearly every man walked away from his signature deeply dissatisfied with the resulting document. In all their brilliance, they did not understand that the very ambiguity of the Constitution was its strength. To last it could not be inflexible: like a tall building built to flex in the wind, or move slightly with the shifting of the ground, the Constitution was built to both shelter and to stand.

Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

We are a shorthand society.

When we speak, we tend to use an economy of words. The better we know someone, the fewer words we seem to use. Spouses of fifty years can communicate with gestures, facial expressions, and body language alone. Athletic teams are coached with hand signals and one-word commands. There are a couple of reasons for this phenomenon. As a situation becomes more familiar and routine, we need less detailed information in negotiating it. For example, when your teacher said, "Put your books away," a chorus of groans welled up from the class. Why? Because the formalized act of putting books away indicated that a test was coming. We blow kisses, point at our wrist, etc. for well-known shortcuts in conversation. Also, the human tendency seems to be to expend as little effort as a task reasonably needs.

Texting has taken a firm hold on the popular imagination, curious among a population at large which seldom writes anything. It is probably its brevity which so appeals to modern culture. In its way it is also a logical manifestation of the desire of the young to develop, through language, an identity of their own. Sure, adults text, but anyone over thirty probably does it incorrectly or apologetically. In any case, young or old, it is fraught with potential misunderstanding. Sb may be "stand by," "Sarah Brown" or "so bad;" ta could be a short goodbye or "thanks again" or "try again." Luckily, I suppose, texters feel they know one another well enough, or share enough of the same language patterns so as to be understood. Or perhaps the need to be perfectly understood has diminished. Speed of communication appears to be the goal.

In a business context, I have seen memos on the correct construction of a memo. While this seems a bit paranoid on the surface, it is also a reminder of the importance of clarity in a transaction which can have terrific consequences. When speaking of a contract, finalize has a vastly different meaning than terminate, which can, in some cases be clearer than saying finish. Strategy may be a better term than plan - more proactive and ongoing. Projection might be more accurate than prediction, sounding stronger and more controlled. A memo, by it's nature, is brief. The conveyance of a clear message in an abbreviated format can be critical.

It is often the written form which becomes the binding legal document, from docere; to teach or to prove. The effort of reading thus runs parallel to the development of understanding. When you read a love letter, the words have been chosen to evoke a sentiment and an emotional reaction. Therefore, it is imperative to use the collection of words which best conveys the desired understanding. The wording of a peace treaty must be clear and unequivocal; much depends on the understanding of all the signatories.

How important is the right word in crafting a sentence, both verbal and written? On the Titanic, the sailor on lookout used the words, "Iceberg right ahead," in reporting what he saw. He meant, as his testimony confirmed, that the iceberg was straight ahead. This may have been a common substitution, as his questioner doesn't seem to hesitate over the word. Written transcripts of his testimony then say that the ship started turning to port (left). Did they misunderstand, thinking the iceberg was to the right side, or was this just a 50/50 choice of direction to avoid the collision? Later evidence suggested that if the Titanic hit the iceberg head-on, it may have survived the impact, but the puncturing of its side insured flooding of the watertight compartments. It is much too simplistic to suggest that this tragic event came down to one word, but like the one domino falling, it may have linked the fatal sequence of events.

When Eric Burden sang "Please don't let me be misunderstood," he was singing of love. (I'm a little too young to identify with the Nina Simone version, thank you very much.) He also adds, "I'm just a soul whose intentions are good." Think of it as a make-up letter in musical form. He admits to flaws and asks for love. Now there's an understanding you never want to leave to chance and shorthand, in writing or in speech, even if you've been married a hundred years.

So, learn to write a memo with precision; speak instructions clearly; follow up texts with the sound of your voice, and never, never text a love letter. Understand?

The Magic of Interlibrary Loan

There are a few of you out there (you know who you are) who buy books. Theoretically, if you go to a top-notch bookstore, you can get them to order virtually any book in publication and even pay a little extra to have it come in the mail. And you can keep it! Move over Netflix. As great as this system is, it has a couple of flaws. First, you have to pay for the books. If you are Bill Gates or Warren Buffet, this probably doesn't present a problem. In fact, to save time, they could just buy a bookstore chain and hire someone to keep up with their Goodreads list for them. Or, you might take the view of Desiderius Erasmus who said: "When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes." We book-lovers can identify with that, I think. However, I believe I have seen the consequence of this philosophy on those extreme hoarding shows. In a flabby economy, it is more blessed to borrow than to buy, to paraphrase St. Paul.

The second problem is that some very worthwhile books are no longer in publication, which means that you could go to second-hand booksellers, but still not be guaranteed a coveted title. Here you are writing your thesis on molecular changes in Artesian micro shrimp caused by cell phone tower emissions, and your public bookstore doesn't even have the book you need. Ridiculous! And if you do find the title, you may have to hand over your first-born child to acquire a copy. Not good. Not even if your first-born did just redesign the front quarter-panel on your new family sedan.

Enter the Public Library (Whistles! Applause! Victorious marching music!) and a charming little convention called an Inter-Library Loan (we in the biz remove the hyphen, so as not to sell out to the Man). With an interlibrary loan, you can request books from all over the United States. You can get bestselling novels or deeply arcane scholarly treatises. You can get limited publication editions, and out-of-print volumes. You can request and receive movies, magazine articles or whole magazines, music CDs and newspapers, in short anything that circulates in a library somewhere. There are a few items which are rare enough or fragile enough that the resident libraries choose not to lend them. In these cases, you can request them to send you photocopies or scans of a small number of selected pages. This last is useful if you are pursuing research and only need the specific reference. I once received microfiche which originated in Germany. Here's how it works:

Your library will usually have a link from it's homepage which indicates that this service is available and which takes you to a page explaining how to borrow. If you have trouble finding the link, call the library and they will happily guide you. Once there, the process will require 1) that you have a library card active in the system and 2) that you create an online presence. This latter is a facilitator; chances are the library already has the minimal amount of information it wants you to plug in here. It is merely an easy and efficient way to process your requests. They won't ask for any identifying birthmarks or tattoos, and the most intrusive information may be a phone or e-mail to inform you when your item arrives. Here's the best part - it costs NOTHING. Ok, once in a while, a library may have a fee for photocopying, but you can say up front that you wish not to pay. You don't even have to explain that your kid is at a private university and you are reduced to getting your newspaper out of the neighbor's yard. Most libraries will still send a small number of pages for free.

Once you are logged in to the ILL system, it will link you to WorldCat, a worldwide catalog which includes an enormous number of public and private libraries. You will search this catalog much as you would the one on your local library's webpage. Once you have identified and clicked on your item, you will see a link, usually highlighted in red, to borrow. Clicking on this link will carry over all the book information your home library will need. Since you are logged into your "account" the system will automatically know who wants the loan. This account should also allow you to track progress, see what you have out, and see requests that are pending. Once you click "submit," the request goes to the ILL Genii.

The ILL genii in each library system sort all things out, send forth your request, receive and process the items and send them to your branch for pickup. Just think - the library book that touched the hands of Zac Ephron in L.A. could be in daughter Mindy's hands in as little as two short weeks. (Nah - he probably buys his books.) The loan period varies per library, but a temporary sticker or label on the book will give you a due date. To return the item, simply take it back to your branch library. (p.s. Don't think because the item came from a far away library that they will never know if you keep it - remote lending libraries are remarkably humorless and severe when it comes to a breach of faith such as this.)

So now even if the philistines in your local library fail to grasp the importance of owning every volume of Fungus Growing Magazine, you can still be up to speed. Is this a great country or what?!

What Your Kids Are Reading - The Serialized, the Standarized, and the Superficial

When my kids were young, I insisted they read one classic (what we call a "core collection" book in the library biz) for every two or three series paperbacks they read. As tyrannical as this may sound, my kids actually did not require much governance on this one - any child who is worth his or her salt as a reader comes to recognize rather quickly what constitutes an absorbing story. They so often chose truly interesting and well written books that I ceased to have to monitor the situation. We saw the series paperback as a sort of "rest period" between more challenging books. The idea is not to eliminate series books which kids obviously enjoy. The object is to challenge your children's reading ability by carefully evaluating the three Ss: the serialized, the standardized and the superficial.

Series paperbacks are books built on a basic formula: a character or group of characters performing a type of adventure or action, such as solving mysteries, playing sports, etc. The stories can be predictable and somewhat repetitive and demand little of the reader. They're not meant to be great works of fiction; they can be entertaining but not particularly thought provoking: a light read. Stories are often pleasant, and can teach positive values, or they may be silliness for the sake of it. If your children are unwilling readers, these may ease them into reading. Thinking back, I wonder if my enjoyment of comic books was inversely proportional to the disapproval of them by grownups.

Beware of the occasional series, adult and juvenile, where the big mission seems to be to crank out little money-makers as quickly as possible. I suspect that certain authors have a database set up which works something like the old Mad Lib books - the author fills in new character names, place names, verb here, adjective there, etc. and the database produces a "new" story. Admittedly, reading them is better than not reading at all. But sometimes not by much. Children's reading skills need a workout just as their bodies do.

When a book series becomes too standarized, it fails to activate a child's imagination. Have you ever listened to a band and thought that their songs all sounded kind of similar? Or watched a sitcom and felt like you had seen it before (or something very like it)? As the old joke goes: "I listened to a country song backwards, and my wife returned, I got the house back and my dog came back to life." Sometimes genres fall into a malaise, writing the same plot over and over with minor variations. It's as if they all attended a writing school in which they were given a set of plot parameters and told never to vary. If your child can guess the ending by the end of chapter one, they may not be sufficiently challenged.

There is apparently a fine line between elegantly simple and superficial, and some publishers are missing it. The library has a superabundance of books that propose to teach: ABC books, Count-to-Ten books, Name-the-Color books, etc. Some are sweet or clever or ingenious while some are lame and spiritless. Little does the average person suspect that they, too, could be a published author even if they have never picked up a pen. A (insert picture of Aardvark), B (insert picture of Bee), and so forth. As long as you can spell Umbrella, how hard can it be? Even if you are reading to a toddler, you don't have to bore them witless: after the first reading the child pretty much gets that C stands for Cat. There are too many authors who lean on a filler formula established in the misty past: teach children shapes, colors, ABCs and how to count to ten. Who cares if they're having fun? Almost as bad are the books which replace plot with repeating major characters who have lately arrived from certain daytime cartoon shows. Let's just say that brand recognition does not a true literary experience make.

Whether you are reading to your children or they are reading to themselves, a book should be well constructed enough that some element of it sparks the imagination, initiates a thought process, provides a surprise or an insight, or gets a laugh. Books are a window into all the great ideas that have been passed down through time - noble thoughts, beautiful places, character building experiences. Encourage your kids to choose the window with the view.

What Your Kids Are Reading - Fiction vs. Nonfiction

I have always been a reader who loves facts. Sure, I have read my share of fiction and many of the good fiction writers make a laudable effort to get their facts straight. The reasons for my preference have a lot to do with personal temperament, reading philosophy and, simply, what interests me.

You might assume that most children read fiction, and you would be correct. Most children see nonfiction as "homework," and nothing takes the joy out of reading like that word. Nonfiction represents the assignment to report on an historical figure, or to explain global warming, or to tell why the Declaration of Independence was important. Fiction represents children doing cheeky stuff, having grand adventures, and laughing their heads off. To your kids, nonfiction is spinach, and fiction is chocolate cupcakes. Small wonder they prefer the cupcakes.

I am here to tell you that both have their place. Oh, sure, we could eat vegetables (read nonfiction) all the time and it would be so good for us. No cavities, no empty calories, no goofy, mindless stories. Ugh. What a dreadful way to live. As a kid, I thought dinners with dessert were a perfectly civilized custom. In fact, sometimes one eats steamed brussels sprouts primarily to get to the chocolate cupcakes.

Ok, now I'm hungry. Anyway. The point is that for a child to be intellectually well-rounded they should be encouraged to have some of both. Fiction can be very informative, but it can only go so far. Nonfiction can (oh, yes it can!) be engaging, but it is not usually a laugh a minute. So then the problem becomes one of how to get them to eat their broccoli, er, ah... read nonfiction and like it. Only the most inspired teachers can serve up fact-based literature and make it palatable. We all had those teachers who made the inquisition come alive, but did we have teachers who did the same for biology? (I did. His name was Mr. Belzeski and he taught at McNichol Middle School in Florida. I was a mid-term transfer and he made me enthralled with biology, no mean feat. He made nonfiction come alive and I love him still. Hats off to you Mr. B, wherever you are!)

Teachers can have a big impact on a child's love of facts, but it's a taste which must be nurtured at home. If parents are reading dime novels or technical manuals all the time, their children will have the same polar view of reading: throw-away pulp fiction or sleep-inducing "required reading." If, on the other hand, they set up the telescope with mom and dad, and look at the stars, and if mom and dad suggest/provide some well-written guides and stories about the stars and constellations, well, you can see that this provides a whole different insight into the world of facts. If dinner table discussions include current events, children will eventually develop a curiosity about them. If they see illustrated histories lying on the end table, they will eventually pick them up. See how easy this is?

Most importantly, nonfiction works must not be used as a club to beat them. "Susie, I want you to read this treatise on the War of the Roses, and write a six page summary or no dinner!" Or, "Instead of your favorite TV program tonight, how about a little Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire?" Allow your children to develop their own questions about the world and be on hand with the appropriate (and well thought out) books on their topic. Even if it's The World's Scariest Spiders, or Sixteen Bugs That Live on Your Face. (Relax, I just made those up. I think.)

Don't fret if they prefer Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I am willing to bet that there will be plenty of other future PhDs who will have read it too.

After all, truth is stranger than fiction.