Force-Feed Your Kids Great Books, Poems and Plays, Even Though They Would Rather Watch the Stuffing Being Kicked Out of a Character in a Video Game!
On impulse I walked over to The Irish Repertory Theatre in New York City to see John B. Keane’s The Field. Had I known the subject of the play would so closely parallel my experiences of the past few years, I don’t think I would have gone to see it. I wasn’t prepared to witness a variation of what happened to me, happen to the characters in the play any more than someone who had recently lost a loved one would want to subject himself to sitting through a play about death, or than someone who had just broken up with a true love would want to be penned in by an audience and watch a relationship between a man and a woman disintegrate from 8 pm to 10:30 pm.
The Playbill presented the drama as being a battle over a four-acre patch of land and “the challenges upcoming generations of Irish will face as economic progress comes into conflict with time-honored tradition.” I settled in for a slice-of-life conflict awash in Irish brogues and Irish humor. Instead, within 10-minutes I knew this play was only superficially about cows grazing on a field that might be lost to an industrial site, or about the end of a way of life in Ireland. No, this play was about losing your moral compass, about opportunism, and about clutching what you already have at the cost of losing your soul.
In retrospect, I’m just sorry I wasn’t aware of this play a decade earlier when its messages could have helped me through one of the biggest challenges I have had to face as an adult. When I was a kid, I was required to read many books, poems and plays with themes I really didn’t understand simply because I lacked the life experience necessary to relate to the story lines. I hadn’t contemplated death because I was, of course, immortal, so The Bridge of San Luis Rey was just a story about people who didn’t even know each other, all crossing the same bridge at the same time. So what if the bridge fell? I hadn’t had a great love, so wading through the drivel by Lord Bryon was just a means to a grade in an English Literature class. Macbeth, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet were interesting family dramas, but hardly worth the struggle to interpret the foreign language in which they were written.
Now, as an adult, I know why I had to read those works. The Heart of Darkness, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Silas Marner, The Red Badge of Courage and all those other books, poems and plays I was force-fed years ago gave me an enormous insight into human behavior and prepared me with second-hand knowledge for first-hand living.
With each piece of dialogue, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach return. By the end of the first act, I felt waves of panic, powerlessness and despair—the same emotions I felt as I waited in January for eight members of the jury to bring in a verdict for—or against me—in a battle over land against an adversary taking dead aim with his weapons of mass destruction against my peashooter.
I stayed in my seat through the intermission and into the second act because I wanted to find out to what extent Bull—as menacing a character as I have ever seen on stage—would comport himself in ways similar to that of my adversary in his unrelenting pursuit of my property. Could the outcome of my trial been foretold by the experiences of the characters in The Field? I was eager to see if the neighbors of the defenseless, aged widow in Carriagthomond, a small village in the southwest of Ireland, would thwart Bull’s plan to buy her property for one-third of its value. Would neighbors show some spine and stand up or would they cringe in their houses, tails tucked between their legs? So much was I a part of this play and so familiar was I with the sense of impending disaster that I was certain the audience could hear my screaming internal dialogue!
Bull, played by Marty Maguire, holds a lot of cards within the community. He is related to half the town. He has clout. They owe him. He has a BIG physical presence on stage and , literally, a big stick that he carries with him at all times. You can’t take your eyes off that stick. It’s like looking down the business end of a shotgun. Terrifying and mesmerizing.
My adversary was Bela Szigethy, Co-CEO and Managing Partner, at The Riverside Company in New York City, a firm with earnings last year of $143 million dollars. What he wanted, he was bound and determined to get. (The Riverside Company’s philosophy and business practices are based on “The Golden Rule,” according to their Web site.) No! I will not sell him my house!
Bull employs his son, Leamy, played by Paul Nugent, to help him do the dirty work of intimidation. Leamy makes the hair stand up on the back of the audience’s neck. He’s a kind of lurking shadow figure on stage every time Bull is.
My adversary’s “Leamy” was a take-no-prisioners law firm.
Bull and Leamy wreak havoc in their pursuit of four acres of somebody else’s pasture on which to graze their cows. They threaten and bully their decent, God-fearing neighbors so thoroughly that, in the end, the neighbors (even in the presence of the fear of God that looms so large in an Irish Catholic parish and in spite of admonitions by the parish priest that the community do the right thing) took only those actions that were in their individual best interests relative to Bull. That is to say, they took no action at all. Bull, as nasty a piece of work as you’re ever likely to encounter, is a master at exploiting the power of intimidation. He swaggers into the local bar at the end of the play, stick in hand, and, despite having eliminated the only other bidder for the property by creating yet a second widow in that four-acre field, guiltlessly justifies buying the widow’s land at far less than market value.
The townspeople keep their heads down. The play ends.
Troubling. Insightful. A universal theme, applicable to many, many situations, including mine.
A.O. Scott, a film critic at The New York Times writing an essay on May 21st about the list of “Best Work of American Fiction in the Last 25 Years,” said that “The best works of fiction…appear to be those that successfully assume a burden of cultural importance. They attempt not just the exploration of particular imaginary people and places, but also the illumination of epochs, communities of the nation itself.” On June 2nd, Charles Isherwood, theater reviewer in The New York Times, described what takes place in the play as a “cover-up of an act of violence, cowardice and an easy accommodation with brutality…along side robust humor, loyalty to clan and class, and a fierce love of the land.”
Keane, one of Ireland’s leading writers wrote and set The Field in 1964. I only wish The Field had been mandatory reading, along with the poetry of John Donne and the tales of Charles Dickens so I could have known what to expect in a land battle in 2005.
Note from the Wicked Witch of Publishing (TM): Sneak preview available if you want to take a look at the Wicked Witch’s new venture: Click on the Wicked Witch logo on the r-hand sidebar. Let me know what you think! Press release in the works!
June 14th, 2006 at 8:42 pm
The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho.
The Alchemist reminded me that we are all here for a reason, and that if we listen carefully and quietly, we’ll know what that reason is. After many months of waffling, it helped me finally make the decision to quit my job and start the online business I’d been dreaming about.
June 15th, 2006 at 7:42 am
“Catch 22.” I read it at 12 or 13, and it taught me that nearly everything authority figures told me was a lie. That made me the sweet trusting soul I am today.
June 15th, 2006 at 8:21 am
When I read DUNE, by Frank Herbert, at age twelve, it dawned on me how complex the grownup world really was–religion, politics, complicated relationships, intrigue, intense criminal activity…and MEGA responsibilities.
I decided reading about it was one thing, experiencing it too early in life–not worth it.
I enjoyed being a kid.
June 15th, 2006 at 8:55 am
To Kill A Mockingbird.
I read it in English class in my Junior year. It showed me the kind of parent I wanted to be when I grew up. It also taught me that being a good person wasn’t necessarily a flashy thing. Just an amazing book.
June 15th, 2006 at 9:32 am
Lord of The Flies, of course.
June 15th, 2006 at 9:41 am
The Virginian–because it discusses the responsibilities of friendship. The sheriff has to catch his best friend. Is the responsibility to friendship greater than the law? This book also made me analyze and value friendships.
Jean, age 80.
June 15th, 2006 at 11:13 am
Agatha Christie murder mysteries as a tween; Kurt Vonnegut in high school. One taught me to look for clues and that crime does not pay; the other about the absurdity and random cruelty of life.
June 15th, 2006 at 11:22 am
P.S. None of my early favorites was assigned in school. I don’t see the point of force-feeding books, or anything else. I still don’t like THE ILIAD– or prune juice.
June 15th, 2006 at 11:33 am
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I was probably four years old when I got it, and I immediately started coloring all throughout the book. But I still read it over and over. The idea that the tree would give and give and give always astounded me. The idea that the boy would take and take and take also astounded me, especially since he loved the tree. But I wanted to be like the tree, not the boy. And to this day, if I find myself taking too much of anything — attention, possessions — I stop taking, and make a point of giving something to someone I love.
June 15th, 2006 at 2:14 pm
All Quiet on the Western Front by Eric Remarque. I was in the 6th grade. Its a powerful indictment of the dehumanizing effect of war and nationalism.
Les Miserables by Victor Huge. Also 6th grade. A humanistic story about the redemption of former convict Jean Valjean through acts self-sacrifice for the love of another.
Run with the Horsemen by Ferrol Sams. Read it in highschool. A tale of a boy growing up in rural Georgia in the 1930’s who comes to the realization that his hero, his father, is a flawed man. The two sequels are also excellent.
June 15th, 2006 at 2:15 pm
Um, er, Victor Hugo.
June 15th, 2006 at 2:44 pm
Victor HUGE? I think I saw him in a porno movie.
June 15th, 2006 at 2:52 pm
“It remains that the largest and richest store of reflection on all questions of importance about the good life for humankind is literature - the novels, poems, plays, and essays that distil and debate the experience of mankind in its richest variety. It does not matter whether a literature work is tendentious or not, that is, urges a point of view or enjoins a way of life; from that point of view literature is a Babel of competing opinions and outlooks. For the earnest enquirer that is a good thing, because the more viewpoints, perspectives and experiences that come as grist to his mill through the medium of literature, the more chance he has of expanding his understanding, refining his sympathies, and considering his options. That is the great service of attentive and thoughtful reading: it educates and extends the moral imagination, affording insight into - and therefore the chance to be more tolerant of - other lives, other ways, other choices, most of which one will probably never directly experience oneself. And tolerance is a virtue which no list of virtues could well be without, and without which no human existence could be complete or good.” - A.C. Grayling. What is Good?
June 15th, 2006 at 7:58 pm
The Black Stallion - tenacity and survival. #1 son is named directly after the main character of the book. DH won’t admit that, but then he never had a say in the matter.
;0)
S.
June 15th, 2006 at 8:22 pm
“The Little Engine That Could” - I recall asking my mother to read it to me at least a hundred times … until it finally sunk into my thick head that you must have confidence in yourself in order to succeed. This was long before I could read of course.
June 16th, 2006 at 10:17 am
The Wind In the Willows by Kenneth Grahame - given to me by my mother the Christmas I was eight. It has everthing in it: greed, spirituality, loyalty, fear, friendship, etc.
June 16th, 2006 at 12:00 pm
My childhood hero and role model was (and actually still is…) William Brown from the “Just William” series of books by Richmal Crompton (recently mentioned by Grumpy Old Bookman on his web site).
Other books that rocked my young mind: Catcher in The Rye; Catch 22; Animal Farm; Day of The Triffids; Lord of The Flies; Nineteen Eighty-Four.
June 16th, 2006 at 2:43 pm
When I was in jr high most of my family and extended family were into sci-fi and we all passed books around. I read two series that impacted me. The first being Lord Foul’s Bane - the Thomas Covenant series. There were times in that series that the main charachter let so much just happen to him, and that he whined a lot. I got out of it that I needed to take control of situations and make the best of the opportunities presented.
I had an adult role model who just let life happen to her. To this day I look back on it and think how sad.
The other series that I read was The Dragon Riders of Pern. I learned from there that groups need orginization and a goal for the common good.
It was also the first time I remembered that some ppl in a group maybe out for themselves. Now that I’m a member of our town meeting, it’s easy to see that.
The good thing from this series that has been with me is that new starts are always possible - you can change your destiny if you stand up and take the first step.
In elementary school I read the biography of Dorothea L. Dix - she helped changed the system in the early 1800’s in which mentally ill were treated. I was always boggled by what I thought should be an automatic inclination to treating fellow human beings and how that was not the case.
June 16th, 2006 at 8:25 pm
Wicked Witch, how did the trial turn out? Are you writing from a jail cell?
June 17th, 2006 at 5:14 am
My eldest son, who is now 16, read your post whilst I was taking a phone call. “You gave us Mutant Message Down Under (Marlo Morgan) and Jonathan Livingstone Seagull (Richard Bach). They changed the way I thought about the world,” he said.
What more can I say?
June 17th, 2006 at 7:06 am
Can I attribute Go Dog Go to my love of driving fast?
:0)
June 19th, 2006 at 5:30 am
Hi Lynne
I remember vividly The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley. Who could forget Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby and Mrs Bedonebyasyoudid? Also Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild and Black Beauty by Anna Sewell.
June 19th, 2006 at 8:56 am
I was not force-fed books. I devoured them like candy. Three stand out starkly. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken, Come On Seabiscuit by Ralph Moody and The Incredible Journey by Shelia Burnford. These all illustrate Winston Churchhill’s adivce to graduates, “Never give up, never give up, never give up.”
God gave us a brain so we must use it and good really does triumph over evil in the first one. I read that book at least 5 times when I was about 7 years old. It also taught me delicious words like “portico” and “valise” and “musket”. I have a huge vocabulary because of that. I read it again as an adult and it was as riveting then as it was when I was a kid.
The second one taught me a person doesn’t have to be beautiful to be a winner, but must have courage and heart and a deep desire to win.
The third is more complicated. It wasn’t a good book, regardless of how cute the movie was. It was boring until about the last 1/3 to 1/4 of it. However, this book taught me to look for the personality in animals. Because of that, I’ve enjoyed many a moment watching animals.
Note from the Wicked Witch of Publishing (TM): I had to be carried out of the movie theatre after watching “The Incredible Journey.” I was such an emotional wreck!
June 19th, 2006 at 8:57 am
hmmm please excuse the wrong code [sheepish grin]
June 19th, 2006 at 10:49 am
You are so right, Lynn! The movie was incredible, but I found myself noting all the things left out and the things that were changed, so I wasn’t quite an emotional wreck
I rarely find a movie as good as the book, though, so that movie was a real treat.
June 19th, 2006 at 12:34 pm
To Kill a Mockingbird, The Giving Tree, The Littlest Angel, and The Selfish Giant, all taught me about understanding others and having compassion. To this day, I cannot read the “The Littlest Angel” without crying.
June 19th, 2006 at 2:04 pm
As a young child, I read mostly books about animals. One series I remember vividly was about Silver Chief, Dog of the North. I don’t know if those books are even in existence anymore, but if I ever have grandchildren, I intend to read the adventures of Silver Chief to them.
The first book I can remember having a huge emotional impact on me was Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. After growing up in a middle class home, the story took me to dark places I had never known existed. I can still recall some of the visual pictures that book painted in my mind.
Most recently, the book having the greatest impact on me was Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. It is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. Despite the sense of dread I felt throughout the story, the narrator pulled me gently along, setting me back on the ground with the greatest of care when the story ended. Just an amazing book.
I developed a love of reading when my mother introduced me to the Ann of Green Gables books when I was a child. She had read them during her childhood and was enchanted by them.
June 20th, 2006 at 7:50 am
How did the trial turn out? Did the Wicked Witch prevail? Everyone keeps asking me!
In Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged generations of former railroad employees spontaneously came to Dagny Taggart’s rescue by positioning themselves on the tracks, shotguns in hand, to prevent sabotage. The descendants of the German immigrants who built my pretty house in 1902 grabbed their white hats, saddled up their white horses and galloped into town from as far away as England to testify for me. I had managed to locate their grandfather, Charles Hartdegen, in the 1880 census via Ancestry.com. The grandchildren (in their 70’s and 80’s) and great grandchild heard the cries of a damsel in distress.
I fought my adversary off mano-a-mano, witness-by-witness, broomstick swat by broomstick swat. My case made The Star Ledger (the biggest newspaper in New Jersey) and the front page of the New Jersey Law Journal in January.
June 21st, 2006 at 9:12 am
I’m really glad you won, Lynne. It’s not good when heroines lose.
Note from the Wicked Witch of Publishing (TM): Thanks, Bill. The irony is that Bela Szigethy turned down a much more favorable settlement offer years ago. I had no choice but to throw myself on the mercy of the court and a jury of my peers…and beg them to save me. Awful. My attorney Thomas Flinn of Garrity Graham Favetta & Flinn was brilliant. He was my knight in shining armor.
July 21st, 2006 at 8:41 am
Did Bela Szigethy apologize to you? The trial must have cost you a fortune.
July 21st, 2006 at 8:44 am
The first thing Bela Szigethy said to the jury when he took the stand was that he was the “son of a Presbyterian minister.” I’m waiting for his apology for the financial devastation he caused me. Even though in the United States if you sue someone and lose you don’t have to pay the other guy’s legal fees, reimbursement would be a nice gesture. All I know is I had the stuffing kicked out of me and my winning was a classic Pyrrhic victory.