Response to "A Jungle of Bamboo is Growing atop the Met"

This article was fairly short, so I figure I'll keep my response short as well.

Despite only being two pages long, I feel I got a lot of relevant information from the article - rules, artists, design, purpose. All-in-all, a nice feature of a coming artistic attraction. At first, I was wondering whether or not the piece would shift its focus towards the Starn brothers, or at least have a mini-profile of them within the larger profile of the exhibit. I'm glad it didn't. It was enjoyable reading an article with few twists and turns. Vogel stuck to her story and didn't stray from the focus of the piece.

Week 5 Reading Response

Of this week's readings - "First Family of Astoria," "Memory," and ""Telling True Stories - part 4" - I was most intrigued by Tracy Kidder's "Memory."

I really like how the piece was organized; in the first several opening pages, different scenes are described, and each scene features the comings and goings of a different nursing home resident. For me, this really painted a picture of the nursing home itself and the characters residing there. In fact, initially, I thought this was a profile of the nursing home as an institution, as an assembly of elderly citizens stricken with memory problems/other health concerns.

Then the piece turns towards two characters and their relationship/memories/stories/histories (there are so many ways to say it) - Lou and Joe. I really like that the piece frames their relationship with initial introductions of the nursing home itself, as well as other patients; made the story matter more to me.

I was okay with the short excerpt describing how memory fades in old age - how there's no biological cause but there are psychological symptoms. It was short enough and descriptive enough where I didn't feel it interrupted the flow of the piece, and was in fact adequately informative.

"First Family of Astoria" didn't do much for me as a reader. It's both a profile of the family, and through the family's history, a profile of the town they live in. Ultimately, however, I was left wondering why I should care. I suppose it was interesting to read about such an eccentric group of people, but I felt disconnected.

Response to "Man of Extremes: The Return of James Cameron"

"Man of Extremes: the Return of James Cameron," has some nice insight into Cameron's personal and professional lifestyles. I'm glad it gives a semi-detailed back history of his previous films, and how he got started in the business.

In terms of how it's written, however, I'm not sure I like how the body of the article is broken up. Obviously, in an article this size, there will be instances where the writing will be at a juxtaposition to the information of the previous paragraph, but Dana Goodyear takes it to extremes I'm not comfortable with.

For example, each chunk of paragraphs could be a profile all its own. Then, when the next paragraph begins, it takes you through another set of facts and observations concerning James Cameron that could stand on their own as a separate profile. I don't like how its broken up at such disjunctures - shouldn't the paragraphs feed into one another to make a smoother article?

Time and space are also separate in this kind of organization. Some paragraphs are given in real time as they've been observed, others are in the past, and then, in the subsequent paragraph, time is shifted again - we're back in the past where we've already been, and we're drawn through to the present and left at the exact same place the previous paragraph concluded. Why not tell Cameron's story more linearly?

Week 5 Feature Article - The Chameleon

Here's my feature for this week.

The Chameleon

It's a profile of Frédéric Bourdin, a french con-man who poses/blends in as any number of international youths/adolescents. I know its rather long, and for that I apologize, but as I was reading, I lost myself in the story - felt like a quick read.

Bourdin's story is ... well, really out there. It reads like a "Catch Me If You Can" scenario (you guys have seen that movie, right?), but strangely, more intense. I assume I feel that way because Bourdin, who during some parts of the story is in his 30's, is posing as one or more children. In one instance, he convinces multiple authorities that he is the missing child of a drug-addled, American family living in San Antonio. This event is explicitly analyzed in the piece, and is the most far-fetched of Bourdin's "accomplishments."

The mini-profiles of the American family and the mystery surrounding the disappearance of their 13-year-old son (whom Bourdin impersonates) add to the incredulous nature of the story. That Bourdin allows David Grann to follow his life and detail his morally ambiguous exploits is surprising in itself.

Then again, I suppose this story is about closure for specific individuals, about finding direction or purpose in life. In the context of Bourdin's moral ambiguity, it concludes as a tale of redemption (kind of). I suppose the only complicating factor of the story was the sheer number of characters - from Bourdin's many identities, to the members of his "adoptive" American family, as well as the number of detectives and federal agents involved in the case, it was admittedly difficult keeping them all straight. Regardless, Grann's piece is, in my opinion, an excellent read. Hope you enjoy it. Looking forward to our chat on Wednesday.

Response to "Girls Girls Girls"

I was going through my documents and I realized I never posted this response. Well, it's pretty late, so I probably won't get the grade, but at least I'll have my thoughts online.

I found this article incredibly pretentious. Seeing that the author labels himself as an elitist, I can't say I'm surprised. My biggest issue, however, was with the time jumps - seriously, I couldn't keep everything straight.

He talks about how sexuality was viewed in different eras, then jumps into a professorial debate over "how creepy is too creepy?" There are sections about his meeting with a former professional ballerina, who ultimately becomes his wife, but you only realize they'd gotten married at the end of the article. Damn. Confusing.

Overall, the topic was fairly interesting - how there's a very gray area concerning sexuality and sexual harassment between students and professors, but he went about it all wrong. Instead of being so blunt and "in-your-grill" about such a seemingly delicate issue, wouldn't it be easier to try to appeal to the reader on some emotional level? Hmmm... honestly, I thought the author was kind of a dick, but I suppose when you're an established, well-paid journalist, you can afford to be so blunt.

Response to "Clash of the Bearded Ones"

There were a lot of great things about this piece - the language utilized, the blatant ironies displayed; the entire idea of a "neighborhood war" between hipsters and Hasids brought a smile to my face.

From a stylistic approach, I really liked the mini-profiles within the larger neighborhood profile. For example, the paragraphs detailing Gottlieb's deli, Baruch Herzfeld and his Unclean Bike Business, even the neighborhood's socioeconomic description are all smaller profiles within the larger article, book-ended by the panel scenes in Pete's Candy Store.

Idov's article reads like I would expect a movie to unfold - cyclical beginnings and endings that ground the story in one specific place, one moment; smaller conflicts and characters housed within the body of the piece. I definitely need to try that out in my own writing; made the piece a very enjoyable read.

Response to "Tormented Doctor Tunrs to Directing"

Like Andrea, I too am a fan of House. Oddly enough, I was watching "The Man in the Iron Mask" - the Leonardo DiCaprio version - and I noticed Hugh Laurie made a brief cameo. Although he was playing a French liaison to King Louie, he was speaking in a British accent. I was admittedly surprised - he speaks so well with an "American" accent.

I'm glad that Bill Carter brought that element of Laurie's persona into the article. There are always certain tricks of the trade (accent, acting styles/preferences) that interest me. Overall, however, I agree with Andrea - a large portion of the article read like a commercial for the show. Personally, I'd rather know more personal details about the actor that I wouldn't realize from watching the show.

Revised Outline for "Black and White"

Conflict: Saint Joseph shames Myles
-Myles sees segregation
-segregation allows inequality
-inequality breeds ignorance
Resolution: Myles accepts Saint Joseph (regardless of faults)

Reading Reponse week 4: The American Man at Age Ten

I really enjoyed Susan Orlean's piece, "The American Man at the Age of Ten." It was told so lightly, so entertainingly that I wish it had been longer. There was no definitive plot, just a series of social observations and quotes gleaned from the mouths of 10-year old boys.

I tried to imagine what I was like at that age; whether or not I fit Orlean's description of Colin. I can't remember if I thought about girls or candy or video games. I honestly can't remember much of anything about that age, which is why I found this piece so engaging. I wanted to remember, to compare myself to Colin and his friends/classmates.

Orlean did an excellent job of putting herself into the piece almost imperceptibly. There were brief instances where she reveals her line of questioning, when she directly asks Colin for information and records his response. Otherwise, she kept the piece about her subject, and tried not to interfere - I respect her effort to remain apart, an anthropological author/journalist.

The most interesting excerpt is on page 107, where Orlean records Colin's quotes, one after the other. You get a sense of the hustle and bustle of that age, the ill-informed information gleaned from parents and television and video games. I think this section accurately characterizes the ideals and perceptions of most ten-year-old, American boys.

One June 16^th, 2003, Benton Harbor resident Terrance Shurn was fleeing local police officer Wes Koza by motorcycle. The high-speed chase ended when Shurn crashed into a vacant building near the city’s center. He died on impact. Terrance was 28 years old. He was black. Koza, his pursuer, was of mixed racial background. Initial reports, however, described Koza as white.

Riots ensued. Approximately 300 Benton Harbor citizens threw rocks and bottles at police cars, flipped pedestrian vehicles, and burned abandoned buildings to the ground. Gunshots were fired at heavily armed S.W.A.T. units who responded to the scene. Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm sent 130 state troopers to Benton Harbor in order to assist local law enforcement. The riots ended two days later and garnered national media attention.

Newspapers, radio programs, brief clips on local news – the story broke everywhere, and accentuated the socioeconomic divide between poverty-stricken Benton Harbor, and its neighboring city, white, affluent Saint Joseph, Michigan. The media blamed the riots on crumbling race relations and long-standing prejudices between the two cities. As a citizen of Saint Joseph, I can’t say I disagree.

In June of 2003, I was 14 years old – an incoming freshman at Saint Joseph High School. Despite the proximity of our two cities – Benton Harbor and Saint Joseph – I knew very little about the riots taking place just miles from my home. I never talked about it with my friends, I never talked about it with my teachers or my parents; there were no announcements made, no guest lecturers or school-wide assemblies. I was in the dark.

But whose fault was it; why didn’t I know about the plight of Benton Harbor, Saint Joseph’s “twin city?” In part I blame myself. I heard rumors; I could’ve picked up a newspaper or turned on the television. But for some reason, the riots seemed so far away – too far for me to care. I also blame Saint Joseph. It was as if a giant curtain had been strung across the city’s Northern border, separating white from black, rich from poor, order from chaos. Somewhere along the line I realized I was embarrassed by my city and the ignorance its citizens displayed. But I was one of those citizens; I, too, was ignorant towards Benton Harbor. Therefore, I found I was dissatisfied with myself and the inconsiderate role I’d inadvertently fulfilled.

But that was the environment I was raised in: wealthy, conservative, and resultantly pretentious. Saint Joseph had a quaint downtown shopping district, a picturesque lighthouse, and a population composed almost entirely of middle to upper class white citizens. Our churches were white and conservative, our banks were white and conservative, our grocery stores and local government were run by white conservatives. Saint Joseph was what Benton Harbor used to be before the ‘60s, when African Americans moved in and rich white people ran away.

Citizens of Saint Joseph saw their town as hard-working and successful, filled with pleasant homes and smiling neighbors. In their minds, Benton Harbor was the opposite – decrepit, decaying, filled with drugs and local gangs. Saint Joseph defines its relationship with Benton Harbor through the following physical, socioeconomic, and socially constructed attributes: (1) the Saint Joseph River, which literally separates the two cities (a visible landmark that keeps things “separate but equal”), (2) the economic divide that splits rich from poor (Saint Joseph’s affluent prestige from the poverty of Benton Harbor), and (3) the color divide that people of either city tend to associate with the aforementioned physical and economic divides. People in Saint Joseph accepted these attributes as undeniable, unchangeable fact. Little was done to address these issues; to know that they existed was enough.

These forms of segregation – physical, socioeconomic, racial – manifested themselves in my high school. In the lunchroom, for example, African American students sat at the same two tables every day. A small number of Asian and Indian students intermingled with whites throughout the rest of the cafeteria – they had been accepted, assimilated into realms of social “whiteness.” While there were no specific instances of outright discrimination against blacks, African American students had clearly been ostracized from the majority of the student body. In this instance, segregation was an everyday occurrence.

Also, it was widely known that Benton Harbor’s academic facilities were in blatant disrepair – students were taught using outdated textbooks, science labs didn’t have the right equipment, teachers and staff were undermanned and underpaid. In comparison, Saint Joseph’s facilities were second to none – we had new textbooks and calculators, an overabundance of high-quality computers, plenty of teachers and supplies, a brand new field house adjacent to our brand new football stadium. Clearly, the segregation of our schools – though never openly enforced – led to massive social inequalities.

In Saint Joseph, however, these inequalities were more or less acceptable; its citizens had little to complain about. And that was how our city justified its ignorance, by hiding behind the “undeniable attributes” that separated the people of Benton Harbor and Saint Joseph.

As an adult, I’ve come to accept the ignorance of my adolescence, and consequently, I’ve made efforts to improve. I’ve also realized that Saint Joseph is not necessarily a bad place; its people are not driven by hatred or malicious intent. Good people live there. They go to good schools and work hard to raise their families in safe neighborhoods, but at times, they are incredibly naïve about their role in the relationship between Benton Harbor and Saint Joseph; they allow themselves to remain ignorant because ignorance is easy. Ignorance allows them to maintain their pleasant lifestyles.

Regardless, Saint Joseph is a part of who I am – I was raised within its boundaries and socialized by its ideals – both good and bad. I can’t deny my upbringing, or the opportunities I’ve been given; I can’t deny the friendships I’ve made, the memories I’ve acquired. Although I disagree with a majority of its socioeconomic standards and perceptions concerning Benton Harbor, I’ve decided to accept Saint Joseph for what it is – my home.

Profile Pitch

For the upcoming profile piece, I wanted to write about a person or place I'm not entirely familiar with; hopefully my curiosity towards the subject will allow me to maintain interest as a writer, and with any luck, will allow you to maintain interest as a reader. At the same time, I wanted to have a fair amount of background information on the topic; in high school, teachers taught me to write what you know - that writing about someone or something you understand will make the story more believable for your audience.

Therefore, I figured I'd head to Monaco Bay (a local dueling piano bar) in search of an interesting topic. But why Monaco Bay; why a bar? Well, I suppose bars are usually fairly busy, which keeps things fun; you can meet all sorts of people at a bar - depressed and alone, tired, ecstatic, celebratory, old, young, male and female, regulars, passersby. Also, I've been playing piano since I was eight years old; the fact that Monaco Bay was a dueling piano bar made it all the more intriguing for me as a writer.

But I knew I didn't want to do a profile of the bar itself - (1) I'm usually broke, and Monaco has an entrance fee for weekend shows (it's a classy joint), and (2) there's just too much fun/crazy going on for me to get at the "heart" of the place in just a couple weeks. Instead, after watching several piano players go through a set or two, I decided to pick out a specific piano player, and write my profile piece on him or her.

I talked with Brian Gilbert, the general manager, and asked if he'd allow me to write about one of his players. He was very agreeable; after all, what business manager doesn't want free publicity? I asked him if there was any piano player in particular that would make for an interesting profile. He went through the lineup and talked up the musicians. I decided on Tim Cutting. Brian said he'd been a pianist at Monaco Bay since its conception, and that he would be leaving in two weeks for another piano-playing job in Chicago.

I waited until Tim was done with his set and spoke with him off-stage. He gave me his phone number and said he'd be down for the whole shebang involved in writing an accurate profile piece (huzzah! - access acquired).

I think this profile could be a look-back from Tim's perspective, a "this is where I started, and this is where I ended up" sort-of-thing. Since he'll be leaving for a better job opportunity, I'm guessing he'll find these last two weeks of playing at Monaco Bay bittersweet. There's an inherent conflict in such a drastic change of location/vocation, especially after putting so much of his time and effort into making the bar an enjoyable, entertaining environment.

I recently wrote an article on local music for the school paper, and have access to several local bands (i.e. Kzoo's local music scene). I've also been in several bands; I've played shows in Niles, South Bend, Saint Joseph, South Haven, and Kalamazoo. I know how it feels to get up in front of people and play an instrument you love - nervous excitement, the "stage high" some musicians get while performing, the relief once it's over, and the desire to turn around and do it again the very next night. I know how it feels to stop playing music with the same people; to quit a band and head out on your own (though not in so drastic a fashion as Tim). Consequently, I think I can write this profile. I think I can write it accurately (musical/bar-scene perspective) and truthfully (Tim's perspective), and I think I can keep my audience invested in the story that unfolds.

So sorry! When I selected a link for a feature article this week, I made three mistakes: (1) it didn't realize the article was actually a book report [it doesn't read like one for the entirety of the first page], (2) The last paragraph of the first page read as a fairly solid conclusion; consequently, I didn't realize the article was five pages long and turned into a book report, and (3) I only realized my mistakes yesterday afternoon as I went through and analyzed the article piece by piece. Therefore, I've posted a new article for you to read. Incredibly sorry it's such short notice, but I'll print out several copies and bring them to class.

The article concerns overseas journalists and objects they've collected from their travels/stories. Should still provide for an interesting conversation. Also, I can't figure out how to make a direct link from this post to the article itself. I suppose you'll just have to copy and paste the url. Whoops.

Oh, and in conclusion, I'm an idiot.

http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2010/04/19/100419ta_talk_mcgrath

Week 3 Response to Writing For Story

My favorite sections of Writing For Story were "The New School for Writers" and "Stalking the True Short Stories." There were a few short lines I circled. For example, "...the short story was the greatest training ground that literature has ever known. For a hundred years it provided both a livelihood and a classroom for almost every major American writer" (Franklin, 23).

I never thought of short stories like that. I've never had a class concerning short stories, I've never been told they were anything more than fluff - the building grounds for fiction, novels, colossal works of prose. Who knew they were so important; that the greatest American writers perfected their craft by writing short stories - changes my perspective on writing, on being a writer.

Also, "...human action is taken for one purpose and one purpose only, which is to solve a complication. Without complications we would all be as inert as stop signs" (Franklin, 74). So that's the heart of narrative, of story - complication. Writing without complication isn't just boring, it's not true, it's not alive. But what isn't complicated; what in life is too simple to write about. I suppose that means I should search for the conflict in story. I should seek it out and detail it, delve into its knowns and unknowns, break it apart and resolve it. If I do that, and do it effectively, will I be a better writer?

current feature story

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2010/04/12/100412crbo_books_sanneh

Here's my week 3 link to a current feature story from The New Yorker. Talks about race and racism, media outlets, the essence of "whiteness," Glenn Beck, Things White People Like, etc. Should make for an interesting discussion. Enjoy.

Reading Response Week 2: Anthropological Journalism

I enjoyed Mark Kramer’s article, “Breakable Rules for Literary Journalists,” especially because he lists the rules one at a time in easy-to-see italics. Frankly, his piece reads like a guide to an anthropological text, study, and research methodology. For example, “immerse [yourself] in subjects’ worlds and in background research,” “write from a disengaged and mobile stance,” and “write mostly about routine events” are principles stressed in introductory anthropology and sociology classes. Kramer speaks about “reporting” – a term designated for journalists – and “fieldwork” – a term utilized most frequently by anthropologists and sociologists – synonymously. I suppose, at its core, literary journalism consists of the narration of sociological events or trends. So what’s the difference; in literary journalism the author is creatively expressing the common, routine events around him or her, rather than scientifically narrating scenes or events in black and white, factual terminology? Are they different because journalists use more of a voice, and integrate their personality into a piece? Personally, I enjoy a creatively written newspaper or magazine article to the oftentimes drab, robotic voice of anthropological and sociological studies. Maybe that’s the difference – journalists are writing for an audience composed of different people who don’t know all the scientific terminology, while anthropologists and sociologists are writing for an audience of like-minded, academics who have a detailed understanding of the subject at hand.

Response to Jessica's First Assignment

Personal essays are supposed to center around a particular issue, a theme relevant to the author’s personal experience as well as society-at-large. When I began reading Jessica’s essay, I seemed fairly obvious that her topic was anorexia. ‘Nuff said. As I continued, however, I began to think the subject of her piece was something more… maybe. When she wrote about her therapy sessions, how she “stopped talking about eating during them,” I wondered whether her focus was more on the inadequacy of psychological therapists, or psychology in general. She talks about discussing other things – school, stress, problems with her family. It seems that Jessica had already come to terms with her immediate problem, but where would her essay end? What would it mean to her audience (namely me – I’m very selfish).

Here’s a portion of her final paragraph: “I went to my last session, talked about my final exams and plans for the summer, and then left the office.” The essay ends with a calming vision of the sun, “gleaming in a calm, blue sky.” Such a peaceful, freeing ending, seems to indicate a resolution to the problem at hand, which ultimately, should be the focus of her piece. If anorexia is an existent struggle, then what conflict was resolved? Perhaps her dislike of therapy and therapists was the conflict. Perhaps their inability to “cure” her eating disorder was contemplating. Then again… perhaps not.

Response to Steven's "My Grandfather's World Was Round"

As Steven acknowledged in his blog post, they are certain brands of punctuation utilized in “My Grandfather’s World Was Round” that were initially off-putting. Without any previous knowledge of his writing style, I was unaware that his dialogue was written without quotes. Again, he defends his style in a subsequent post: “I don’t use quotation marks to signify dialogue, because I think they look weird and break up the flow of a sentence’s aesthetics, so I use a capital letter instead to signify the start of dialogue. I also don’t separate it out from the structure of the paragraph.” I appreciate his attempts at literary experimentation, but I assume the average reader would fail to recognize his efforts as purely academic, efforts made for the purpose of “a sentence’s aesthetics.”

Steven’s subject was intriguing, however. Combining his relationship with his grandfather (or lack thereof) with his grandfather’s Alzheimer’s, the eras he lived through, the type of man he strived to be – self-made and self-sufficient – made his story particularly interesting. Ultimately, the piece focused on an entire generation of like-minded individuals: “The general consensus is that men like him advanced this country while they were young and hinder it now that they are old…” According to Steven, their net worth was zero; they merely existed. Consequently, what hope do the rest of us have? Do we just simply exist? Should we “do something better” with our time?