Book Review – Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally

Book of the Day

Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally was a very dry read.  It was drier than the cheapest plonk at the pub during happy hour.  Now before anyone starts collecting rocks to stone me, I would challenge them to read the book too and then comment.  

I am not denying that the material in the book is powerful.  I definitely acknowledge that the book is filled with names, places and intense facts.  But it is not prose. Upon thinking this further, I recollect the subject of the book and wonder if there is a reason for that.  If the author, in this case Thomas Keneally was aiming for an emotive piece, it would be a character lie. By all accounts, Oskar Schindler was a hard drinking and reckless businessman who cheated on his wife with regularity (Hurvitz & Karesh, 2016).  He destroyed his family business, sought to cheat, lie and swindle his way back into a life of comfort. Quite frankly, by all tokens, this man was an immoral and wasteful character. Then Schindler went on to save almost 1300 Jews from the concentration camps during those dark days in Eastern Europe.  This man, who by the standards of his time, and now; unworthy of attention; put his own life at risk to save others. His actions have been immortalised in a book, a major Spielberg movie production and the term Schindlerjuden or Schindler’s Jews, which is still used to refer to the descendents of those that were saved.   

So when you consider all these facts, the dryness of Keneally’s “Schindler’s Ark” makes sense.  It would be a lie if the book was anything other than prosaic. Instead, its matter of fact manner of describing the main character’s traits ensures that the reader does not view him with rose framed lenses.  The reader is made fully aware of Oskar’s failings as a man and a husband. It is in viewing these failings that Schindler’s true heroism is seen. The plain language allows the reader to envision the fear hiding between the stalwart words.  Conversely, the plain language also allows readers with little imagination to read the book without being overwhelmed.  

“Schindler’s Ark” was a very dry read for someone who is a lover of prose.  As an avid reader of fiction, I found this novel to be more informative than anything else.  I also found it heartbreaking, just like the sadness I feel when the happy hour wine is just awful.  But whilst this book was a struggle for me, it would be ideal for reluctant teens who struggle with engaging with fictitious stories.  The language, style and format of the book resemble information books and thus may satisfy their need for ‘facts’.  But whilst the Guardian review suggests this book as appropriate for 8-12 year old children, I would probably restrict it to students over 14-15 years old.  This would then correlate well with the year 10 HASS’s World War 2 and Holocaust unit especially the ACDSEH025 elaboration.  It would also work well in the Biographies and memoirs unit in Year 10 English.  

 REFERENCES:

Alannahbee, (2013). Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally – review. The Guardian. Retrieved 16th March, 2020 from https://www.theguardian.com/childrens-books-site/2013/sep/25/review-schindler-s-ark-by-thomas-keneally

Axelrod, A. (2013). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of World War II, vol. 2. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=265017.

Hurvitz, M. M., & Karesh, S. E. (2016). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of Judaism, Second Edition. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=263928.

It was the moment I fell in love…

kaboompics / Pixabay – Falling in love

 

I fell in love for the first time with a boy named James Winthrop Frayne II.  I was 11 years old and madly in love. He was 16 years old, tall and very smart, with red hair, green eyes and a slightly crooked smile. 

PlushDesignStudio / Pixabay – In love with books.

 

Unfortunately for me, James or Jim, as I lovingly referred to him, was a character in my favourite book series “Trixie Belden”. In fact, my love for Jim Frayne was so embedded into my mind that I ended up marrying another lovely redhead (he says honey-blond) who also happened to have James in his name.  And whilst I was falling in love with Jim Frayne…

I fell in love with reading books. 

Now when I say I love books, I say this as an adult who reads on a daily basis. 

I have never spent a day in my life as far as I can remember without reading or food.  In fact reading and eating are interwoven rather closely in my life. I have eaten my way through many books and I have read my way through many meals.  Even now as a mother of three, dinner table conversations are still second place to a book. So for me, books are a need, like food and water. I indulge that need with classics and new authors; old favourites and popular series.  But series fiction holds a dear spot in my heart. As a child, series fiction gave me Jim and Trixie, Harry and Hermoine, Frank and Joe, Nancy and Bess, Laura Ingalls, Anne Shirley, Lucy, Pollyanna, Heidi, George and Timmy, Darryl and Sally. As an adult series fiction brought me Doc Scarpetta, Tempe Brennan, Ayla of no people, Falco, Jamie and Claire plus many others into my life.  Whilst I have loved the classics and other stand alone titles, series fiction brought me the greatest joy.   

{silence} {crickets} {crashing cups of tea and chairs} {my career as a future TL fading into the sunset}

Yes, as an adult who is also a fledgling teacher librarian, I am voicing out loud my deep and ardent affection for serial stories.  Now, once everyone has picked themselves off the floor and righted their tea cups; I will explain my thoughts.

I acknowledge that series fiction, whether for adults or children, has often been regarded as literary rubbish.  Often viewed as the ‘Mills & Boon’ of literature, series fiction is derided for its repetitive structure, predictive plot and lack of character development (Westfahl, 2018).  Some would even argue that its presence on bookshelves is a betrayal of literary values (Westfahl, 2018). But these people are snobs! Books do not always have to be among the lexicons of literature.  Books, especially fiction books, should be able to satisfy cognitive, emotional and the developmental needs of the reader and series fiction definitely addresses the emotional needs of both fledging and proficient readers.

But before I elaborate deeply on how series fiction changed my life; I would like to clarify a few technical issues.  There are three main types of series fiction. Firstly, there is the progressive series; where a longer narrative is broken down into shorter novels and the sequence of titles is important to the reader and storyline (Wooldridge, 2015).  Then there are the successive series, where the plot repeats itself continuously and lastly, the accidental variety where the author reluctantly writes prequels and sequels to comfort the crazies.  

Rowling’s Harry Potter, Marsden’s Tomorrow when the war began, Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables and Wilder’s Little house books are some examples of progressive series.  These book concatenations had a definite end which saw the characters grow and develop along with the reader.  I was one of those readers that grew up with Ellie and Harry. I devoured John Marsden’s series in a matter of months.  My poor high school teacher librarian was continuously pestered to get the rest of the series once I got hold of the first one. Poor man!  Lucky for him, by the time I discovered Harry, I had a job and a library membership! I was 13 when the first HP book was released and as Harry grew up, so did I.  Harry, Hermoine and Ron were more than just book characters, for me they were friends.  

Successive series examples include the famous Diary of a wimpy kid, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden, Babysitters club, Animorphs, Famous Five, Secret Seven, and Bobbsey Twins.  These series have a foreseeable story patterns with comforting characters and obvious plots (Wooldridge, 2015).  Whilst these books may seem formulaic (they are!), it is their predictability that makes them popular. Series fiction offers children constancy and security in a world full of upheaval (Wooldridge, 2015).  Children develop a sense of trust, an affection with the character and possibly even a relationship with the author (Wooldridge, 2015). So while they themselves grow up through the tumultuous years of puberty, series fiction with its predictability offers an escape, a playdate with an old friend.  

I developed this type of relationship with Enid Blyton after being introduced to the Famous Five. The sheer joy received from reading that series led me to trust her writing style and with it I discovered Secret Seven, 5 find outers and it, Mallory Towers, Twins at St Claire’s, Wishing Chair, Enchanted Tree, Amelia Jane and so many more.  For an awkward immigrant kid with poor social skills, these books allowed me to escape to places where magic and friendship abounded.  My daughter is also a big Blyton fan. Every time she picks up a book authored by Blyton, I know that she will most likely gain the same level of emotional satisfaction that I did and so develop her love of reading.  There is also a great deal of enjoyment to share with her the books of my childhood.

The last main type of series fiction is the accidental variety.  These are books that the author only planned on one, and then somehow their popularity has meant sequels and prequels were soon requested by adoring fans.  George M Martin’s Game of Thrones is such a series, spawning an TV run that lasted several years and ended before the last book has even been published.  Diana Gabaldan’s Outlander series is currently stalled at the near publication of its 9th book and only time will tell if the tenth book will ever eventuate (especially since the first book was published almost 20 years ago!).  Other accidental series include Baum’s Wizard of Oz, Norton’s The Borrowers and P. L. Traver’s Mary Poppins.  Because these series were accidental and not planned, their storylines do not always make sense and can appear a bit jerky at times.  Sometimes they abruptly end if the author or readers lose interest.  

Series fiction has been around for a long time. As much as some literary snobs would hate to admit, there are some current classics that used to be serials.  Dicken’s Pickwick Papers and another seven of his other titles as well as Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes started off as series but then were condensed into a novel several reprints later (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018).  Even further back to the folklore stories such as mythical twelve tasks of Hercules; the thousand and one stories of Scherazade and adventures of the Round table are varieties of series fiction.  So to all those literary snobs that believe series fiction are rubbish… well… pffft to you.  

If you think about it from a practical viewpoint it makes sense if you have a recipe that works to use it!  Edward Strathmeyer had such a recipe back in the boom days of series fiction. He planned outlines of books and then organised cheap ghost writers to write the stories, and oh boy… did it work!  The whole Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys production is based upon this magical recipe (Westfahl, 2018).  The recipe had some key ingredients. Characters are kept the same age; have the same small town holistic upbringing; go on amazing adventures, travel the world but always come home safely to a loving family.  These books allowed children and teens (mainly aimed at Caucausian middle class Americans) an avenue of escape from their groundhog day lives. As these book characters all suffered from perennial Peter Pan syndrome, they have never lost their appeal even in its trillionth reprint nearly ninety years after the first copy (Finnian, 2013).  I will mention here that whilst racial demographics and family structure has evolved significantly since the first Stratemeyer book was published in 1927, their popularity has not changed.  The plot pattern remains the same but the settings and dilemmas have evolved with the times.  Obviously the recipe still works!

So what is the benefit of series fiction?  Besides emotional satisfaction, series fiction allows the reader to build their literacy skills.  McGill-Franzen & Ward (2018) believes that the predictable plots assist in developing word recognition which in turn boosts vocabulary and reading confidence.  The formulaic story pattern allows the reader to easily identify any explicit reading conventions present. This expanded vocabulary and confidence then allows the reader to successfully use their increased literacy skills in other areas. 

Series fiction makes it simple for readers to identify titles they are willing to read because they identify with the author.  Reluctant readers are more likely to pick a book they are familiar with by the same author; than a title by a new author. They are also more likely to try other titles by that author because of the relationship that was previously established.  A great example is John Flanagan, author of the fabulous Ranger’s apprentice series.  Teens who enjoy that series often move onto the Royal Ranger series as well as Brotherband because they trust the author. The same can be said for Rick Riordan and the plethora of books he has published.  

The impact of series fiction is clear.  Children and teens who read more books end up being more adults who read.  Remember, committed adult readers were hooked onto reading as children by series fiction (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018).  And whilst reading of insightful novels that provokes critical thinking complements a wide reading program, it cannot replace it.  Pushing the classics onto children and teens before they are ready is unlikely to work. But offering them an opportunity to connect with an author or a series they can engage with may put them onto the pathway towards literature.  After all, children do age out of one series and into another (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018). They grow from Blyton’s Magic Faraway tree to Rodda’s Rowan of Rin, to Rowling’s Harry Potter to Marsden’s Tomorrow when the war began to Davis’ Falco, Cornwall’s Scarpetta and Reichs’ Bones and Hume’s Arthur and Merlin series and eventually they reach the classics. Why do I know that?  Cos I did just that.  

I fell in love with reading as a child.  I have stayed in love with reading as an adult.  Are you in love with reading? If so, when did it happen?

REFERENCES

Finnan, Robert (2013). “Unofficial Nancy Drew Home Page”. Retrieved 14th March 2020. 

McGill-Franzen, A. & Ward, N. (2018). To develop proficiency and engagement, give series books to novice readers. In D. Wooten, B. Cullinan, L. Liang & R. Allington (Eds). Children’s literature in the reading program: Engaging young readers in the 21st century, (5th ed., pp. 153-168). Retrieved from Proquest Ebook Central.

Westfahl, G. (1999-2018). Series fiction. World of Westfahl. Retrieved from https://www.sfsite.com/gary/ww-ref-series01.htm

Woolridge, T. (2015). Series fiction and Sallly Rippin’s Billie B Brown series: The ‘Most important continuous reading children do on their own’. mETAphor, 3, 30-35. Retrieved from https://www.englishteacher.com.au/

 

YA – Did you ?

My knowledge of children’s literature is as extensive as my personal library. 

I have shelves groaning with ‘golden books’( a remnant of my childhood), Blyton, Nesbit, Grimm, Anderson, Wilder (another remnant), Montgomery (mine), Alcott (yes… also mine), Lewis (mine), Anh Do (definitely not mine – Child #2), Harvey, Keene, K Kenny (mine), J Kenny ( not mine – Child #1), Dixon and Rowling to just name a few authors. This is not including the shelves full of board and picture books (child #1, #2 and #3) that have appealed to my minions thus far.  But as I ponder this, and glance lovingly at my home library, I realise that I went straight from children’s books to the classics and then onto adult fiction. I had completely skipped the YA stage. 

A whole series that revolutionised children’s books.

 

Young adult fiction as Tyle (2014) points out are books that are written for teenagers aged between 12-18 years old and (mostly) have teen protagonists as central characters.  Compared to books aimed at children and adults, YA fiction should be able to present a teen’s perspective without sounding condescending or patronising. Pattee (2017) although prefers to call YA as emerging adult fiction or new adult fiction as she feels that this developmental phase could be more applicable to young adults between 18-25 years old.  Her reasoning for this shift in age range is based upon when confusion and conflict occurs in identity as per Erikson’s psychological theory. Pattee (2017, p.220) suggests that a true identity crisis occurs later in life than in teen years as per previous theories.  

A childhood favourite of mine

 

This makes sense to me.  It’s common knowledge that the brains of young people are not fully grown till their mid-twenties.  After all, due to the increased risk of rash decision making, most car insurance companies charge younger drivers a higher excess compared to their older compatriots.   Another thought to ponder is the age that modern ‘new adults’ actually start adult-ing (Pattee, 2017). With millennials delaying settling down with a partner and setting up their homes till their late 20’s and early 30’s; the time period for identity conflict and resolution is definitely being delayed.  

My first encyclopaedia

 

When thinking back to my earlier readings I recall that children’s literature should address the behavioural, cognitive and emotional development of children.  A good children’s book helps children grow and understand themselves and the world they live in. So a good YA novel should also do the same for young people. It should help them grow into adulthood.  It should help them deal with coming of age issues like sexuality and relationships.  

So back to my bookshelves of children’s literature.  I would be the first to agree that my knowledge of children’s books are dated.  But whilst I do feel its part of parenting that we share our favourite authors, soundtracks and movies with our children, we must also keep our minds open to them finding their own favourites.  So my children and I have an agreement. Every time we go to the library they borrow whatever books they want to read, and then I get one I have enjoyed and then read that to them. This way they share with me their favourite books, I can share my love of literature, and at the same time expand my repertoire of titles. 

Win/Win?  

I think yes.

REFERENCES

Pattee, Amy.Children’s Literature Association Quarterly; Baltimore Vol. 42, Iss. 2,  (Summer 2017): 218-230. DOI:10.1353/chq.2017.0018

Tyle, Leonie. Following the Michael L. Printz award Leonie Tyle muses on the definition of young adult fiction [online]. Magpies: Talking About Books for Children, Vol. 29, No. 4, Sep 2014: 16.

Once upon a time… 

Ramdlon / PixabayA

An expression that is almost universally known by both adults and children alike.  The mere mention of this phrase is enough to perk my offspring’s heads and ears like meerkats on high alert.   Like most children, my three girls love story time in all its forms. In their eyes (and ears) it is irrelevant how the story originates.  Depending on my mood and their persuasive power; the mode and delivery of the story will vary. Sometimes it is a retelling of an old favourite or a re-read of a treasured classic; other times it is the most recent offering from a library; and occasionally, it is a spuriously invented pudding-headed story to bring silly smiles to little faces.

Cornett (2014) theorised that stories and storytelling developed from a need of the ancient peoples to understand their world.  Stories are how cultural traditions and practices were passed down the generations and it is still the most common method in which communities celebrate and immortalise important events.  After all, most families have embarrassing stories that get retold at every family gathering and eventually they become familial folklore.  The Indigenous peoples of Australia have a rich history of oral traditions and as such, much of their cultural histories are embodied and immortalised in storytelling.  But even for societies that no longer possess such a strong emphasis on oral traditions, storytelling is still the most basic and simple way we learn about language, our identity and the society we live in (Ross Johnston, 2014; Cornett, 2014). 

So what makes a story so special?

Besides being a vector of traditions, stories and storytelling play key roles in language acquisition in children as stories expand their vocabulary repertoire (Cornett, 2014).  Infants and toddlers do absorb nuances of language from their daily life from conversation but reading stories increases the variety of words available. This means that when exposed to literature as adolescents there is already a familiarity with language, which improves comprehension and fluency. 

Besides language acquisition, stories also assist with identity formation (Ross Johnston, 2014).   To put it simply, stories often contain didactic language that belongs to a particular sub section of society and thus stories can connect individuals together in society and or inform others of another society.  A great example of this is Mem Fox’s ‘Possum magic’ with its inclusion of terms such as vegemite, pavlova and lamingtons. Australian children resonate with this story as the language used within is familiar to them and they can connect to the familiar animal characters.  Whereas children from other countries could find this language both exotic and a novelty. Similarly, Rod Clement’s ‘Olga the Brolga’ brings together Australian fauna with its fabulous illustrations and rhyming text. Children who are exposed to stories like this discover local vocabulary and in turn unearth aspects of their own country and culture. 

Stories are more than just words in a book.  Stories reflect societal norms and allows children to gain information about the world they live in.  They expand the mind, broaden values, teach empathy and show us what another viewpoint is. Most of all, stories teach us to reflect on who we are as individuals and what we can become.  For all these reasons, stories and storytelling are indispensable to adults and children alike. 

PublicDomainPictures / Pixabay

REFERENCES.
Cornet, C. E. (2014). Integrating the literary arts throughout the curriculum. In Creating meaning through literature and the arts: arts integration for Classroom teachers (5th ed,) (pp144-193) USA

Ross Johnston, R. (2014). Literary literacies: Digital, cultural, narrative, critical and deep literacies. In G. Winch, R. Ross Johnston, P. March, L. Ljungdahl & M. Holliday (Eds.), Literacy: Reading, writing and children’s literature (5th ed., pp. 556). Retrieved from Proquest Ebook Central.