George Bush and Bruce Wayne- a juxtaposition

Comics, as it turns out, are not juvenile books that are read purely on the basis of ones own geekiness.  As I’ve recently discovered, comics can be solely informational. As a matter of fact, they can be about serious political and emotional events.  The 9/11 Report, a “graphic adaptation” of the terrorist attacks that occurred on September 11, 2001, is (as the title states) a chronologically organized report of what went wrong that day.  Now, there are two contention points when it comes to this graphic novel: the form, and the content.  As we’ve learned via illustration from the always-colorful comics textbook, they must be taken as separate entities.

As I’ve explored the first chapter of the report, it’s been intriguing to find a balance between the information being delivered, and the pictures being shown.  As a rookie comic book reader, I have no choice but to completely digress from the content when looking at the pictures— taking a momentary step into the world of Batman or Tintin— and then returning to the tragic events being described.  For instance, there is a picture depicting the fight between the terrorists and the passengers of Flight 93.  In the text bubbles, the tone of braveness and severity is portrayed clearly: “Hold on! He’s not going to stop us!” On the other hand, the illustration shows a gory and extremely bloody fight between the two parties, where it is hard to distinguish the Arab terrorists from the American passengers. I’m not suggesting that the author racially profiles to make a clear cut visual depiction of the Middle Easterners, but, taken by itself, the picture could be placed in the above mentioned Batman or Tintin, and look natural. Furthermore, in my close-minded interpretation of 9/11, there are no illustrations that can fully encompass the pain felt by an entire nation that day.

By no means is this a critique to the book.  It is simply my initial reaction to a comic dedicated to serious events: awe.

New York Times lullaby

Sleep.  People need to sleep, that’s no surprise.  However, how much do they need to sleep? According to an article from the New York Times, adults need to sleep nine hours a day.  By that logic, an adult that has a nine-to-five job needs to go to sleep at 10 pm every weeknight.  Lets take a moment to picture that.  Parents worldwide would precede their children in bedtime status.  Spaniards would eat at a normal time— or lose a lot of weight. Sporting events would only be seen until halftime. Late night NYT articles would be read only in the morning, when they’ve already been rendered obsolete. Of course, the article mentions the health and nutrition aspect of this idyllic sleep-captivated world.  What then, would become of the quality of life? The intangible moments of joy that occur past dusk?

In my opinion, while sleep is necessary, and I’m all for sleeping a lot, the article loses sight of the pitfalls of becoming rigid.  One part of the article is about health, the other is about habits. Or at least, that’s the way it should’ve been. Instead, the author blurs the observational studies conducted at research institutes, with the advice that she gives for readers. This creates a sort of regulating tone.  All she had to say at the end was “go to bed, it’s late.”

As proof of why it isn’t good to sleep too much, look at what happens to Dwyane Wade and Kevin Durant when they oversleep…

Vocab and SAT words to boot

People read for different reasons.  When I was in the fifth grade, I read three Harry Potter books in a week; the plot intrigued me.  Now, I’m reading a book about golf.  As dazzling as golf can be, reading about golf isn’t really exciting.  Why then, is John Updike— in my humble opinion— a genius? He can write about golf (and tea) so smoothly, and brilliantly, that reading becomes an exercise in vocabulary and lexicon.  As a student, I know the word pathos. But how many times has pathos appeared in a book you’ve read? How about swales?  Or, whittled? Litany? Pronate? Abject? Duffer? Somatic? Formica? Odious? Sauntering? And my favorite: terribilità?

Swales: (noun) a low or hollow place, esp. a marshy depression between ridges.

Whittled: (verb) carve into an object by repeatedly cutting small slices from it.

Litany: (noun) a series of petitions for use in church services or processions, usually

recited by the clergy and responded to in a recurring formula by the people.

Pronate: walk or run with most of the weight on the inside edge of the feet.

Abject: (of a person or their behavior) completely without pride or dignity

Duffer: (noun) an incompetent or stupid person, esp. an elderly one

Somatic: (adj) of or relating to the body, esp. as distinct from the mind.

Formica: (noun) a hard durable plastic laminate used for countertops, cupboard doors, and other surfaces.

Odious: (adj) extremely unpleasant; repulsive

Sauntering: (verb) walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort

Terribilità: (noun) awesomeness or emotional intensity of conception and execution in an artist or work of art, originally as a quality attributed to Michelangelo by his contemporaries.

Now, if you’d like, go and study these words. Maybe you’ll get a perfect SAT score

TEA

Sometimes, as a reader, I get confused.  Sometimes, as a reader, I am surprised.  Never, as a reader, have I gotten this.  Let me now take you by the hand, and attempt to show you the biggest literary shocker I’ve ever encountered.

On the cover page of a book titled Golf Dreams, there is an elderly man— not old, elderly— he is wearing a typical loose golf cap, white-on-white golf shoes, and he’s swinging what looks like a 1990’s low wedge with the flexibility of an old man.  In the background, there are neatly lined trees, some forest green while others start to turn yellow, and a clear blue sky.  Given that I’ve played golf for a long time— enough time to swear that I’ve played with a man with the same worn out look— I now the kind of crowd that would read a golf book.  Golf magazines are extremely conservative (they probably have a target reading audience aged 60 and up) so I can only imagine the kind of crowd a book would attract.  Seeing this cover, and consequently judging it, I expected an insipid and dry series of golf tips, stories, and suggestions.  Upon reading the preface to the book, much of what I expected was confirmed.  The author likes golf, his best handicap days are behind him, he has enough free time to read about what he likes, and he has money to spend on trying to compensate his rusty swing with expensive clubs (he constitutes the target audience of the book). 

As I began reading the first chapter, I was taken aback. Without any sort of precursor to the oddity, he dedicated the first segment of the book (reminder: the book is title Golf Dreams) to tea.  Yes, tea the hot beverage. In a detailed sermon that touched upon technique, essence, math, practicality, and snobbishness, the author wrote, “drinking from a cup made cinchy”. *  For the sake if your mental sanity and the point I’m trying to make, I’ll share one sentence. “Without any thought on your part, this syndrome of actions will lead the cup and saucer to descend along a parabolic line whose equation on Cartesian Coördinates is 2x = y^2.”

List of things that are weird in this sentence:

1.     The use of unnecessarily complicated words or phrases.

a.     Syndrome of actions

2.     The mentioning of both the cup, and the saucer

3.     Not clear use of some kind of humor (or just being pretentious)

a.     Descend along a parabolic line

4.     Saying coördinates instead of coordinates

a.     I can perfectly imagine the man on the cover pronouncing every word with an accent that goes with this word.

So, there you have it: a book about…Golf.

*Cinch(y): an extremely easy task