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By jamie, March 29, 2012 4:12 am

Well that was brutal. I finished the book day before yesterday and have been in a funk ever since. I keep playing certain parts over and over in my head. I keep looking at my daughter (okay, I keep snatching her up and squeezing her, holding her me until she inevitably wants me to put her down), and thinking how children represent hope for the future. At the beginning of the books, I said I couldn’t figure out why the oppressed people of Panem even had kids, because what was the point if they would have to endure the Reaping and the Hunger Games? That’s the answer – because maybe someday there would be no Reaping, and maybe those children would be free from the horrors of the games.

The section where Katniss and her army march to the center of the Capitol – it does feel like a real life video game with a little bit of the Wizard of Oz rolled in for good measure. Of course, when Dorothy’s friends dress up like the enemy in order to infiltrate the castle, they do not have to endure the gruesome obstacles that the rebels are faced with, and, though they need repair, they all survive. Not so in this story. I expected her to paint an ugly picture of war, but I underestimated how far Suzanne Collins would go.

At first I was angry with Collins for her morbid imagination, then after it was all over I realized that her depiction kept me from imagining young people in camouflage, marching with machine guns in a far away desert. I know quite a few real life soldiers. Some are related to me and many are my students, and most of them have seen combat. I was distracted with the black goo and the giant lizards, so I didn’t see the real life faces in my head until afterward.

One thing I did not like, and I still do not think it was necessary, is the depiction of the rebels taking out innocent civilians. Obviously, the biggest example of this is the scene with the children and the parachutes. My only consolation is that they will surely have to omit this from the inevitable film in order to earn an acceptable rating. Too bad they made it to the book.

I have been going over this in my head since I read it, and here is why I don’t think the scene belongs here: I am not a fan of overselling one’s point. I think there is a line that, once crossed, makes you lose your credibility. For example, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) could be a very noble cause, one that I might support, if only they could refrain from overselling their case with some of the preposterous stunts ever attempted – because of PETA’s shenanigans, I would prefer to give my donations to, for example, a no-kill animal shelter. Anyway, I know that the books are about the horrors and ambiguities of war, and that revolution does not guarantee anything more than perhaps a different face that the top (in this case, a face that is willing to continue the Hunger Games, at least one more time); being a rebel against an evil totalitarian government does not automatically make you righteous. We get it – it isn’t necessary to use an implausible scene to illustrate this. To me, the whole incident just seems impossible – that all of those children would be barricaded in that spot, that the rebels would have sent their own relief workers through that barricade when there was still a very obvious threat of explosion, or even had them positioned so close to the president’s mansion in the first place – none of it makes any sense.

As for the final Hunger Games – Prim would not have wanted it, and I can’t imagine Haymitch would either. So did they happen? Maybe that was part of why Katniss aimed her arrow in the direction she did – when she realized that one would likely lead to another and that Coin was not the right person to change things.

I’m glad there is an epilogue, even though it certainly doesn’t tie up the loose ends. Two days later, I remain unsatisfied and ambivalent; there are so many questions left unanswered. I guess that’s part of the point as well. At least we are left with the knowledge that our two very damaged heroes are eventually able to put themselves back together and continue on with life. Maybe the film will answer a few more of the nagging questions, and maybe I will want to watch it.

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By jamie, July 9, 2011 2:14 pm

Quite a few people have strong opinions of Amy Chua, the “Tiger Mother,” without having read her book. She refers to herself as a “Chinese mother” and describes raising two extremely talented, successful daughters. Here’s my opinion: Give her a break. The book is a memoir, not a how-to; it’s hard to argue with the success her children have enjoyed; and if you simply can’t stomach her tough-love methods, note that she has altered her approach since the book was written.

Let’s face facts – Amy Chua’s kids are smarter and more talented than ours, and not because they were born that way. A recent Wall Street Journal article (no, not Chua’s book except), discusses genius children, and those rare perfect specimens who can play concert piano almost before they walk. “Fewer than 1% of children in the world are considered profoundly gifted, and even fewer are regarded as prodigies—defined as children under 10 who perform better than most highly skilled adults.” The rest of us can be extraordinary too – but only with countless hours of practice and dedication, hours that few are willing to put in – which is why most of us are average.

Amy Chua was willing to dedicate many hours to her daughters, even while building her own career as a (publishing) Yale law professor and lecturing around the world (this included calling ahead to arrange loaner pianos so her eldest could practice during family trips abroad). As a result, one performed at Carnegie Hall at age , and the other earned a coveted spot with a Julliard violin teacher. Some might think she has in some way done a disservice to her kids by pressuring them and forcing them to perform at such a high level, but she also helped them win accolades and experience being the best at something. Also, she did not cop-out the way some working parents do and convince herself that quality time is more important than quantity – she put in the hours at the expense of sleep and recreation, did so while juggling a successful career, and personally helped her daughters achieve at an intensely high level.

Let’s talk about culture, as so many bloggers and reviewers have (I am choosing not to link to anyone here). Chua refers to herself as a Chinese mother, which have led some to accuse her of overgeneralizing and others to criticize or defend her based on their personal experiences. People have also expressed outrage that Chua refuses to acknowledge her Jewish husband and the fact that she is not personally Chinese, but Chinese-American – they have obviously not read the book, where she does both (repeatedly). Even in her Wall Street Journal excerpt, Chua admits to “using the term ‘Chinese mother’ loosely. I know some Korean, Indian, Jamaican, Irish and Ghanaian parents who qualify too. Conversely, I know some mothers of Chinese heritage, almost always born in the West, who are not Chinese mothers, by choice or otherwise. I’m also using the term “Western parents” loosely. Western parents come in all varieties.”

What about Chua’s professed cultural belief that children should never get anything less than a “A” or that they must be the absolute best in anything they do? How does that differ from the accolades we give kids who play injured, and the parents who allow them to do this? Talk about some screwed up values (Western ones) – we love athletes, and some of our favorite heroes are the ones who get back out there and win the game despite suffering a major injury. I recently watched the The Karate Kid remake (spoiler alert) – to me it is negligent parenting to have let that kid finish the competition when he could barely walk. Some parents subject their children to cortisone shots and repetitive stress injuries – when those kids go on to win Olympic glory, we don’t scream about child abuse, but let their parents force them to play the violin for several hours a day and we are outraged.

One passage that resonated with me focuses on the fact that, in the interest of building self esteem, we allow our children to quit instead of encouraging (forcing?) them to work really hard and earn the benefits that come from success:

“What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you’re good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle. Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America. Once a child starts to excel at something—whether it’s math, piano, pitching or ballet—he or she gets praise, admiration and satisfaction. This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun.”

Western parents give so much (false) praise that our kids have no idea when they actually did a pretty poor (or great) job at a task. Many of us provide a steady stream of stickers and Skittles for just going to the bathroom successfully! Speaking of bathrooms, we are so caught up in encouraging self esteem over skills and intellect that far too many developmentally normal children are entering kindergarten not fully potty trained, and even our pediatricians are telling us that it’s okay to wait until the kid is ready (Huggies and Pampers have a very high stake in us not becoming “Chinese parents,” that’s for sure). If we do try to teach our three-year-olds to read, spell, or add and subtract, someone is bound to suggest that we wait until our kids are emotionally ready, whatever that means. Western culture is all about being average, unless your kid can dunk or hit a ball really far.

Lest I sound like a blind defender of Amy Chua and her high pressure parenting ways, there are a few things which appalled me about her approach. The name calling and belittling (also excerpted in the WSJ piece) are, to me, unnecessary and bordering on abuse. They also teach kids that it’s an appropriate way to communicate with and refer to others. In Chua’s case, her youngest daughter dished it right back to her, which I could barely stomach, but I understood – kids learn by example, and she was only quoting her mom. Also, while she eventually realized that one size does not fit all in parenting, I am almost surprised that someone with her staggering level of ambition and accomplishment failed to notice early on that her formulaic approach was risky at best. There is also the uncomfortable fact that the girls’ father largely stayed out of things during those crucial parenting years, even though he didn’t always agree with his wife’s tactics (Chua and her husband had agreed that their children would be raised in the Jewish faith but in the “Chinese” way).

Finally, it is disingenuous not to acknowledge that Chua’s daughters are children of privilege (however hard someone had to work to achieve that privilege) – not just any parent can spend tens of thousands of dollars on musical instruments and private tutors. Some parents stagger into bed after working hard at physically demanding jobs with barely enough time to check homework let alone make detailed notes for their kid’s violin practice. Chua spent a great deal of money showing off (for example, she paid to have her daughter’s entire class attend the Carnegie Hall performance, as well as host a lavish party to commemorate the occasion). Not much humility or teaching the joy of service in this story – none, actually – talk about embracing Western values!

In all, I think we can learn a few things from the “tiger mother,” but we should neither laud her as the best parent ever nor verbally flog her as an abusive tyrant. It might be uncomfortable to think about our willing encouragement of average instead of embracing the effort necessary to be great. Our children are far less fragile than we assume they are (unless, of course, they are athletes). We can and should expect our children to do their best, and we should not teach them to avoid hard work. We should push them a little without worrying that we are going to ruin their lives (or at least put them in therapy). And, judging from the countless negative comments posted everywhere in reference to Chua and her memoir, we should pay more attention to the way we express ourselves – our children are listening.

Scroll down for other posts about Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother:

Review
Part 1: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua
Part 2: Try the Extra Credit
Part 3: Keeping Things Fun
Part 4: Out of Control
Part 5: Do The Work

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By jamie, June 18, 2011 1:02 pm

I finished the book. If you have read any articles raking her over the coals for her bad parenting, or if you have done so yourself, keep in mind that Amy Chua’s daughters honestly thank her in the book. And however she did it, her girls are determined, successful people.

Amy Chua says, “just because you love something…doesn’t mean you’ll ever be great. Not if you don’t work. Most people stink at the things they love.”

At the end of the day, we all have someone telling us what to do, whether it’s a parent, and employer, or ourselves. If we let ourselves decide what to do with our time, what do we choose? Do we mess around on the computer or watch obscene amounts of television? How hard do we work? Every job has value, even (sometimes especially) the unpaid ones – do we phone it in or do our best?

Amy Chua is right – it’s not enough to be talented or gifted or really smart. You have to work hard. Really hard, if you want to fully realize your abilities. The public schools might offer Honors or A.P. classes and a limited number of sporting activities, but there is substitute for being encouraged and challenged at home. What talents do our kids have that remain uncultivated because we either wait for the teachers to do it or we just want to “keep it fun”? If our kids don’t want to practice and we don’t require them to, what are we teaching them? I’m not saying that every kid and every hobby needs 4+ hours of practice, but we should teach our kids to have goals – and teach them to do the work to achieve those goals. We don’t have to be “the best” at everything, but we should have a chance at being our personal best at something. That kind of training will give our kids an advantage wherever they go in life.

Scroll down for other posts about Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother:

Review
Part 1: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua
Part 2: Try the Extra Credit
Part 3: Keeping Things Fun
Part 4: Out of Control
Part 5: Do The Work

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By jamie, April 9, 2011 10:22 pm

I put off getting my wisdom teeth pulled far longer than I should have. I was terrified. It seems I have very long roots and there was a risk of nerve damage (or worse) and also the teeth were impacted, which meant that they would have to be broken to be removed. Several dentists told me that only a specialist could do the job, and that I would likely require general anesthesia – this is what terrified me. When I could finally avoid it no longer, I talked them out of putting me under completely, and accepted a “drug cocktail” that I was told “would make me feel very comfortable and would make me forget any pain I endured during the surgery.” It’s true – I have amnesia about the surgery, which lasted over two hours. My only memories are of a blood pressure cuff attached to my arm which checked my BP at regular intervals. If I think back to that day I can feel the cuff inflating and deflating, but otherwise those two hours are lost to me.

I read through Chapter 4. There is no way I can cover even half of what I read, but I will try to share SOME of the most interesting parts. At one time anesthesiologists started to question whether the drugs they used actually put people to sleep or whether they just paralyzed patients and gave them amnesia. Remember the twilight sleep, where women were given amnesia drugs during childbirth? They felt the pain of labor but were happy to have forgotten it. The obvious ethical question is – does it matter? If you come through the surgery alright and you have no memory of any pain or discomfort, does it matter whether or not you felt any pain? My (I think obvious) answer is – yes! Of course it matters. I hope it didn’t hurt when they were breaking my wisdom teeth and digging them out – I would hate to think that I suffered at all, even if I don’t remember it either way.

Moving on – Michael Pollan has taught us a lot about the food industry, but I don’t think he told us about chicken sexing. Evidently it’s very hard to tell the difference between a boy and girl chicken until they are around 4-6 weeks of age. This used to be very costly for chicken farmers because they had to keep the boys alive for all that time until they were sure that they could be ground up and made into animal feed since boy chickens are not as useful (or tasty) as girl chickens. In the 1920s someone discovered that there IS a way to tell earlier – it’s a complicated process that involves years of study and a special technique for squeezing the one-day-old baby chick just enough so that its intestines are temporarily ejected. Long story short, chicken sexing experts say they have some sort of “intuition” that helps them know which are the useless boys, but really their memories have been trained to notice tiny patterns that the rest of us would not be able to see.

Experts in general are good at what they do because they have trained for years and years. Their brains respond to all of this training and allow them to remember things in their area of expertise far better than anyone else, even if they are only of average intelligence (which most of us are, obviously). I like the idea that we can actually train our brains. As I blog about more and more books, I try to find connections between what I am reading and what I have already read. Sometimes I have to search my archives for something I think I have written about, but I find that I am starting to find those connections in my head a little faster the longer (and more frequently) I blog. Sadly, sometimes I look at an old post and have very little memory of writing it – I hope this will change as I make more relevant connections between different books and subjects.

Here is a useful passage for those looking for tips to improve our brains:

Monotony collapses time; novelty unfolds it. You can exercise daily and eat healthily and live a long life, while experiencing a short one. If you spend your life sitting in a cubicle and passing papers, one day is bound to blend immemorably into the next–and disappear. That’s why it’s important to change routines regularly, and take vacations to exotic locales, and have as many new experiences as possible that can serve to anchor our memories. Creating new memories stretches out psychological time, and lengthens our perception of our lives.

Thank goodness for books – not everyone can afford “exotic” vacations – I hope reading about them counts. As for creating new memories, I think this is great advice. My sister takes her little guy somewhere every weekend, even if it’s just the park. I look at her and I feel kind of inadequate as a parent, because I have not done the same with my daughter. Tonight there was a hot air balloon festival in town and her grandparents took her – I sat out because I have a cold and feel quite yucky – after reading this I kind of wish I had dragged myself there, congestion and all. I only saw her for a few minutes this morning because she woke me up to show me her curly hair – then I went right back to sleep. She had such a fun day that she was carried straight to bed when she came home.

Another tip – rehearsing our memories helps us keep them for longer. I have been thinking about this one lately in the context of photographs. I take a lot of photos of Little Mama, and I got her a scrapbook for her birthday (she turned three this week). My plan is to let her assemble the pages, maybe once a week or so, using photos I have taken, stickers, and colorful paper. I will write what she wants me to write until she can do it herself. I think this might be a nice way to help her “rehearse” her memories, having them in a book she has “written” herself. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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By jamie, June 9, 2010 7:04 pm

When I was a kid, some of my favorite books were the The Little House on the Prairie books, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I read them over and over again. One scene I vividly remember is when the family contracts malaria from mosquitoes (I was allergic to mosquitoes, so maybe that’s why this story has stayed with me). Laura wakes up parched, and crawls to the water, which she drinks with a ladle. She survives the sickness, but not everyone lived through malaria – this was one example to me that, while it might sound very romantic to go back into the past, it was actually much more dangerous than today in many ways.

I have read the first two chapters of this book so far. Logan and Heather Ward sell their New York apartment and spend several months trying to find a farmhouse appropriate for their experiment – to spend a year as though they are living in the year 1900.

They buy a lot of their supplies at antique shops and auctions, which makes me think that this might be a very costly undertaking. The plan is to grow and store their own food, and to avoid anything that was not available before 1900. Tricky.

They are unfamiliar with horses, but buy one for transportation (with a buggy), and also a goat for milk and chickens for eggs. I am especially interested in reading how they do with this, because I have flirted with the idea of getting chickens myself. Of course, when I read how Heather milks the goats, it occurred to me that it takes a non-fear of animals to even try something like this, so that probably boots me out.

I was worried about their little boy, Luther, because he was about the same age as my Noa during the experiment. The other night we had an incident where we needed a phone, and we thought we might a need a doctor, and weren’t sure how to get either one: We have been sick, so we’ve been taking decongestants. I can’t take them on an empty stomach, so I put my pills beside my dinner plate in anticipation of taking them the other night. Baby Girl was having trouble reaching her plate, so I reached over to her to move her chair closer to mine. It only took a few seconds, but during that time, my little daughter managed to get one of my pills into her mouth and (thankfully) decided she did not like the taste.

In the U.S. you can call Poison Control (memorize the number – it’s 1-800-222-1222), and most of the time we have Internet access too, to find out what the potential danger might be. Hubby rushed her to the bathroom where he induced vomiting – my little trouper dutifully threw up, which gave us a layer of calm, but only a thin one. He finally dug out his cell phone, even though he was convinced that a U.S. 800 number was a non-possibility. After some number-fumbling, he connected with Nevada Poison Control (!?!) who put our minds at ease – she had not consumed a lethal dose, but we would have to monitor her just in case. She is now fine, but I read the intro-chapters of this book after this experience, and was extremely angry with little Luther’s parents for putting him in a potentially dangerous situation without any means of calling for help – I needn’t have worried – they kept the phone line, and put the telephone in a drawer, so they could call if their little one got in trouble. Whew.

Other posts about See You in a Hundred Years:

Post 1: See You in a Hundred Years, by Logan Ward
Post 2: An Authentic Experience
Post 3: 9/11 and 1900
Post 4: Cooking, Baking, and Gardening