Introspections

So I recently found an old journal I kept on my computer a few years ago. It's mostly boring stuff like what I did that day but every once in awhile I was particularly...shall we say chatty? I have run across some stuff that I figured I'd put up here since I'm too lazy to write a proper blog and too immersed in keeping up with the grueling demands of my one book a month that I'm reading for my book club (only got halfway through this month's selection) to read any of the books on my list.

So, as I sift through the journal I'll post whatever I think might be amusing. What's scary about what I'm posting today is that even though I only wrote it like 3 years ago I barely remember it at all. So if nothing else this blog may be a record of what I used to think when my brain was still functioning.

Enjoy...

The End of Innocence
or
There Were Early Warning Signs
By: Lori Cain

I have this tendency to feel trapped. Even when I know I'm the reason I'm in a situation -- through choices. One of my earliest memories of feeling trapped?
You know how in grade school there are these really strange indicators of popularity? Things that are "cool?" Well, in first grade, one of the things that indicated you were cool was if you sat with Suzy [last name removed to protect the innocent] on the bus. She had a sister, Tonya, who was older but I guess she wasn't nearly as cool because I don't really remember ever wanting to sit with her. Tonya wore glasses. You know how it is. I had my sights set on Suzy and, because I was apparently reasonably cool myself, I was a frequent seat-mate of hers.

I was the slyest, most conniving little kid. I really was, it's kind of disturbing. Anyway, I set up an elaborate scheme to become Suzy's exclusive seat-mate. I was in class and it was someone's birthday which meant that the person had to bring in a bag of candy to share with the class. It got late that day so the treat dispensing didn't happen until mere minutes before the bell rang. It was chaotic because people were already shoving their shit back in their desk and this little girl was running around frantically handing out these bright red cherry suckers. I loved those suckers. I couldn't help but notice that even the students who were absent that day had suckers on their desks. I couldn't help but take advantage of the end-of-day hubbub and sidle up to the desks of absent students and steal their suckers.
I now had three bright red cherry suckers. Ever the capitalist, I pocketed two of the suckers, accepting the 100% profit with satisfaction. But the third sucker? Oh, I had plans for that sucker.

On the bus heading home, I casually flashed my extra sucker to the little girls in the seats nearest me. Today Suzy was sitting with a skinny red-headed girl named Wanda, whom I inexplicably hated. All the girls were excited and immediately began begging me for the sucker. I relished the attention. I was coy. I accidentally let it drop that I had two more suckers in my pocket and Tonya pointed out that I was being a total selfish bitch (in a less offensive, first-grade venacular.) I gave her a cold look. Suzy very much wanted the sucker and negotiations began. "You can have the sucker if you promise to sit only with me for the rest of the school year." Wanda gave me a look as if to say, "what the hell are you playing at?" Suzy was reluctant. She was a really nice kid, which is why everyone liked her. "Well, but that wouldn't be fair to my other friends." My smile became steely. "Those are my terms," (in a less Gordon Gekko, first-grade venacular -- you get the idea.) After much reluctance on her part and relentless, inflexible insistence on mine, ("What about every other day?" "No.") Suzy gave in. I gave Suzy the sucker and if I recall, she ended up sharing it with her friends. She was really nice.

Fast forward to the next day. My victory has been gnawing at me almost since the moment I achieved it. I had to sit with Suzy...every day. EVERY day. What if I didn't want to sit with Suzy? What if I wanted to put my knees up against the seat in front of me and disappear into my coat and look out the window? What if I wanted to sling my legs to the side and read "Ramona Quimby, Age 8" the whole way home? What if I wanted to sit with Wanda? How could I possibly have entered into such an iron-clad contract, why hadn't I insisted on sitting with her every other day instead?
Throughout the school day I plotted for a way to escape the yolk of my horrible agreement. I daydreamed of my mom coming to pick me up outside of the school, I fantasized that Suzy would have forgotten the whole thing, I toyed with the idea of telling the teacher I'd thrown up and needed to go home immediately...

In the end, I escaped the verbal contract in the lowest, most cowardly way possible. I hid from her. Sweating with anxiety, I made sure I was the first person to get on the bus and I quickly went to the very back -- somewhere we first grade girls never went. I slouched down so low in the seat that my head could not be seen from above. I waited and prayed that Suzy's mom had picked her up from school, or that she'd forgotten the whole thing, or that she'd vomited earlier in the day and had to be sent home immediately. I waited. Not usually on the bus so early, the minutes seemed to stretch on forever. Kids started to trickle on, and I got strange looks from the back of the bus regulars. No Suzy yet. For greater security, I decided to actually get off of the seat and sit on the floor, my legs stretched out under the seat in front of me, my lumpy bag serving as a shield for my face.

"Lori!" My blood ran cold.

"Lori!!!" More insistent. "We're sitting together today!" Suzy singsonged.

I could hear her asking our friends if they'd seen me. They hadn't, but they knew I was in school that day. Where had I gotten to? Finally Suzy resorted to walking up and down the aisle. I could hear her getting closer, "Lori?"

She spotted me. I can only imagine what the expression on my face was. Hers was expectant, mildly puzzled -- she looked as though she at first thought I was just being silly old Lori. But the expression on my face stopped her cold. I assume it had a look of dread, terror and self-loathing on it so profound that Suzy immediately understood what was really going on.

"We're supposed to sit together," Suzy said softly -- but she already knew that I was never going to be able to sit with her again.

I don't remember what I said. Probably something lame, something that clung to dignity like, "I don't feel like it," or, "I told so and so I was going to sit with her." My first-grade brain had no idea how to explain the truth -- "I'm sorry Suzy, but I have a crippling fear of committment that seems to have just now manifested. I cannot begin to tell you where it comes from, but I expect this issue is going to cause me more than one awkward situation throughout my life."

I do remember that I hurt her feelings. She got this kind of look on her face like she might cry. I find it odd, even now, that she took my neuroses so personally. I felt like SUCH an asshole. I also felt relieved when she walked away and I stayed in the back of the bus trying not to listen to the whispers and, "what the hell?s" coming from the other girls, my friends. I think I was never really Suzy's friend again after that.

Moral of the story? I really, really, really don't like to be obligated to do anything.
__________________________________________

This journal entry went on and I meandered into some truly strange territory that I'll spare you.

It's book club tonight and I'm returning to the scene of my crime - running over the nice English lady's lawn. I'll let you know how it turns out this time...

The Girl in Hyacinth Blue

The best thing about book clubs is that you are introduced to books you wouldn't have otherwise found. The book club that I'm in now is showing me that I actually have rather narrow tastes. I tend to pick the books that I know I will like, and there are so many of those to choose from that I rarely branch out. The Girl in Hyacinth Blue is a book I would have never read, but I thought it was artfully written and thought provoking.

A Word About my Book Club

I was part of two book clubs in MN and when I got out here I missed them so when I found a notice on the bulletin board of my library asking for new members of a women's book club I called. Then I got dissed. I didn't hear a word and felt sort of pathetic that even a publicly advertised book club didn't want me. Finally though a woman named Kitty called and apologized, she'd been out of town and would love it if I would join. Yay! The first book was called Isaac's Storm and it's another perfect example of a book I'd never have picked out for myself. It was incredible. It is a true story about a hurricane that destroyed Galveston, TX in the early 1900's. It also tells the story about the early days of meteorology - amazing history and a lot more political and intriguing than you'd think.

I was a little nervous when I went to the first club meeting. But the women couldn't have been nicer. Kitty met me at the door proclaiming how happy she was I'd made it and giving me a big hug. I was by far the youngest member. Several of the women are 60+ and there are three in their 40s. One of the women is from London and another is from South Africa. Three of them are doctors. Basically it's a group of totally awesome, interesting ladies - many of them fitting the image of a grandma. And I LOVE grandmas.

Also they're all doing just fine financially.

I live in a nice neighborhood. When Jamie and I tell people where we live they tend to say, "WOW," sometimes enviously, and often with the unspoken question "how do you guys afford that?" And then we clear things up by telling them that we live in a rented garage. The ladies in my book club are legitimate homeowners in my neighborhood and each house I've visited has been more fabulous than the last. It was not long into my book club membership before I started to have twinges of anxiety over when it would be my turn to host. Sure enough, on the third month the gorgeous South African lady with the four story mansion said, "I think we should let Lori have a turn." FUCK!

The month before my turn I volunteered to give several of the ladies a lift since the hosting member Clarey lived in Puyallup - about a 20 minute drive from the neighborhood where the rest of us live. The hostess is the lady whose husband has a business fixing racecars and who has hung out with Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton. Her house was enormous and had a fireplace kind of like the one in Xanadu in Citizen Kane. We had a great time and as we were leaving the ladies in my car started to praise me for driving and expressing their gratitude that they had someone with "young eyes" to get them back and forth from Tacoma. In my defense, the lady's driveway was weird shaped and it was pitch black out. But still, literally as they were saying this I was driving about 200 yards into the middle of the lady's rain-soaked lawn. I was SO far off of the driveway that I practically needed my GPS to get back to it. The woman in the passenger seat started to warn me just as I realized that I was destroying the lady's lawn and she started laughing hysterically. It was...pretty embarrassing.

So the day finally came when I had to host the book club and I fixed up the garage house as best I could. It didn't take long since I basically only have the one room. I vacuumed and put away the cat toys and dusted. I prepared snacks. That night there was what people in Washington call a snowstorm and people in Minnesota call a dusting. All day long I sent emails and VMs back and forth as the ladies decided whether or not to come. Part of me wanted to cancel and part of me just wanted to get it over with. In the end, they came, trudging through the snow because I don't own a shovel. They were extremely gracious, complimenting me on my resourcefulness "How did you FIND this place?" and my excellent taste in location. They loved my snacks and the only really embarrassing part came when the lady whose lawn I destroyed sat in my craigslist piece of shit recliner and practically threw herself through the back wall it rocked backward so dramatically. Oh well. Long story short, the ladies are awesome.

Back to the Book

The Girl in Hyacinth Blue is written by Susan Vreeland. She writes mostly historical fiction about art and artists. This book is about a fictional painting by a real painter - Vermeer. The painting is of a girl wearing a blue dress looking out a window. The book is a collection of short stories that are all about the life of the painting. It starts with the present day owner, a man who inherited the painting from his father. It turns out his father stole the painting during World War II from the home of a Jewish that was being sent to Auschwitz. It traces the history all the way back to the day it was painted and tells the stories of all the lives that were touched by it. Each story is completely different and the number of distinct characters and voices that the author has created is impressive. My favorite story takes place in the mid 1800's in Amsterdam during an epic flood. The main character in the story is a woman whose family has had to retreat to the upper story of their house because the lower story is underwater. Her husband is a dedicated man who spends his days trying to save their farm. One day he and his children find a boat with a baby in it. Pinned to the baby's blanket is a note asking someone to care for the baby. The Vermeer painting is rolled up and also tucked in with the baby and the note instructs the finder to sell the painting in order to care for the baby.

The mother is a very sweet character. She loves the baby and she loves the painting. Neither she nor her husband have any idea the value of the painting and they have it tacked up on the wall. The husband, wracked with anxiety about how to survive the ravages of the flood is gloomy and quick-tempered. But when he's gone during the day, his wife and children and the new baby lead a happy, peaceful life. I don't quite know how to explain what is so compelling about this story other than it captures an innocence in this woman that seems very authentic. She is young and hopeful and full of love for her children, for her husband, and for life. She does not want to sell the painting because she believes it should stay with the baby but when times get tough she is forced to go into the city. She has good instincts and avoids getting swindled and finally learns that the true value of the painting can save her family...there's more to the story than this but I've already told too much.

What is interesting about the book is that each person seems to project so much of themselves into their interpretation of the painting - particularly their yearnings. The young wife believes the girl is the baby's mother, the lowly maid believes the girl is free and happy and loved, the old man sees in the girl the first woman he loved and lost. The last story is the story of the girl herself and we learn how none of the fantasies were true, how the girl's life ended up being as hard and ordinary as anyone else's. Although many of the stories have sadness in them, the book is not only sad - there is humor and joy in it as well.

The woman who picked this book reminds me SO much of my grandma. Her name is Darlene, even though I called her Shirley at one of the last book clubs because I'm ridiculously bad with names. When she was telling us that she'd selected this book for us to read she had the best expression on her face, like she couldn't wait for us to read it. Most of us liked the book, though some of the members didn't like the choppiness of the different stories, how they sort of started and stopped abruptly. I didn't mind though, I thought it was great.

I'm going to give it 3.5 Ampersands &&&.5

Clan of the Cave Bear - # 20

We like to laugh about rape in the garage house. We laugh at it because we live with it every day. My black cat Hopkins – neutered since about 3 months of age – attempts a sort of confused attempted mounting of my two pretty girl cats regularly. Barring any success doing that, he is in the midst of an obscene relationship with blankets these days. I wake up almost every night to the little man ever so gently lifting and lowering his back feet as he clutches a blanket in his mouth. This can go on for hours. Though I think the blanket is more or less consenting, the human foot or hand that is sometimes caught up in the blanket at the time is definitely not.

Rape, in a much less amusing sense, is around us geographically as well. Our review of the website neighborhoodscout.com unfortunately revealed that on a scale of 1 to 100 – with 100 being the safest and 1 being the least safe, any given street on Tacoma will rarely crack a 9. So my chances of being stolen from, assaulted, raped or murdered are roughly about the same as they would be if I lived in a Turkish prison. Just last week I read about a 66 year old man who brought a prostitute to his mobile home in Midland Tacoma, handcuffed her to his bed and spent the next several hours raping and electrocuting her.

When I started reading Clan of the Cave Bear Jamie remembered having seen the movie – starring Darryl Hannah. I’ve heard it’s not so great, but all that he could seem to remember is that Darryl Hannah is repeatedly raped in the movie. So it was with a sense of dread that I read the book and I’m happy to report that, while rape does occur, it is hardly the main point of the story.

PLOT SUMMARY

I thought COTCB was incredible. Having finished it several days ago, I’m all the more impressed with it for how vividly it’s remained in my mind and made me think about humans, gender, nature, instinct, and all sorts of things that should occupy our minds more but somehow seem not to.

This book is about a clan of Neanderthals who adopt the main character - a little homo sapien girl named Ayla. Ayla lost her own tribe in an earthquake. The book is an interesting comparison of Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens. The Neanderthals look different – they are hairier, have heavier, stronger bones, their heads are shaped differently – more like monkeys. Ayla looks like modern humans and is blonde. Another huge difference between them – in the book – is that Neanderthals can access their reptilian brain, so they share “racial memories.” Basically they can access all of the knowledge of their ancestors either by being reminded of the knowledge, or conjuring it up in ceremony. Ayla does not have this gift, but she can think abstractly and can make associations, which the clan people are incapable of doing.

Iza is the medicine woman of the tribe who finds and adopts Ayla. She is a the highest ranking female member of the clan and she totally rules. The culture of the clan is rigid and very resistant to change. It is an extremely patriarchal society. Male and female roles are so sharply delineated that if a female were to attempt performing a male duty she would be subject to a $10,000 fine and/or death (I made the fine part up.) Men have absolute power over women. Violence is used liberally in order to enforce obedience. For the most part the women do not mind or complain about their station because they accept that it is the way of things and they don’t have the mental capacity to consider rebellion. When a man is excessively violent, it is noted, but only in the most extreme cases would anyone interfere.

The clan’s religion is an important part of their culture. They believe that every person has a spiritual animal totem. It is assigned to them at birth by the spiritual leader of the clan. Totems can bring good fortune if they are happy and very bad luck if they are not. A woman’s totem must always be weaker than a man’s or she will not get pregnant. The clan’s knowledge of reproduction is not exactly impressive. They think that the way women get pregnant is that a man’s totem fights with her totem and if it loses she gets pregnant. They have not made any connection between sex and pregnancy and the concept of “father” has never occurred to them. They do have a similar relationship to father/child in that they take responsibility for their mate’s children. It doesn’t really matter who fathers the child (since they don’t know how that works) and it’s entirely possible that their mate’s children are not their own since men are allowed to have sex with whomever they please.

Ayla is special throughout the book because she is so different. Not only does she look and sound different, she thinks differently and she is compelled to act differently. For example when the spiritual leader of the group tries to explain numbers to Ayla he is “thunderstruck” when she not only easily understands it, but is effortlessly able to conceptualize numbers that he himself could not possibly understand. He says that it was only with great difficulty and diligent study that he was able to count to 20.

She is also not bred to subservience like the rest of her clan. What’s great about her is that she is not rebellious by nature, she is just herself and that is perceived as rebellious. She is actually very eager to conform. She wants to be good and obedient and she almost always is. But there’s one person in the clan who hates her to the point of obsession – Broud. Broud is the son of the clan chief’s mate and he’s a total, maniacal asshole. He is seethingly jealous of Ayla because she so often steals attention from him. It is her bad luck that the day Broud was named a man (makes his first kill hunting) she was given her animal totem – the cave lion. A woman getting a totem as strong as a cave lion is totally unheard of and it overshadows Broud’s big man ceremony. Grrrr.

But Broud is officially a man who can and does officially beat the hell out of Ayla. She’s still a little girl – less than 8 years old. However, I’ll stop and say that time is definitely relative for these people. One of the characters dies in the book. The description is something like this, “Her hair was white and limp, her face was lined with deep creases. She looked a thousand years old. She was not quite twenty-six.” My cat has a longer life expectancy. These people did some seriously hard living. So eight years old is practically an adult by their standards. Broud makes Ayla’s life as miserable as he possibly can. But Ayla – and I believe this is a very intentional theme in the book – is highly adaptable. The book is really about evolution itself. The clan are a dying race, they have no future because they are incapable of change. Ayla’s race will live and learn to dominate all other animals because they can adapt. Ayla does what she needs to do to not only survive, but flourish. When she realizes that no amount of pissyness or defiance is going to save her from Broud’s bullying, she learns to simply accept it and not let it bother her beyond the moment.

Ayla is driven by a need to learn and improve. Though she does not have the considerable gift of being able to remember all the memories of an ancient race, she is a very quick learner. She learns from Iza, the medicine woman, how to heal. She does not instinctively know the uses for all plants, but what she can do is make associations between one illness and another, and be innovative with how she uses healing remedies. Her body is not as strong as clan members’, but her limbs are longer and she is more agile. She can swim and she can wield a slingshot better than the clan members (though the latter is strictly forbidden to her.) She has a natural curiosity that cannot be quelled no matter how good her intentions. Over and over again she breaks the standards and traditions of the clan. Yet, possibly because her intentions are always innocent and good, they almost always yield some benefit for the tribe. It creates both gratitude and great uneasiness in the clan, and it stokes the hatred that Broud feels for Ayla.

Eventually, as must happen in every girl’s life, Ayla’s totem starts fighting other totems, on a monthly basis and the blood from her totem’s kill drains from her. It will soon be time for Ayla to take a mate. The problem is she is uglier than sin to the Neanderthals because of her unsightly flat forehead, fair coloring, and disturbing lack of shoulder hair. This is fine with Ayla because she has an independent spirit. She does want to be a mother, but is pretty much resigned to not having kids because really – what male totem could ever kill a cave lion totem? Right around this time Broud starts to realize that he can torture Ayla by raping her. The concept of rape is totally unknown to them. If a man wants to have sex with a woman he merely gives her the signal, she “assumes the position” and it’s business as usual. Sex is as ordinary to them as eating or collecting roots so they do it in front of each other and children imitate it. I will at this point interject that, if the behavior of my cats is any indication, there is nothing natural about female acquiescence to random male urges. When Hopkins gets within a foot of Mithril the windows shake from her screeching, and hissing and she has taken out entire filing cabinets in her attempt to flee from his “signal.”

Something in Ayla, however, does not want to assume the position for Broud, but he makes her and beats her savagely for disobeying him. This is a very fun new game to Broud and he rapes her several times a day for several months. Coincidentally, this is around the same time that a freakishly strong male totem defeats Ayla’s cave lion totem and she becomes pregnant. Ayla is thrilled by this turn of events and even forgets to mind that Broud continues to signal her that he wants to “relieve himself” with her. Now that she no longer cares, Broud is bored with it and stops.

So, Ayla dies in the book a few times. Don’t worry, none of them are permanent. The clan has a very strange way of dealing with those who break a serious clan rule. They will “kill” you. Let me explain. In a rational society this would mean that they would quite literally end your life. But in the clan world, they “spiritually” kill you – meaning they say a few words and you’re “dead.” No one can see you or hear you and you just disappear to them. Now, let me further clarify. They’re not saying that they shun you, or merely agree to ignore you. They really, really believe that you have died and, though you’re still standing there, they believe your body is just a spirit. They think you are dead. Most of the time when a person is cursed to death it is permanent and the cursee actually does end up dying because they also think they’re dead and that’s just too depressing to handle. Ayla – though not unmoved by the ceremony – also gets that she’s sort of…not dead. Ayla was only temporarily cursed for a month, and if she can somehow survive the month she’ll be able to rejoin the clan. Someone surviving temporary death has only happened once – in a legend. I’ll just go ahead and ruin the surprise and let you know that she does survive her death. The clan is convinced she was in the spirit world the whole time.

Overall, the story is about Ayla’s young adulthood – I think she’s only around 12 when the book ends but she’s behaved and been treated like a full grown woman for years. It’s about her struggles with nature, the clan and the asshole Broud who becomes leader of the clan at the end. I learned that this is only the first in a series of books and I am very interested to read the next to see what happens to her.

REVIEW

The story is very fast-paced. I sort of dreaded reading the book, both because of Jamie’s recollection of the movie and because Nikki read it and didn’t like it at all. However, I couldn’t put it down and I think it was remarkably well written. I love it when I get sucked into a book that I don’t expect to like. I know that Nikki was irritated by the sexism in the book and of course it can be difficult to stomach. But I read it as a feminist book because it shows the indomitable spirit of this bright girl who never seeks revenge, but is constantly vindicated. She is an uncommonly strong character and one who is totally, believably unaware of her own greatness. She has been criticized her whole life for what makes her great, so she is practically ashamed of her accomplishments. I would tell more of the plot, but I do not want to spoil it for anyone and I definitely encourage you to read it.

Something that struck me about Ayla’s character was how happy she usually was. She would run through the woods, practice hunting, gather herbs, and be absolutely joyful. Being free to be herself was all that she needed to find peace and happiness. And while it’s easy to make fun of the clan’s superstitions, ceremonies, and batshit beliefs, there is something enviable about a society that holds so much sacred. There is a very fine line between genuine reverence and hypocrisy – especially when religion is involved. However, in our world that has lost its freaking mind and maybe even its soul, the thought of there being something sacred is beautiful. I love to laugh at things. I was just making jokes about rape, which if you think about it, isn’t all that funny. The clan’s values were unshakable, and most of them were pretty decent. Be loyal, contribute something with your talents, take care of each other... what values do we have now? Look at what we’re doing to each other and to the rest of the world. For more COTCB deep thought by LoLo, stay tuned for Part II…

RATING
I’m going with &&&& - four Ampersands! Definitely list-worthy.

For your Reading PLEASURE

For a few years now I've been wishing there were a site where you could go to read news that is - if not happy - at least not likely to give you a churning feeling in your chest that resembles what I assume a heart attack feels like and makes you stare into space in despair. You may or not have noticed that practically every newspaper or news site is about 98% awful, awful news.

But occasionally there is a gem of happy news buried amid the muck. I usually skim several news sites a day and I think I'm going to use this blog as a place to post happy-ish news. Knowing me I'll probably only do this once, but in case I get consistent about it, thought you'd like to know why.

Here's today's finds:

This article is pretty bland, but it did give me a moment to think and it's message is positive:


I really dig this article about "wave energy" - Luke, check it out...


Kind of a cool article about a possible vaccine for malaria.


This one is just entertaining -- what the???

Ender's Game - #65

For some reason I don't consider myself a fan of sci-fi even though I've totally enjoyed the few sci-fi books I've read. This book intrigued me because for a sci-fi book to be on a list of favorite novels of librarians, I figured it must be awesome.

IT TOTALLY IS!

I'm just going to dive right in. Ender's Game takes place in a futuristic society that has done away with all religion and strictly controls the population by allowing only two children per family. The society is still dealing with the affects of an alien war that they narrowly won. They call the aliens "Buggers" and children play "Buggers" the way that kids in the pre-"Oh yeah, we totally fucked the Indians over" era played cowboys and Indians.

Because of this war, recruitment to their version of an army is a big part of society and they recruit children at a very young age. The recruitment process involves studying high-potential children by monitoring them visually. If you show enough potential you will be assigned a "monitor" which is basically a video camera that is attached to your neck. You wear it for years, while you are studied by army recruiters. Ender's family is of great interest to the army for some reason, and his older brother and sister were both monitored. Neither made the cut for reasons unknown, but came close enough that Ender's parents were given the rare privelige of having a third child. That's Ender.

I won't be ruining much of the surprise by telling you that Ender does make the cut. The rest of the story is about his experiences as he trains in the army. One of the things I liked about the novel is that it doesn't soften Ender's experience because he is so young -- only six years old when he first enters. His life is pretty much awful, but he's such a bloody genius that you can see why (sort of) the army pushes him so hard.

The author is incredible at describing his world. The children live in zero gravity and Orson Scott Card describes this experience so well that you can totally envision living in that environment. The war games that the children play in zero gravity are complex, but still easy to understand. Unlike stupid-ass Quidditch (Harry Potter) you actually get the point of what they're doing and the scenes are exciting. I got the sense that Card's imagination had brought Ender's world to life to such an extent that he wasn't creating the world in the book, but observing it.

There is an interesting parallel story about Ender's siblings -- whom he doesn't see -- and what they're doing while Ender is in the army. His brother is basically evil and his sister is practically angelic. You begin to see that Ender's strength was his more moderate character -- that is why he was chosen. However, his siblings are no less special or brilliant than Ender. It makes for good reading and sets context for what is going on in the world while Ender is in his highly sheltered environment of army training.

I don't want to give any more of the book away but I will say that there is a jaw-dropping twist at the end. I was so taken by surprise that it was almost embarrassing. AWESOME.

This is a book that stays with you. I really enjoyed it and highly recommend it.

&&&&& -- FIVE AMPERSANDS!!!

WHAT'S COMING UP:

The Clan of the Cave bear by Jean Auel