In all disciplines students should grow to understand what they don’t like as well as what they do. Education is not a following-your-bliss haze of unchallenging indulgence. Education necessitates knowing your enemies as well as your loves, earning all the tools to fight the battle you will choose to fight. Foolish to embrace your own ignorance as a friend. Impossible to hope to make a difference in that wider world that education should open to you if you keep slamming the door.

Any institution of learning belongs in the razor-edged real world. This is where ideas contend. Battle. Bleed. It’s not a sanctuary of pleasant pastures and contented agreement.

Pain is a great teacher.

Books. How can you have too many books? So many minds and ideas, stories told, wonder shared. Someone asked me the other day how I wanted to write, so I said, “…like Max Brand mixed with Dickens, Jane Austen with Robert Parker, T.E. Lawrence and some Gerald Durrell.” In other words the only way I could find to say what I wanted was to give other names, look to other writers. People who’ve filled my brain with images and sounds, smells and textures I never had for myself. Who through analogue and suggestion have populated my memory, made me who I am.

And I have no shame. I will read anything I want to read, trashy, ludicrous, profound and staggeringly beautiful. I don’t care if you sneer, this is my pleasure and my inspiration. Have you ever read Slippy McGee? Or the U.S. Naval Institute’s Division Officer’s Guide from 1959 (fourth edition. Snyder’s The Changeling, or Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead?

But there comes a time when the bookshelves fill up. If you have my luck, you have a spouse who can build bookshelves. Nice new book shelves smelling of beeswax polish, the ghosts of wood stain and sawdust. Still there comes a time when you fill all the walls that can take bookshelves. Then you begin to stack books on their sides atop the rows, or double up the runs of paperbacks on each shelf. (Hardbacks aren’t sufficiently forgiving.) But that too, runs abruptly to an end. Space so far as my house is concerned, is not infinite. So do you go down the dubious path– do you let the first few volumes lie on the floor? In a discrete corner somewhere? Only few odd-sized hardbacks… just temporarily of course, until you have the intestinal fortitude to actually get rid of some books.

Just, until. Talk about slippery slopes.

So two weeks ago I went to my mystery section and weeded. I figured this was a start of reform. Culled duplicates, took out stories I felt I wouldn’t lend or read again. Books which may have held my attention once, but didn’t have that haunting quality that brings me back for a repeat read. Some in which I had tried forty pages or so, but they never held me. (This latter group is tricky because I certainly have had the experience of trying a book, rejecting it, but perhaps years later picking it up and finding it a page turner, hilarious or grave, but riveting.)

How many books could I bear to let go? Two boxes. Not bad, you say, getting ready to applaud me, but stop right there! How much space did this earn me? Enough to get the books onto shelves that had been lying athwart the tops of their chums. Enough to remove the books stacked sideways. Plus perhaps enough space to go to a book sale and buy ten more paperbacks. That’s it. That’s all.

Maybe, instead of resolution and reform, it’s time for blatant recidivism and revolt.

Today I’m sharing a friend’s guidelines for a meaningful critique. I’ve mentioned many times how strongly I believe in solid critique groups, and that all of my work owes much of its strength (and none of its errors,) to writers’ groups to which I’ve belonged. At the Santa Barbara Writers Conference some weeks ago, I met Nicholas Deitch with whom I’ve been friends for years on Facebook, but never previously met in person. He wrote the following discussion of what he sees in a good critique process. For those of you interested in establishing constructive critique groups, here are some great principles.

Guiding Principles for the Meaningful Critique

Nicholas Deitch

(Not copyrighted, free to share and evolve)

The following principles come from my years of experience in the creative realms of architecture and design, both as a teacher and a practitioner, and more recently from my endeavors in creative writing, as a participant in some wonderfully supportive writer’s groups and the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference.

Successful critique is rooted in mutual trust. This trust is not always readily established, but may be nurtured through a brief but honest introduction of the participants, why they are present, and what they hope to gain or share. In the context of meaningful critique, we are not concerned with finding fault, but with understanding the creative intention and supporting success.

Creative Intention

At the core of any creative endeavor, there is some root basis of intention. What is the maker–the Creative–seeking to achieve? What story, impact, emotion or transformation is the Creative seeking to impart? The critiquer should, above all else, seek to understand this intent and offer critique aimed at strengthening the work. In this way, the critiquer becomes an ally and even a guardian of the creative intention.

Through the principles offered here, I have witnessed the power of this creative alliance, when several people come together to share their work, and support each other through meaningful critique. In such critiques, all participants will learn and grow through the process, often in surprising and unexpected ways. In fact, the meaningful critique should be considered a creative process in and of itself. Author Matt Pallamary has referred to the phenomenon of the ‘morphogenic field’ in reference to the escalating creativity that can result in the midst of these gatherings, wherein the Creative and the Critiquers find a place of creative resonance, out of which some wonderful and surprising ideas often emerge that would otherwise likely remain unexplored or unrecognized.

This is a wonderful and exhilarating thing to experience, and the best critiques leave all participants feeling energized and enthused.

Principles for the Meaningful Critique

There are always at least two participants in a meaningful critique: the Creative–the person sharing their creative work to receive a critique, and the Critiquer–the person listening or observing the work with thoughtful intention to offer constructive feedback. Note that there is a benefit to three or more participants, as a way of balancing the critical feedback. Critique is the realm of opinion, not fact nor dictum.

1. Seek the Creative’s consent before offering anything but praise. The Creative must be in a spirit of reception to hear and receive the critique. Note that by participating in a Critique Session, such as a Writer’s Group, there is implied consent.
2. The intention of a meaningful critique is always about supporting the Creative in doing the best work of which they are capable. The emphasis should be on finding the strengths of the work, and then offering ideas to strengthen it further.
3. A meaningful critique requires an openness on the part of the Critiquer–to first listen, observe or read fully, and comprehend the work before offering any feedback.
4. A solid critique is inclusive, speaking to strengths and challenges of the work with balance.
5. Meaningful critique comes from a place of honesty, and a desire to build up the Creative in their work. Honesty requires courage on the part of all participants, to be open to hearing the truth of others, and the willingness to be truthful in the offering. This is not always easy, but is essential if the goal is growth and the bettering of the work.
6. There is rarely a right or wrong in a critique. There are opinions, ideas, conventions and perspectives. A good critique leaves room for the unorthodox, the innovative, the divergent.
7. If the Critiquer has no critical feedback to offer, they are likely not trying hard enough, or may be concerned with imposing distress on the Creative through the process. Learning to critique, and to receive critique, is an art in itself, and requires practice. Most every creative work leaves some opportunity for improvement, or even for continued evolution in the body of work yet to come. However, on some occasions, likely after much hard work, accolades my be the most honest response. This is cause for celebration.
8. Remember that the Creative remains the sole arbiter of the critique, with the authority to use, modify or discard any of the information shared by the Critiquer.

The measure of success of a meaningful critique is the level of gratitude shared by all participants at the conclusion. The greater the gratitude, the greater is the measure of success.

This material is offered without copyright or reservation. Use, share and evolve freely.

Nicholas Deitch, Ventura, CA, 2016

Our geology department has faculty job candidates coming through and to hold down costs, candidates will not be put up in hotels but in faculty guest accommodations. The advantages? Casual discussions over coffee in the morning and with that a far better sense of what living and working here is like.

As I used to crack when I was involved in interviews for Resident Administrator positions, Attila the Hun could be charming for a twenty minute interview. One wants a lot more than an interview before we invite someone in to our geology family. The increased exposure, thus, is all good.

I’ve offered our house and food for interview dinners, as I have in some past job searches, so each candidate will come and share our home for one evening. Anyone familiar with the whirlwind of interviews knows what it is like to have a dinner interview in a public restaurant. Too-loud, inappropriate music that you have to shout over, polite and necessary but utterly derailing wait staff interruptions, problems with logistics and how to get everyone who shows up at the event a chair close enough to hear and be heard. Cross-chat inevitably ensues, the decibel level rises. The only really useful thing is if the candidate is rude to the wait staff, because if that happens, you know this is not a person you want in the family.

Home dinners can offer quieter conversations and reflection, plus time to observe the candidate when he or she or they are tired and have most guards down. This can be a chance to see personality. After nearly sixty years of meeting and greeting and talking, I would hire on character, not accomplishments. You can still make a mistake, there is no perfect method, but you’re less likely to end up lying awake in bed wondering when the knife will slide into your back. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Now for the good stuff. Food. You bet there will be no caterer. I must make up a set of menus, not too repetitive, because many of the department participants will be coming to most if not all of these dinners. Five dinners, with leeway for the vegetarians among us. Only one candidate is a vegetarian, as if so happens, but I am well-aware that while most of the department are omnivores, some prefer to eat low on the food chain.

Color this picture with an oak fire in the fireplace and everyone sitting casually about in comfy chairs. Quiet light, no need for music or wait staff, for I always do these events buffet style. Anyone who leaves hungry has only him her or their self to blame!

So I’m thinking a North African meal, a vegetarian/pescavorian meal, a Middle Eastern meal derived in part from the Ottolenghi cookbooks, an Italian meal– polenta and mushrooms and then, perhaps a Thai dinner. Always enough vegetarian options so that no vegetarian may go hungry!

In the next few days I will share some specific menus, and perhaps even if you don’t want to make a batch of interview meals you may want to try one of these options for home and family.

We hosted our Earth Sciences Department party yesterday and about seventy people attended. We prepared and cooked racks of ribs, slabs of salmon, fresh breads and vegetarian beans while our guests provided all kinds of vegetable and salad dishes, plus plenty of drinkables. I baked nine pies– apples from our orchard, grapes from our vines for the grape pies, boysenberries from the neighbor’s baked into a pie, and one huge four layer boysenberry filled cake with a cream cheese frosting. I probably should not tell how many packages of cream cheese I peeled for that job!

On such occasions we try to do our bit for sustainability, with designated bins for recyclables, and bins lined with the right type of compostable bag to take the compostable plates and utensils plus food waste, which we will later deliver to the processing center. A separate batch of bins stand ready for the non-compostables– paper napkins and waxed paper goods or whatever plastics people wrapped their contributions in.

So, this is a group of people who have spent their lives being students. Yet despite clear labeling on these bins, every year, the morning after finds me in my much-reused latex gloves sorting the garbage because somehow people can’t read those labels. But this year brought an even more disturbing variant.

I met single-serving squeezable plastic/foil baby food units. All “pure”, “organic” food in plasticized squeeze containers, one serving each. To be precise, plastic-covered foil pouches none of which is recyclable. The plastic lids are very large, and recyclable. I found two of these with their lids deep in our bin labeled ‘Compostables’. If you detect a hint of offense in my tone, you are so correct. I am worried about the parent who chooses to buy pure organic food for his or her baby in such a package. That you might absentmindedly throw it in exactly the wrong container is one of those things that can easily happen by mistake. But you do not choose single serving disposable aluminum and plastic pouches without shelling out a good bit of cash and having some time to select and think. So you want organic purity for your baby? Great. But what’s the impact of this choice? How could this company not have thought further in producing these expensive and wasteful items? Pure, organic and plastic present me with a serious disconnect.

I went to the website for this product and they claim that their containers have recyclable lids– well that’s just great! Indeed, they made the lids bigger in order to make them recyclable! Next, they say the production of one of their containers has a smaller environmental footprint than that of a glass bottle– but you often have the option to choose multiple serving sized glass bottles, which could change that equation. More, I am not sure if they are saying that only the original processing to produce a glass jar is more costly and if they have calculated the incalculable recycling in the lifetime of the glass jar? Or do they mean that the environmental cost of recycling the glass is greater than the environmental cost of production for each of their one-use pouches? With foil involved? This, I doubt. I also note that a glass bottle is composed of the third most common element on our planet — silica makes up ~15% of Earth. If the glass ends up back in the soil, it changes none of the chemistry of that soil. Plastics are manufactured materials that do not readily decompose, and have consequences in their smaller particulate form after years of disaggregation, for all animals, including us.

Yes, I understand that caring for a baby is a lot of work. I did it too, cloth diapers (and a diaper service as much as possible because at the end of the equation – sterilizing and washing all your own is more costly to the environment than using a diaper service.) I made baby food at home, except for times we travelled and I had to use bottled baby food. But the bottles and lids of what I bought were all recyclable. The glass meant a stable container with no risk of container molecules separating into the food, even acidic food.

I know a majority of my audience here is not having babies right now, but this isn’t just about baby food. It’s about thinking. I think that what I want to ask is that we try not to have that single serving plastic disposable choice be every day’s choice. No one likes a sermon much, especially when it asks for something, so I’ll return to my soggy gloves and my garbage sort.

One, simply having these strange objects in the vines will decrease rat activity. It won’t stop the little brats, but there will be less damage. Two, a trick I learned over the past week is that if some bunches ripen and you take then out, re-use the rat proof, and the moving about of these containers will also dismay the rats. Every day that I made such changes, the activity of rats decreased markedly the following night, and then increased again the night after. Last of all, we were right to say that some grapes might ‘cook’ in the plastic containers– but this only affected grape clusters out in the full sun. All of this said– we have three baskets of grapes and I plan to initiate processing tomorrow to freeze up the makings for a passel of grape pies for fall and winter!

I am done with these rats. Traps do not suffice, poison feels unethical and gives a horrible death, the tricks of radios and deterrents are fantasies. Plus, I refuse to have an outdoors cat because of traffic, coyotes, parasites, and the mass slaughter of birds and my delightful lizards. But these rats are eating my Concord grapes– even before they ripen….

Of course I must backtrack and say that if you have been reading this blog for recipes, you will have seen my post about the wonders of Concord grape pie, complete with recipe. We love that pie. Consider therefore, our dismay this spring when I reached for two of my frozen Concord grape pie fillings and could only find one bag. I could have sworn I had at least another couple stashed in the big chest freezer. Our dismay inspired a defrost– it was time anyway, but still after a complete clean-out, only one little pie’s worth of grape filling remained in hand.

So these are desperate times, and despite our drought I have had it in mind that this year’s harvest of Concords will be carefully husbanded for future grape pies.

Now, enter the rats. No not the ones you are thinking of, these are our lovely little Neotoma fuscipes, the dusky footed woodrat. also known as the Trade Rat, Roof Rat, or Pack rat. A charming elegant creature fond of climbing in trees, indeed, with some habits that might make you think of tree squirrels. This is the fellow who is known for filching treasures from campers and, in the old days prospectors and miners, leaving treasures in apparent exchange. (Thus ‘trade’ rat.) They have a fondness for bright, shiny, or odd things– in fact I may have already mentioned that I found a nest in my studio that contained many pink, white and blue plastic beads, a cheap wristwatch, a number of nuts and pebbles, plus forty three (yes, I counted them,) clear-head plastic push pins. The mere idea of the rat carrying these in his or her mouth makes my lips hurt.

But the bad news is that Neotoma likes fruit. Thus I have the little fellows gracefully scampering through my orange trees and hollowing out the sweetest fruit, and they even eat my tomatoes. No gardener is going to take that without a struggle. The tomatoes put me into the red zone, so to speak, and I started trapping. But Nature is infinite and hates a vacuum, so you can trap rats all you like, yet in a drought year the sources for new ones are infinite.

I bring you to the morning I step out, brimming steaming coffee cup in hand, to see the tell-tale signs of knocked-down grapes on my side patio by the kitchen garden.

Rage. Council of war with my spouse who is possibly even more fond of grape pie than I … maybe. Possibly not.

If you cannot take out the enemy, take away access. Cheap plastic food containers, drilled to accommodate the stem,

cut so that you can open and slide the stem in,

then cap with the tight fitting lid. Try not to have these hang too much in the sun because you don’t want pre-cooked grapes.

Triumph. A solution for the pie hungry family!

We went to the shelter to find another cat who needed a home and ended up with a lovely fox cat, a blotched red tabby with white underpinnings and snow paws. Fur like teased cotton, guaranteed to make anyone sneeze. He’d been in a cage for too long and at the age of five, really needed to have his own people and a real home, so here he is. The five or more months in a cage have had an effect; he is a jumpy gentleman, but loves to clown around and bat softly at your feet when he’s hiding under the bed. I could wish that our little genetic disaster of a cat, Wee Willie, had warmed up more consistently to him, but it always takes time. They have shared a chair together, though, and the pillows at the head of our bed, so that gives me hope. And oh yes, our new friend is a head butter of the first order.