The Why Read Quiz: The Key

The key to last week's quiz.  I used this only as a springboard for discussion.  It was meant to a fun icebreaker.  After all, who's going to take a writing workshops facilitator serious who has this introduction: "Welcome in, I thought we'd get started with a quiz."?  Incidentally, anyone who got question 13 really amazed and pleased me.

1. What is a Catch-22? A circular problem, term coined by Joseph Heller in Catch-22.
2. Who is Big Brother? Party leader in George Orwell’s 1984.
3. Who lived next door to Nick Carraway? Jay Gatz, AKA Gatsby in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.
4. Who wrote: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”? Henry David Thoreau in Walden.
5. What was Alice Walker’s color? Purple, in The Color Purple.
6. “It was the best of times and_it was the worst of times.” In Charles Dickens Tale of Two Cities.
7. Who is Mr. Rosewater? He makes appearances in many of Kurt Vonnegut’s novels.
8. What 1960s rock band wanted to “Break on through to the other side? Jim Morrison’s The Doors.
9. Where did they get their name? Aldous Huxely’s The Doors of Perception, and he got the title of the book from a William Blake poem.
10. What is Soma? A drug used by residence of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.
11. At what temperature does paper combust? 451 degrees, a book by Ray Bradbury.
12. In what book would a reader meet Piggy? Lord of the Flies, by William Golding.
13. What novel begins: “In watermelon sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar”? In Watermelon Sugar by Richard Brautigan.
14. Who fought the Cyclops? Odysseus, in Homer’s The Odyssey.
15. Lord Henry Wotton watched Basil Hallward paint a picture of whom? Dorian Gray in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray.
16. What was Lee Chong’s business? Groceries in John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row.
17. How were the principal figures of the Lost Generation? Any of them including; Hemingway, Stein and Fitzgerald.
18. How is Clyde Wynant commonly referred? The Thin Man in Dashell Hammet’s novel of the same name.
19. What story was told by Mr. Lockwood, or was it Nellie? Wuthering Heights by Emily B ronte
20. In what book would a reader find: “What has happened will happen again, and what has been done will be done again, and there is nothing new under the sun”? The Book of Ecclesiastes in The Bible.

The Why Read Quiz

I used the following quiz as an ice breaker for a writing workshop I taught a few years ago.  It's pretty fun stuff.  I found it to be a better opening exercise rather than the who are you and why are you here stuff we normally get at the onset of such workshops.  I post it here for fun.  I'll post the answers next week.  Enjoy.

1. What is a Catch-22?
2. Who is Big Brother?
3. Who lived next door to Nick Carraway?
4. Who wrote: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”?
5. What was Alice Walker’s color?
6. “It was the best of times and________________________”
7. Who is Mr. Rosewater?
8. What 1960s rock band wanted to “Break on through to the other side"?
9. Where did they get their name?
10. What is Soma?
11. At what temperature does paper combust?
12. In what book would a reader meet Piggy?
13. What novel begins: “In watermelon sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar”?

14. Who fought the Cyclops?
15. Lord Henry Wotton watched Basil Hallward paint a picture of whom?
16. What was Lee Chong’s business?
17. How were the principal figures of the lost generation?
18. How is Clyde Wynant commonly referred?
19. What story was told by Mr. Lockwood, or was it Nellie?
20. In what book would a reader find: “What has happened will happen again, and what has been done will be done again, and there is nothing new under the sun”?

On the Gaining of Perspective

It seems we're back at it again. I am here, and you are there. I meander through my thoughts and scratch out a few words on the process of reading and writing. I feel for the 'you' in this situation because the process of meandering through my thoughts must be easier for me than for you. And here we are, October 2012 and there is a perspective worth gaining.

Lucian is just over nine weeks old. Nine weeks. For me it has been an incredibly long nine weeks. As the baby gets used to life, we are getting used to life with him. If there is anything I've learned in my nine weeks of fatherhood it is that the time spent in quiet reflection is astounding. I seem to spend a great deal of time trying to get poor Lucian to sleep. Once he's asleep I spent a great deal more time making sure he stays asleep. Often I sit on the sofa and hold him. When he's awake we have staring contests and when he's asleep I just stare at him. There is a certain amount of Zen to it in that my mind will empty out completely and it's as if my intellect achieves the higher plain of the nine week mark.

That's to say nothing of the thoughts that drift in and out. For instance, I wonder sometimes if I was destined to do the things I've done because in the spring of 1989 I played the lead role in the high school play. What? Yeah, right. Well, the play Jabberwock was a fictionalized version of James Thurber's life as a young man based loosely on his writings and juxtaposed on Lewis Carrol's poem. At the time, 1989, high school, I was not interested much in reading and writing. I liked the theater because I fit right in. I liked my theater mates. I liked making out with the girls when we wrapped up in the curtains. I liked the smell of the old place. It was nothing more than what it was, a high school play fueled by maturing egos and simmering hormones.

The school play, of course, is a passing thought as I hold Lucian. As I look at him, I realize that I will be dreadfully near Social Security age when he gets to the age of the high school play leading role. Perhaps by then no one will remember James Thurber. I digress. It all comes down to the perspective one gets at the key times in life. And if there is ever a key time in life it is the time when the first baby arrives at the house and the opening weeks of life when there are really two times: crying time and quiet time. Either time is a strange time for thought.

Then there is the thought of what do I want to be when I grow up? How many people have that thought? All of us, I suspect. But what about the people who are already grown up and have been for some time? Why would this thought still come through in our minds? I'm sure there are all kinds of clinical and psychological terms for this sort of thought and incessant longing for less discontent future activities. I am no different.

Aside from the leading role in the high school play I can think of dozens of other accomplishments I've had in my younger years. They offer me no real perspective now as many of them have little of no barring on present events. In fact surviving the war, living abroad; being a student, being summer camp director; living halfway to hell and back, to mention nothing of the writer's life I have now come to this perspective: when I hold my son all that stuff makes great barroom stories. I don't even get off to the barroom so much anymore.

Rather, I look at a little boy who looks a great deal like me and once he's asleep I look out at the cloud filled sky of Portland, OR. I search the clouds and recollections which are oftentimes the in same place and I wonder, what is the perspective I need to get here? And furthermore, is a perspective important? When it comes to this writing life: how much of this should I write down?

Ever Been Hungover? Dysphoric Notions, Part 3

The conversations move the way conversations do, at least that's the way it seems. It could be that the conversations move as they do and I think they're moving more than they are because I've been somewhat delirious during these late weeks. I suppose the real beauty in the delirium is the cause of it. These last few months have been marked with milestones, changes and new life. And of all the things to cause delicious delirium it is Lucian. Having a newborn at home has interrupted the flow of life I once knew, and it has interrupted sleep. So, when I'm out in the world mixing with people, mixing with conversations I'm at once tired and distracted. My thoughts drift to the world at home where Janice and Lucian and I hang around all day and discuss matters of great importance like all those palindromes associated with babies: poop and boob and mom and dad. You get the point. And this is the undercurrent of thought in October in Portland, OR and there are so many things going on outside the walls and membranes and that's that. And the conversation moves on.

In my small Portland circle, I'm often engaged in conversation of family and happenings. In recent weeks, it's been conversations about Dysphoric Notions. Of course, right? One of the biggest conversations around the novel is the setting of Denver, CO. There is no secret about Denver, or my love of the place. It's just so funny that I am here, the book is (set) there and the conversation moves on from there.

Ever Been Hungover? Dysphoric Notions Part 2

In January of 2009, gin was my drink, and everybody knew it. I daresay that gin was my drink for many years before that. And if it weren't for this wonderful period of sobriety I've been enjoying over these last several months, gin would probably still be my drink. But in January 2009, and the night before I turned in my graduate thesis, gin was definitely being poured and I was drinking it.

Jimmy said: “Hey Anthony, I brought us a bottle of gin.” I said, “Great.” He said, “A handle of it.” After dinner, Julie and Jimmy and I went back to their dorm and sure enough Jimmy had brought a handle of gin. What's that? Well, it's 1.75 liters of Bombay Extra Dry. And if you don't know how much 1.75 liters might be, think of a large bottle of pop, subtract about one glass and go. I mixed three glasses of gin and juice, I distributed them, one each—Julie, Jimmy and me. We slugged down the first round. It was early and the mix was nice. “Bartender,” Jimmy said. He shook the ice in the plastic tumbler. “Make us another.” I said, “Now Jimmy, if I make another, there is no going back. We're going to kill this bottle.”

I counted eight drinks that I made for other people between 6 p.m., when we started and when we finished at 1 a.m. I reckon that's less than about the .750 ml of the gin and that Jimmy and I split the liter. The night was a rough one. That was Plainfield, Vermont on a January night in 2009 before we were to graduate and move back to the places from where we all came.