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This is the third in my series taking about superhero characters. In my kickoff post I explained how in some ways they are the modern Gods – created in our image to put into stories to help us understand ourselves better. This time I’m looking at The Hulk, a brutish misfit with near limitless strength.

The Hero

Bruce Banner, scientist, exploring the mysteries of gamma radiation is caught in a blast while saving the life of a foolish kid who wandered into the test area. Instead of dying, the blast transforms him. Normally a genius of no great physical strength, when he becomes angry a startling metamorphosis occurs. Banner transforms into a green, shirt (but not pants) splitting  monster with phenominal strength and endurance. The Hulk is one of the strongest beings on the planet, and woe be to anyone that crosses his path. Scared of hurting someone he loves, and often hunted by the government and other groups, Banner now walks the earth looking for a way to quell the raging beast that dwells within him.  More or less, anyway.

Why we love him

The Hulk is our inner demon. The one we often wish to loose on the world, but are forever struggling to keep bottled up.

Inside all of us is an anger, a devil, that we often wish to set free. It may be a brief rage at someone who cuts you off in traffic, or a deeper anger at an injustice that hit you or your family. You clench your fists, you grind your teeth, you glare, but you keep it under control… barely. You know it would feel good in the short term to unleash, but in the long term the damage would be too great. Watching the Hulk, we vicariously get to watch someone who has no way to stop his demon take it out in ways we wish we could.

When we unleash our fury, we want to believe nobody could stand in our way. We would triumph in our own furious quest. For the Hulk, this is basically true. The madder Hulk gets, the stronger Hulk gets. He will tear apart buildings, uproot trees, and bring down mountains if necessary to destroy the object of his anger. The Hulk may be nearly mindless, but he will never be thwarted in his quest. He is nearly a force of Nature, and able to exact his revenge as we always wished we could.

As A Character

Image by Darrren Hester via Flickr

Though not as complex as may superheroes, the Hulk’s focus is what makes him great. He is our raging, unfettered Id turned loose in the way we both wish for and fear. Hulk does what we cannot, and pays the price for it. We hope Banner finds his peace, yet delight every time picks up another boulder to hurl. Even the gentlest of us have wanted to unleash like the Hulk at times because, as he so eloquently puts it, “Hulk Smash!”

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When I was a kid if I started a book, I finished a book.  I’m not sure why but it felt like quitting if you didn’t finish the whole thing, a failure.  The problem of course is that you’ll spend a lot of time reading stuff you don’t like or stuff that’s simply crap. 

It took me a long time to be able to give up on a book and I still have some problems.  Like when is it too soon to give up?  Or when is it too late to give up?  Recently I started reading a book called Serpent in the Thorns by Jeri Westerson.  The cover claims it was a medieval noir (both things I like) but I didn’t find it to really be either.  The main character, in his second novel here, is a dispossessed knight who now works as The Tracker.  I guess he’s called The Tracker because there were no PI’s in the 1300’s. 

I kept giving it one more chapter for things to heat up until I was halfway through the book.  I’m not going to finish it.  If you like J.A. Jance and Patricia Cornwell type books this one might be right up your alley. But that’s not my bag, baby!  I stopped reading it and I’m okay with that. 

I’ve noticed a trend lately in the non-fiction books I’ve read: telling a story amongst the facts, figures and research.  I’m not sure if it’s just the kinds of books I have been drawn to recently or if it’s indicative of the non-fiction for mass consumption space in general (I would exclude textbooks and technical books from the list).

My first example (and a book that I am currently in the midst of reading) is “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” by Michael Pollan.  The author does a great job of drawing the reader into the journey that he undertakes while still providing plenty of facts based on personal research.

Another prime example is “Predictably Irrational” by Dan Ariely.  By examining the science behind human social behaviour, the author immediately taps into situations that the reader can identify (and identify with) in his or her own life.

“Stiff”, “Spook” and “Bonk” by Mary Roach all exhibit the kind of narrative that defines a good story while shedding light on things that everyone contemplates at one time or another: death, post-death and sex.

If you know of any other authors that weave a story within a non-fiction work, please post a comment.  I’d love to hear about them.

Last night I had the pleasure of sipping one of the finest Cabernet Sauvignons I’ve ever tried. It wasn’t terribly expensive (less than $10 a bottle), yet its qualities surpass many which sell for far more. A person doesn’t often stumble upon a treasure like this, so needless to say, I’m going back to the store where I purchased the wine and stocking up on few more bottles. After all, it’s these sorts of unexpected surprises that help make life interesting.

The same could be said of certain books I’ve encountered over the years. While it’s never a waste to familiarize yourself with “the classics” or other novels that are regarded as important or noteworthy, some of the best books I’ve read (and ones that I often go back to and reread simply for the pleasure of experiencing the stories once again) would be considered by many readers to be rather obscure. Here a few of my favorites:

The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner. Garner is a superb fantasy writer who remains somewhat unknown and underrated in the United States. In many ways, this novel foreshadows the blend of fantasy and reality that J.K. Rowling made famous in the Harry Potter series. I picked up The Weirdstone… on a whim back in high school (I had just read The Lord of the Rings and thought the picture of the wizard on the cover was cool), and since then, I’ve read every Garner book I could find, including the sequel, The Moon of Gomrath. Elidor is another great Garner novel, as is The Owl Service.

The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic. Here’s a novel I read for a college class on American Realism. If I ever go back and work on a PhD., I will do my dissertation on Frederic. Read this book and you’ll realize that, although times have changed, clergymen never do; truly, there are no new temptations under the sun. Frederic’s writing has all the gritty realism of a Stephen Crane with a touch of Mark Twain-esque humor thrown in to keep the story lively. Fans of classic American literature will enjoy this one.

The Good Men: A Novel of Heresy by Charmaine Craig. Based on an actual court case in medieval France involving a religious sect who claimed that human desires are innately evil, here’s a novel which transports the reader into a world marked by superstitions and inquisitions. Period details and religious questioning bring characters to life who are profoundly (and disturbingly) human. It’s a must read for lovers of historical fiction.

Gertrude and Claudius by John Updike. Ever wonder what prompted Claudius to murder his older brother and thus acquire both his former sister-in-law and the throne of Demark? Updike imagines a prequel to Shakespeare’s Hamlet which brings new life and insight into some of the Bard’s most famous tragic characters.

Black Robe by Brian Moore. While many novels immerse readers in different times and places, this one does it superbly. A seventeenth century Jesuit missionary is sent to the New World to convert the natives to Christianity. In the end, it is the priest who is transformed. The 1991 film version of the book is worth a look, too, as is Moore’s novella, Catholics (one of David Foster Wallace’s favorite books).

These are but a handful of my favorite—albeit obscure—literary treasures. What are yours?

So you’ve finished the latest draft of the epistle you’ve been slaving over for longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s a short story, or a novel or screenplay, doesn’t matter – it’s the baby you’ve been nursing along. And now you’ve gotten feedback. Of course it included some positive comments, that’s de rigueur for a critique. You might have heard the piece had a strong voice, great descriptions, likeable characters, interesting topic, a fresh story. But what to do with the conflicting criticisms? One reader wanted more mystery and suspense. Another wanted more drama and romance while someone else thought the love angle was gratuitous and a third was disappointed you didn’t elaborate on the bedroom scene. Everybody commented about too much detail here, it dragged in the middle and the ending was rushed. The pickiest reader said the motivations didn’t jive with the characters.

 Where to now, Kemo Sabe?  You may be the leader of the party, but the combined critiques are like a maze and you’re not sure which way to turn to work your way through to the end. Do you put the piece in the freezer and think, “I’ll come back to it later?” Or, just ditch the whole thing and chalk it up to a learning experience? The only way to answer those questions is whether the story hangs on. If it haunts you, follows you around at the grocery story, wakes you in the night, then it’s better to plow through.  So how to restart, refocus and re-energized, you ask?

 1.  Go back to the germ that sparked the story. What did you want to say, and why? That’s how to decide if it’s a mystery, thriller, drama, or romance. Let the seed take root, grounding you in the genre and don’t be afraid to prune the sappers that compete with the core theme.

 2.  Decide whose story it is. Reconnect with the main characters. They can free you from worrying about what’s got to happen to move the plot along.  You know what you want to say, but you don’t have to know what will happen to get the message across. The characters can lead you to the plot points, if you let them.

 3.  Read the first page carefully. Does it echo back to the kernel?  Does the essence of your character make contact with the reader in the first paragraph?  Don’t move on until you can see the story and the characters clearly in the first chapter.  If you can’t get it there, then pick a place where the character’s voice resonates. That’s your best starting point.

 4.  Allow yourself the luxury of falling in love again, with the message, with the characters, and with the process. Slow down, take your time, and don’t rush to the ending. You’ve got a life time because writing has no retirement date, no expirations, and no cancellations. It’s got the longest shelf life of any avocation or hobby, whichever way you choose to define it.

 The pleasure of writing is in the process, not the product. So relax and enjoy it.

 And, remember, it’s always the first draft, not matter how many times you’ve written it.

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This is the third in my series taking about superhero characters. In my kickoff post I explained how in some ways they are the modern Gods – created in our image to put into stories to help us understand ourselves better. This time I’m looking at Spider-Man, the wall clinging misfit who has bigger struggles outside his mask than inside it.

The Hero

Young, unpopular, picked-on science student Peter Parker is bitten by a radioactive spider while on a field-trip. He discovers he has gained incredible strength, lightning reflexes, and the power to climb walls. He basically does whatever a spider can. He even builds web-shooters so he can spin a web, any size. Hiding under a mask, he enters a local wrestling show where he easily wins the cash prize. Cocky and no longer wanting to be pushed around, he doesn’t intervene when a robber rushes past him. The robber then kills Peter’s beloved Uncle Ben, the man who raised him. Stricken with grief, Peter vows to use his power to help people and dons the mask of Spider-Man.

Why we love him

Spider-Man is every geeky, awkward student who struggled to fit in and pay his bills, forever knowing he had something more amazing and wonderful inside him than anyone realized.

Peter Parker is a great character apart from his powers. He is brilliant, designing web shooters (in the comics, anyway) that fill in a missing power, and working with some leading scientists and researchers (even thought they have an odd habit of turning into Spider-Man’s enemies). He is also a talented photographer, selling pictures to one of the largest newspapers in New York. Count the number of pages where you see Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent versus their spandex alter-egos, then compare it to how often you see Peter Parker. He is an honest, interesting character by himself and as a result can get more page time than Spider-Man.

Going further, Spider-Man’s powers are almost irrelevant to what makes him such a compelling character. There are no spider traits that infuse his personality. It’s not his ability to stick to walls that makes him special, it’s that he has an incredible secret and it’s hard for him to handle. If he could fly or shoot fire out of his eyes, he would still be the quiet nerd, never quite winning the battle but always struggling.

As A Character

Image by Travis Seitler via Flickr

Spider-Man is every kid who felt out of place or picked on in school, but knew deep inside that he was something better than everyone else suspected. Which is probably almost every kid at one time or another. It is this combination of awkwardness and amazing that Sam Raimi captured so well in his movie. Spider-Man broke open superhero movies to the mainstream exactly because it focused on the character, and made Peter so personable, so human.

In some ways Peter Parker was every comic book loving fanboy as they were growing up – quasi-loners peeking into this amazing world of heroes and battles that they couldn’t share with others. It gave those young nerds a connection that they we shared this inner struggle and self-doubt, and that it was only a chance encounter with a radioactive arachnid that separated them from their friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.

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Cover via Amazon

I’ve read most of Stephen King’s work and liked most of it too.  The Mist was a good one, one of his better ones actually.  When I heard Frank Darabont was going to make a movie out of it I figured it would make a pretty good movie.  After all the guy clearly has a talent for making flicks out of King’s tales.  Maybe you’ve heard of a little film called the Shawshank Redemption.  Anyway for whatever reason I missed it in theaters (that happens to me a lot) and just got a chance to watch the DVD.

Holy freaking crap!  Sorry, that’s for the end.  Let me start at the beginning.  The story on the surface is a straight up monster flick.  A terrible storm in the night brings an odd fog bank in the morning.  Dave Drayton, our hero, takes his son and neighbor to the supermarket and while there the mist sweeps over the whole town.  But of course the mist isn’t the real problem.  The real problem is the hideous monsters that live in it.  Clearly, none of them belong on this planet and all of them appear to be killers.

If that’s all it was it would just be a monster flick, fun but probably not very scary.  The other layer and the real meat of the story is how the situation affects the people trapped in the store.  At first it feels a little like a Twilight Zone episode but as things get more dire (and things get into the store) it progresses to more of a Lifeboat, and then degrades quickly into Lord of the Flies.  All of this is very well done.  The movie is longer than most thriller types but well paced.  A slow burn beginning with no real explanation of the mist.  Then tension keeps cranking up until the good guys have to decide which is more dangerous, staying in the store or taking their chances in the mist.  They decide to take their chances.  They have to fight for their lives to leave and see how far a tank of gas will get them.  All of this plays pretty much as it did in the novella which brings us to the end…

Holy freaking crap!  I won’t spoil the ending in case you haven’t seen it.  I will say that the ending of the novella was purposefully vague.  Dave and his small group of survivors just keep driving off into the mist desperate but clinging to a very small sliver of hope.  The story itself acknowledges the ending and more or less says ’sorry, it ain’t satisfying but that’s how it went’.  Darabont decided to go for something a little more definite.  It’s not a happy ending but it’s powerful and it fit the story he had told.  It’s also one of the ballsiest endings I’ve seen in a good long while and I have no idea how he talked a studio into it.  However he managed it I’m glad he did.  If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it.

Over the weekend, I watched the Oscar-nominated (Best Motion Picture of the Year & Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen) film, “A Serious Man“.  The cast is a great mix of instantly recognizable veteran actors and fresh faces, each attached to a well-developed character, no matter the amount of screen time.  The visuals of the Midwest of 1967 ably draw you in, giving a frame of reference for the intertwined story of father and son, Larry and Danny Gopnik, each propelled toward a crossroads in life.

The Coen brothers are as much master craftsmen of the screenplay as they are of the film as a whole.  Each conversation that takes place feels very natural while also advancing the story at a carefully measured pace.  The only time any of the characters is played against the expected is when they are involved in one of the dream sequences that are sprinkled throughout.  And, while I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the Jewish customs portrayed, it felt as though each i was dotted and t was crossed without becoming pedantic.  In other words, I felt that I was given enough information that I could follow along without breaking the flow of the story.

One deftly wielded technique that is used almost to perfection is the passage of time that occurs out of view of the two main characters (I cannot recall any scenes that did not involve at least one of them).  Minor characters go off and take part in activities that we only learn about when their orbits reconnect with the main storyline.  As in life, we, as observers of the main character’s view, are only aware of those things that occur elsewhere when we are told about them secondhand, and then only to the detail that others are willing to share.  There is likely a whole other movie that could be made, entitled “Uncle Arthur’s Off Screen Adventures”.

If you enjoy wordsmithing or witty dialogue, pay particular attention to the scenes between Larry and the Korean student or the student’s father (there are two of the former and one of the latter).  Subtly delivered, they are darkly comedic gold.

These are tough times in the world of education. It seems hard to believe that just a few short years ago a person with solid teaching credentials could get a job practically anywhere. (Or at least this was true in the part of the country where I live.) How quickly things have changed. With cities and states across the country now facing draconian budget cuts, schools are downsizing, classes are growing larger, and the demands on teachers are increasing exponentially. In spite of this, I still love teaching, although my antagonism toward schools continues to grow. (And no, this is not a contradiction). Part of my frustration is the schizophrenic nature of American education. Historically, we have never truly decided what sort of students we want to produce. Should schools concentrate on teaching people or tasks? Do we want workers or do we want citizens? Can we have both?

Mark Slouka addresses this issue in his article, “Dehumanized: When Math and Science Rule the School” (Harper’s Magazine, September, 2009). In it, he chronicles the process by which American education has been usurped by the worlds of science and commerce (especially commerce which, in our society, ultimately controls the funding of scientific research). He also raises questions about the effect such a narrow academic approach has on people’s ability to act as soulful, discerning human beings who are able to challenge the status quo and move our society toward its more democratic ideals.

Much of Slouka’s article focuses on the American tendency to equate good education with the ability to earn a lucrative income and grow the nation’s ever-expanding GDP. The study of the arts, for example, is seen not as a way to explore the potential of human creativity as much as it is to develop thinkers that industry can use to maintain our country’s dominance in the fields of business and technology. Slouka asks, “Why is every Crisis in American Education cast as an economic threat and never a civic one? In part, because we don’t have a language for it. Our focus is on the usual economic indicators. There are no corresponding ‘civic indicators,’ no generally agreed-upon warning signs of political vulnerability, even though the inability of more than two thirds of our college graduates to read a text and draw rational inferences could be seen as the political equivalent of runaway inflation or soaring unemployment” ( 37).

When economic times get rough, political pundits exert pressure on the educational establishment to narrow its curricular scope to only those standards that are quantifiable. But as Slouka notes, “By downsizing what is most dangerous (and most essential) about our education, namely the deep civic function of the arts and the humanities, we’re well on the way to producing a nation of employees, not citizens. Thus the world is made safe for commerce, but not safe. We’re pounding swords into cogs” (33). For Slouka, the key to maintaining a soundly functioning democracy is to produce well-educated and well-reasoned citizens. A broad education facilitates this, because the “humanities, done right, are the crucible within which our evolving notions of what it means to be fully human are put to the test; they teach us, incrementally, endlessly, not what to do but how to be” (36-7).

As an English teacher, my sensibilities fall on the side of the humanities. (No big surprise there.) While I understand that part of good Language Arts instruction is producing people capable of composing letters and business proposals that make sense to readers, I believe it is also essential that I provide opportunities for my students to expand their thinking outside realms of office cubicles and spreadsheets. After all, if the prevailing economic mission for American schools is to churn out drones, its intellectual imperative is to produce thinking human beings who will challenge the assumptions of the “suits” who occupy the lofty corner offices and dictate the terms of their economic futures. But then again, that’s dangerous thinking—the kind that gets people thrown into prison in societies less tolerant than ours.

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