I really should start posting these before class, so that I don't end up reiterating everything that's already been said.

We discussed in class all the different takes on children and adults in Peter Pan but we didn't really address the pirates to any extent. I think the pirates were some of the most intriguing characters in the book. To me, they're sort of like over-grown children-- they are still searching for a mother and they're stuck in this Neverland of imagination, constantly chasing around children (or are they chasing after their childhoods?). Captain Hook is already an adult, but he's a very different sort of adult. It's interesting, to me, that he's usually played by Mr. Darling, a man we've established as another over-grown child. Perhaps, by having Mrs. Darling play the figure (as Barrie originally intended), we would see that the mother figure is the one chasing after her childhood. She did save that kiss on the corner of her mouth just for Peter Pan (at least, he's the only one who could take it), and, like Hook, she cannot defeat the passage of time that will take away her own children. Just as Captain Hook does, Mrs. Darling both fears and admires Peter Pan (though, in her motherly state, she's not nearly so violent about it). The night Peter comes and takes the children to Neverland, Mrs. Darling struggles to leave for their party because "a nameless fear clutched at her heart"-- she's scared of him. At the same time, though, she vaguely remembers him from her own childhood; she saved a kiss for him. They have different motives for their fear of Peter, but there are some remarkable-- if a little stretched-- similarities between Hook and Mrs. Darling.

Now back to the pirates. They seem to be the grown-up versions (and by "grown-up" I simply mean "older") of the Lost Boys. They, too, long for mothers and they also dwell in the land of fantasy, which is generally only associated with chidlren. We established in class that, in this book, children need adults and adults need children. The way the pirates and Lost Boys are positioned, though, the adults are fighting against the children and the children are fighting against the adults. Couple all of this with the ticking crocodile and opening line that "All children, except one, grow up" and you have what could be an incredibly symbolic relationship. Perhaps the children are fighting their future selves (I especially see the similarities between Tootles and Smee and Peter and Hook) or perhaps the pirates are fighting their own child-like natures. After all, a child without a mother can easily grow up to be a scoundrel (or a pirate) and an adult who matured in body but not mind can certainly be obsessed with children (perhaps like Barrie himself). Hook, himself, is especially jealous at the ease and cockiness the children possess. He hates that they effortlessly embody good form while he has to try for it. The kids hate him because he represents what they will all (except Peter) turn in to. I think Hook especially hates Peter because he'll never grow up; Peter will never experience what it's like to have time, even in the form of a crocodile, chasing after him. Hook wants Wendy as a mother because only children rely on mothers; perhaps he sees her as an avenue for getting back what he's lost as an adult. At any rate, he learns the hard way that he can't go back as time has already chosen him as its next victim.

I feel like I'm putting forth too many ideas. I'm starting to get confused, so I think I need to stop. Needless to say, this book has always fascinated me; there's so much to be said about it and, at the same time, so much that shouldn't be said.

how much do we really grow up?

I just finished The Golden Compass (I know, I know, very last minute) and really felt the need to write about it. I'd like to start off by saying that I think this book was beautifully written and told a wonderful story. I also think the controversy surrounding it is rather silly-- I mean, I never would have noticed that part of it as a child. I don't even think I would have seen it now had I not already heard all about it.

That said, I'm SO glad I didn't read it when I was younger. First, because I would have hated Lyra-- I was quite the little Purist and never would have been able to support the fact that she lied and manipulated virtually everyone around her (and that it was presented as a "talent"). More than that, though, this book would have terrified me. The amount of cruelty and the gruesomeness of it would have haunted me. Perhaps I'm just too sensitive (or imaginative, Pullman might argue-- that could explain why I was such a Purist), but the description of a Iofur's jaw being ripped off leaving his tongue hanging loose, followed by Iorek eating Iofur's heart, would have, without a doubt, given me horrible nightmares.

The body count also would have bothered me. SO MANY PEOPLE DIE IN THIS BOOK. This is just a taste thing, of course. I do realize that this sort of thing wouldn't bother everyone, which is completely fine. I just know how much it would have bothered me. I could accept a few deaths (I did read Lord of the Rings in elementary school) but I would have been angry, and probably even a little bit offended, that Roger dies. How do I know this? Because, to be honest, I still am. In a lot of ways, I still read books the way I did as a kid. I won't necessarily have nightmares or anything, but I was definitely deeply disturbed throughout the novel (and incredibly pissed off when Roger died). I'm still horrified at the cruelty and heartlessness of so many of the characters; just the idea of what was happening to those kids was enough to make me feel nauseous. Many times I wanted to close the book so I didn't have to think about it anymore.

I'm not sure where all of this is leading. I'm well-aware of the fact that many kids absolutely love this book, and the whole series, and that's a-okay with me! It really is a matter of taste, I think. And I would never presume to say it's "inappropriate" or anything like that-- I firmly believe that only parents should make that decision. I guess it's just to further the discussion of how kids read. I wouldn't have been able to handle this book as a child because I would have gotten so emotionally involved. That's probably evidence that Pullman tells a darn good story, but I think it's also evidence that, no matter how many analytic literature classes we take (and I've taken MANY) a lot of the ways we read last through adult-hood. The same things get under our skin and disturb us, even if we can't quite say how. And I think it's easy to read something as an adult and realize that, had we read that book at a younger age, it could have been an important experience (good or bad).

I don't know how others felt about the book. Frankly, it doesn't matter, because everyone will have responded differently. That's what makes literature so wonderful.

Finding the Humanity in Heroism

It's difficult to settle on one thing to write about, especially after discussing so much in class. After hearing everyone else's thoughts, I almost feel as though I shouldn't have liked the book so much. Perhaps I'm just a simple reader-- I believed Ged was a hero because he was presented as such. LeGuin said he was heroic, so I never questioned his heroism. I didn't have any trouble diving into the book or even liking Ged. To me, everything about him was perfectly understandable-- perfectly human. I believed in Ged and liked him because him because he grew and changed over the course of the book.

It's funny because the other story I thought of when I read A Wizard of Earthsea wasn't any sort of fantasy or science fiction-- Ged reminded me of Johnny Tremain. He followed the same journey of self-discovery: Johnny started off as an incredibly self-centered apprentice with amazing talent but, through a horrible accident that left him disfigured, he learned humility and the importance of knowing who he was outside of his talent. The actual stories are very different, but the personal discoveries of the two boys are incredibly similar. Everything about Ged's character seemed understandable and relatable; it is easy to recognize his flaws, which then makes the reader question his or her own character as it relates to that flaw.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I liked Ged because he was flawed. If I had read this as a child, I probably would have seen this book as a morality tale. I was very conscious of Ged's hubris and, because of that, thought about my own pride. We can learn from Ged more than just what it means to be a hero but what it means to be human. To be human is to be flawed and, I think LeGuin would agree, to be a better human (or even a hero) is to not only recognize those flaws, but accept them and learn from them how to be a better person.

Hello

My name is Shannon Belden and I am an English and theatre double major graduating in May. One of my life goals is to write children's books (upper elementary/junior high age), so I'm very excited about auditing this course!

It's difficult to choose a favorite children's book, simply because that's the main genre that I read. I think the book that probably had the most influence over me when I was growing up was Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli. I read it for a project when I was in fifth grade and, after that, I decided I wanted to be a writer. Spinelli has remained one of my all-time favorite authors since then. What makes this book so incredible is it's bittersweet plotline-- the character "Maniac," an orphan on the run, ends up living with a black family (though he is white) in a time and place where the two races never interact. He spends most of the book running-- usually from places and people who evoke heartache-- but by the end, he runs back to the family who gave him a home, even when it meant they were ostracized by their other friends. He's a truly likeable character who has to deal, not only with the normal difficulties of growing up, but with the idea that not everyone is accepting of those who are different. He doesn't see people for their color, but for their souls, and he slowly learns that many do not think that way.

This book gave me the first experience I've ever had crying because I was reading something beautiful-- not because it was sad or upsetting (though some parts are), but because it was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. It's a truly amazing story.