For any passionate reader, there are fiction writers who stand out for a variety of reasons. (Non-fiction writers also stand out, of course, but often for different reasons....)
Writers whose technique you admire; writers whose characters you identify with; writers whose books you simply enjoy.
Then there is a shorter list of writers, much shorter: those whose work has had a profound effect on you. Whether their work has moved you deeply, or taught you something, or been associated with a particular time of your life; whether it has been there for you when times were bad or whether it has made you laugh hysterically when there wasn't much good around you, these works and their writers are etched more deeply on your soul than most of what you read.
Some of those writers---Louisa May Alcott, for example, or Laura Ingalls Wilder---have lived and died before you were born, or at least old enough to read. Some of them may have overlapped your life, but died before you discovered them: C. S. Lewis comes to mind.
And then there are the ones whose work you were well aware was entrenched into your being while they were still actively writing; writers whose death leaves you with a very real sense of personal loss. Asimov. Heinlein.
And this week, for me, Robert B. Parker. The world is just a bit dimmer place without him at his desk in Boston. He brought us a few series characters: Spenser with Susan Silverman and Hawk, Jesse Stone, and Sunny Randall spoke to us in a contemporary setting; Virgil Cole and Everett Hitch from a century back or so. There were other characters that had no series.
But his people all had something in common: their view of the world, and how it works, and what a person owes themselves. And I appreciated that view and learned from it.
I will miss you, Robert. May your soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
20 January 2010
05 January 2010
Reviewing Stuff I've Learned Last Year......
I don't function in chaos.
By that I don't mean that I need everything perfectly tidy and orderly and regimented; I don't have OCD, and yes, there's such a thing as TOO orderly that can make me twitchy as heck.
But I need things and processes and routines and plans to be reasonably orderly and predictable....even if the "predictable" part is "we're going to do this, that, and free-float on whether to do the other thing."
And it's not a judgment issue: some folks appear to thrive in chaos. They do wonderfully well in an environment where everyone does whatever they want to, working at cross-purposes, ignoring each other, no communication, as if each other isn't even there.
More power to 'em. But I've learned that I don't. And I don't mean "don't function well"; I mean "don't function" period.
It depends, of course, on how chaotic the situation is. I can slowly cease to function, or I can freeze almost immediately, if it's chaotic enough.
And it's not the appearance of chaos that I react to, as near as I can tell. I've been in situations that appear to be utterly chaotic, but a few moments watching the people will tell you that you're seeing an orderly but intense multi-tasking organism. I've even been a part of some of those---try backstage at any functioning theatre.
It's a combination of non-predictability and lack of communication I react to. The "nobody has a clue what's going on, what they're doing, or what anyone else is doing, and they don't give a damn that they have no clue, or see why you'd want one" syndrome.
It doesn't matter WHY I don't function in it. What matters is knowing that I don't. It's not good, it's not bad, it just is. And so I learn how to avoid it as much as possible, and how to extract myself gently when I happen to find myself in it.
It's a good lesson to learn. And I'm happy with it.
By that I don't mean that I need everything perfectly tidy and orderly and regimented; I don't have OCD, and yes, there's such a thing as TOO orderly that can make me twitchy as heck.
But I need things and processes and routines and plans to be reasonably orderly and predictable....even if the "predictable" part is "we're going to do this, that, and free-float on whether to do the other thing."
And it's not a judgment issue: some folks appear to thrive in chaos. They do wonderfully well in an environment where everyone does whatever they want to, working at cross-purposes, ignoring each other, no communication, as if each other isn't even there.
More power to 'em. But I've learned that I don't. And I don't mean "don't function well"; I mean "don't function" period.
It depends, of course, on how chaotic the situation is. I can slowly cease to function, or I can freeze almost immediately, if it's chaotic enough.
And it's not the appearance of chaos that I react to, as near as I can tell. I've been in situations that appear to be utterly chaotic, but a few moments watching the people will tell you that you're seeing an orderly but intense multi-tasking organism. I've even been a part of some of those---try backstage at any functioning theatre.
It's a combination of non-predictability and lack of communication I react to. The "nobody has a clue what's going on, what they're doing, or what anyone else is doing, and they don't give a damn that they have no clue, or see why you'd want one" syndrome.
It doesn't matter WHY I don't function in it. What matters is knowing that I don't. It's not good, it's not bad, it just is. And so I learn how to avoid it as much as possible, and how to extract myself gently when I happen to find myself in it.
It's a good lesson to learn. And I'm happy with it.
24 November 2009
Thanksgiving: Sisters
There are so many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, but the one that's on my heart today is sisters.
I'm not speaking of the ones that came from your folks being brave enough to do that reproduction thing more than once: surely wonderful, but I've not been blessed with any of those, so it's outside my zone of experience.
But for the sisters that we find along the way: the ones whose hearts and minds and spirits resonate with our own. The ones we share the triumphs and the failures and the truly horrendous jokes with; the ones that won't be able to bail us out, because they'll be right there with us.
For all of these I am truly thankful: for my sister in Florida who knows the deep dark schooldays secrets; for my sisters in Illinois who have been there for me in good days and bad; for my sisters in Texas who feed my spirit, and don't know each other, and should; for my sister in Missouri who moves my heart; for my sister in Washington who challenges my mind.
For my sisters in Indianapolis at St. Gabriel's and elsewhere. And for other sisters I've not mentioned, and sisters I have not met yet:
For all these, Lord, I am truly thankful.
I'm not speaking of the ones that came from your folks being brave enough to do that reproduction thing more than once: surely wonderful, but I've not been blessed with any of those, so it's outside my zone of experience.
But for the sisters that we find along the way: the ones whose hearts and minds and spirits resonate with our own. The ones we share the triumphs and the failures and the truly horrendous jokes with; the ones that won't be able to bail us out, because they'll be right there with us.
For all of these I am truly thankful: for my sister in Florida who knows the deep dark schooldays secrets; for my sisters in Illinois who have been there for me in good days and bad; for my sisters in Texas who feed my spirit, and don't know each other, and should; for my sister in Missouri who moves my heart; for my sister in Washington who challenges my mind.
For my sisters in Indianapolis at St. Gabriel's and elsewhere. And for other sisters I've not mentioned, and sisters I have not met yet:
For all these, Lord, I am truly thankful.
03 October 2009
Mister Fry Redux
OK, now I've seen the whole show.
Wow.
I expected to be amused; I expected to be educated; I expected to be made to think. I expected to hear anecdotes of teacher experiences, stories of students, tales of the culture shock of a kid from Indianapolis private schools finding himself as a teacher in notoriously tough South Central Los Angeles, and the insights that came to him as result of that experience.
And I did; it was all there.
What I didn't expect was for Jack's stories of his experience to move me to tears. For the sad events to tear my heart; the accomplishments to give me joy.
Yes, I understand that Jack's a great teacher, a special teacher. Anyone who can not only understand the preciousness of these students, but share it with complete strangers in such a way as to make them feel what he feels cannot help but be, for it is those same skills that he uses to teach us about these kids. And to teach us to care about these kids.
If you're in Indy, you've got this weekend and two after to catch this show. If you're not, it's headed to an Off-Broadway run in November and December. "Must see" is thrown around way too casually these days, but that's what this is: a show that will not only entertain you, but feed your soul.
Way to go, Jack.
Wow.
I expected to be amused; I expected to be educated; I expected to be made to think. I expected to hear anecdotes of teacher experiences, stories of students, tales of the culture shock of a kid from Indianapolis private schools finding himself as a teacher in notoriously tough South Central Los Angeles, and the insights that came to him as result of that experience.
And I did; it was all there.
What I didn't expect was for Jack's stories of his experience to move me to tears. For the sad events to tear my heart; the accomplishments to give me joy.
Yes, I understand that Jack's a great teacher, a special teacher. Anyone who can not only understand the preciousness of these students, but share it with complete strangers in such a way as to make them feel what he feels cannot help but be, for it is those same skills that he uses to teach us about these kids. And to teach us to care about these kids.
If you're in Indy, you've got this weekend and two after to catch this show. If you're not, it's headed to an Off-Broadway run in November and December. "Must see" is thrown around way too casually these days, but that's what this is: a show that will not only entertain you, but feed your soul.
Way to go, Jack.
29 September 2009
They Call Me Mister Fry
Just saw a preview tonight for Jack Freiberger's They Call Me Mister Fry. Jack's one man show about life as a teacher in South Central LA --- a teacher whose background is white Midwestern privilege --- looks to be insightful and thought-provoking. It's worth taking the time to head to the Fringe building for the full show, I believe: showtimes, location, and all that nitty-gritty here.
Hope to see you there!
Hope to see you there!
31 August 2009
FringeNext: Come See Our Show or the Teddy Bear Gets It
[FringeNext is the young performers, under 18, who may become the next generation of Fringe performers.]
Lyndsey Brown, Kevin Burgun & Christina Cardenas
Brebeuf Jesuit Prep (Indy)
These are excellent performers; the girls sing beautifully, together or separately, and they all act well. But the play ("winning" the Irish lottery---actually falling for an internet scam---and attempting to force payout of the "winnings" by threatening to guillotine the teddy bear taken from a child one of the girls is supposed to be babysitting, but has in fact left home alone) has, with apologies to Gertrude Stein, no "there" there.
The original songs were good. But the script was a meandering ramble. Even the core part of the "plot" didn't seem to exist: they did some background on the lottery "win", wandered off to high school life and getting in to college, and then shifted to "ok, time to shove the bear in the guillotine" so abruptly, and unexplainedly, that I was left wondering if they'd accidentally skipped a couple of pages of lines. Then having set that scene, pretty much went back to rambling from topic to topic with no dramatic tension until they reached the end of their time slot, with no denouement whatsoever---simply "okay, we're done now, thanks for coming."
There's a great deal of performance potential here, but it needs a script that goes somewhere and does something.
Piggie's Rating: **** for the performers and the musical portion; ** for the show itself
Lyndsey Brown, Kevin Burgun & Christina Cardenas
Brebeuf Jesuit Prep (Indy)
These are excellent performers; the girls sing beautifully, together or separately, and they all act well. But the play ("winning" the Irish lottery---actually falling for an internet scam---and attempting to force payout of the "winnings" by threatening to guillotine the teddy bear taken from a child one of the girls is supposed to be babysitting, but has in fact left home alone) has, with apologies to Gertrude Stein, no "there" there.
The original songs were good. But the script was a meandering ramble. Even the core part of the "plot" didn't seem to exist: they did some background on the lottery "win", wandered off to high school life and getting in to college, and then shifted to "ok, time to shove the bear in the guillotine" so abruptly, and unexplainedly, that I was left wondering if they'd accidentally skipped a couple of pages of lines. Then having set that scene, pretty much went back to rambling from topic to topic with no dramatic tension until they reached the end of their time slot, with no denouement whatsoever---simply "okay, we're done now, thanks for coming."
There's a great deal of performance potential here, but it needs a script that goes somewhere and does something.
Piggie's Rating: **** for the performers and the musical portion; ** for the show itself
FringeNext: Every Story Has a Song
[FringeNext is the young performers, under 18, who may become the next generation of Fringe performers.]
International School of Indianapolis
This compilation of stories and songs was excellent, and the performers quite talented. The one thing I found distracting was the singers using sheet music for their songs: in a self-described "cabaret", I expect the performers to know their pieces (as they did in storytelling), and the continual movement of the music stand and flipping of pages in the sheet music was an annoyance which detracted from the overall effect of the performances.
Other than that, it was top drawer for a high school performance, and as professional as any Fringe performance---and more than some.
Piggie's Rating: ***
(Would be a four star without the sheet music)
International School of Indianapolis
This compilation of stories and songs was excellent, and the performers quite talented. The one thing I found distracting was the singers using sheet music for their songs: in a self-described "cabaret", I expect the performers to know their pieces (as they did in storytelling), and the continual movement of the music stand and flipping of pages in the sheet music was an annoyance which detracted from the overall effect of the performances.
Other than that, it was top drawer for a high school performance, and as professional as any Fringe performance---and more than some.
Piggie's Rating: ***
(Would be a four star without the sheet music)
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