Saturday, April 21, 2012

S is for Sierra, Judy “Wild About Books”


Wild About Books by Judy Sierra
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A librarian unleashes knowledge onto lower animals at a local zoo, causing an growth of literary culture in the animal population as well as a contempt for the things of man. This book is a scathing look at the library industry as a whole, how it began and how it will fall.

We begin our tale as Molly the Librarian “mistakenly” drives her bookmobile into the zoo. Despite the wording that this was no plan on Molly’s part, she decides to set up shop and entice the inhabitants of the zoo with literary works none the less. I doubt Molly’s motives in this are pure, as she is the prototypical temptress that leads the world into disarray. Compare this to the rise of the public library and the idea of “free information” in society.

Molly eggs on the aberrant behavior of the animals by pushing her book delights on the local population, causing them to break free from their cages and seek her out. Rather than call local authorities such as the suspiciously absent zoo keepers, Molly gives books freely to the animals with promises of more if they return. Our librarian teaches the creatures how to care and maintain their new found knowledge, just as the library taught the public. She even goes so far as to adjust her product to fit the needs of individual creatures, such as waterproofing for otters, without regard for the materials themselves. Just as Molly caters to the public’s wants and needs, so does the library cater to the public, creating spaces and places for them and not for the knowledge.

A tipping point comes when the need for output overcomes the need for input, causing Molly to be irrelevant. The animals themselves become the creators, authoring and critiquing tomes of various literature, putting aside their need for literature and by extension Molly. Sure, she may be there, helping them, but it is the animals themselves that are generating content now. As the rise of the Internet foreshadowed the fall of the public library as “knowledge centers,” so does Molly’s position in zoo society.

In the end we find Molly not at the center of the tale, but on the outside looking into the world that was created by her actions. The animals rule the information, are its gatekeepers, and Molly must trust that they can do so for themselves. While this tale ends on an optimistic note, one cannot help but wonder what the future may bring. Will future zoo inhabitants, our children, be as capable as those who first struggled to break free? As Molly, the librarian, recedes into the the distance as an antiquated relic, will future generations keep her love of information, imagination and knowledge sacred? Or will the animal society forget the past and devolve into a culture of commenters and collectors who do not learn from their mistakes but delete them with a keystroke?

Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Friday, April 20, 2012

R is for Reed, Lynn Rowe “Color Chaos”


Color Chaos! by Lynn Rowe Reed

R is for Reed, Lynn Rowe “Color Chaos”

As reviewed by Edward Areteast, translated by Google Translate

Summary

Oh, it's pure art and history of pain. They suffer from color to see the world as the gods,that this little baby crying Rainbows. But ... What? Oh yes, this is not art. Clarity. Let me explain.

This man wants to become an illustrator, I have a few things. After his mother to stick to flowers. Expresses its satisfaction. This is not an entity in this world, people do not want to enter the Associate Director.

Thus, these human remains, which are sensitive to the color bar bastard. I swearrevenge, and the color wheel started to develop such ustroystva.Constructicons Voltronor a combination of their own power, the head of the color wheel. What is the name of the artist with the help of plug-ins, as well as the heroes and heroines, such as to remove the screw.

This is a work of art.

Edward, thank you!

Original Text:

Résumé

Oh, c'est une histoire de l'art pur et malheur. Que les dieux pleurent en-ciel sur ces petits enfants car ils voir la couleur essuyé de leur monde. Mais, bonjour ... qu'est-ce? Oh oui,c'est l'art. La pureté. Laissez-moi vous expliquer.

Il ya ce petit garçon, cette chose toute petite qui souhaite seulement d'être un illustrateur.Alors sa mère, elle lui achète la couleur de marquage des bâtons. Il est tellement excité.Entrez l'homme bâtard, le gars vice-principal qui ne souhaite pas que le monde soit tel qu'il est.

Donc, cet homme jette tout bâtard du marquage couleur des bâtons dans la poubelle où ils deviennent sensibles. Ils jurent vengeance et commencer à construire un tel dispositifqui est la roue des couleurs. Comme Voltron ou les Constructicons avant eux, leurs pouvoirs se combinent pour former de roue de couleur capitaine. Avec l'aide de l'artisteQuel est son plug Nom, ils surmontent l'homme bâtard et devenir des héros et des héroïnes.

C'est un morceau des maîtres.

Merci, Edward!


Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Q is for “Quiet, Wyatt!” by Bill Maynard

Quiet, Wyatt!Quiet, Wyatt! by Bill Maynard
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As reviewed by A Guy Who Has Not Had a Cigarette All Day And Really Really Really Hates, Well, Everything

Summary
This story is about a kid. Nobody likes him, then he saves a puppy and for some reason everybody likes him.

This book is giving an unrealistic image of life to children. If everyone hates you, then that’s just the way it is going to be. You may find happiness in one thing, one great thing that makes you happy and makes you feel good and lets you walk outside of the job you got shoveled into for a miserable 15 minutes every couple of hours then boom! They will take that thing away cause some people think that by being near you they themselves will lose happiness if you are happy. Everyone is a bunch of horrible monsters.

Oh, yeah, I forgot, he saves a puppy! That’s really freakin cute. Shows the kid is not a horrible monster. Great. That’s the best most of us will live up to: not being a horrible monster. Good job. Now every kid that reads this will put animals into harmful situations and expect to be rewarded for speaking up. Some of those kids won’t succeed, though. Little Puddin’ might get run the hell over.

Then the kid runs away from home. Gets into prostitution. Gets crabs. And nobody will give a crap until he starts smoking then they beat that kid until he does not care about anything anymore.  Metaphorically.

Jesus, now the guy three doors down from me is smoking in his bedroom. Camels. Touche, universe.

Thanks, um... Non-Cigarette Smoking Man

Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

P is for Pinkwater, Daniel “Dancing Larry”


Dancing Larry by Daniel Pinkwater
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As read by Someone with No Time on His Hands

Summary
A bear dances and in the end, puts on a show. What? Don’t look at me like that. It’s what happens. I can’t be cute all the time, I’m late for work. Fine. His name’s Larry. That’s all this book is about.

Why was it banned?
Probably was not, although it maybe if we keep coddling our children. I can see a world where people are afraid books will convince people that bears are nice. Like this lady:


Some people just need out of the equation folks. This earth is too small for the idiotic to rule it.

What is the moral?
Love thy neighbor, unless thy neighbor is a polar bear then take that thing down. Or move. Probably move, it’s not like the polar bear got up enough equity to come to where you are. Your dumbass probably went to him, which means you deserve what you get.

How do I teach this?
Slowly.

What other lessons can come from this book?
What? Love of country.  What the hell?  This is ridiculous. Why am I being asked these questions? Where am I?

Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

O is for O’Neill, Mary “The Sound of Day, The Sound of Night”


The Sound of Day, the Sound of Night by Mary O'Neill
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As reviewed by Dennis The Baker

Summary
You want a summary? Here ya go: This book’s nothing but the onomatopoeic ramblings of a mind cursed with synesthesia while drinking mountain lightning from a jug laced with LSD. The shift from day to night is almost as absurd as the tonal shifts from sound to sound, like a chicken in an ass-kicking contest hosted by KFC.

The narrative is almost as nonexistent as Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster from an Illuminati meeting to an all night kegger with the friend of a friend who saw somebody die from mixing pop rocks and Coke. Each page reads like a Speak-and-Spell with Tourette Syndrome where the illustrator bet the author she could not find three things wrong with each picture. The only thing that changes in this piece is the position of the sun in the sky.

And speaking of changing, imagine yourself in a world where a set of characters live that make Pooh Corner look like Stalingrad after the war. The blandness of how each comes across only brings helpful visions of rooms of men staring a walls expectantly waiting for the paint to melt so they would have something to do with their pathetic lives. This family is either the beginning of the most boring cult of all time or an example as to how the American family was dreamed up when our country was founded by a Revolutionary soldier that took one too many musket balls to the head.

Hallelujah, where’s the pie?!

Thanks, Dennis!


Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Monday, April 16, 2012

N is for Newman, Barbara Johansen “Tex & Sugar: A Big City Kitty Ditty”

Tex & Sugar: A Big City Kitty Ditty by Barbara Johansen Newman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As Read by Red Poetguy

Here’s a tale of love found in the big city,
Two country cats, one rugged and one pretty.

They both went to seek out their fame,
But each other they found, and it was a little lame.

The grey one had testicles, and he plucked guitar.
The orange one sang sweetly and looked good from afar.

Tex the male ended up washing dishes,
Sugar the fem was a female cat... probably liked to eat fishes...

The cats started singing out of desperation,
So sad were they that they looked for... um.. inspiration.

I started singing, much like these little kitties,
But all I could find were a bunch of pitties.

That last rhyme was lame, much like the rest,
I’m out of ideas, I’m doing my best.

Stop staring at me like that, I don’t need your crap.
You try to make up a dumb rhyme about a book about two singing cats that fall in love after failing at their dreams cause alone their dreams were worthless but together they work out and that’s frickin beautiful but you are just a crappy poet alone in your room in your tighty whities staring at a computer screen trying to come up with a dumb poem because some library jackass asked you to review a children’s book and you thought “Hey that’s a way to get exposure for your poetry” but when you start writing all you have is just junk that’s not fit for basic human consumption. Man, I hate this. Oh, yeah... a rhyme... wrap?

I dunno. Merry Christmas.

Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

M is for Minor, Wendell “My Farm Friends”

My Farm Friends by Wendell Minor
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As reviewed by George Orwell from recently unearthed documents

Mr. Minor has written a biting piece of propaganda that attempts to teach our children that all animals are happy being oppressed and penned. This book is an invitation to delight in the secrets of the flesh and to deny our existence. It also has cute illustrations. But no bunnies! Father’s farm had bunnies with their soft wittle fur that I would bury my face in and go “whosa good bunny-boo?” Ahem. Sorry.

The first notion one gets from this illustrated pack of lies is the “duty of the working class.” The rooster crows as its job and the text invites you to “cock-a-doodle too.” The cats work clearing the barn of mice while no attention is made to the poor mice starving and dying in the streets. That the working class is given this attention confirms that the idea here is to break the reader down, to force the question “are you doing your part?”

The next question the text asks is “do you think you can’t get lower?” Not outright, of course. The question is illustrated by mentioning that pigs bath in mud because they can’t sweat and chickens take dust baths. Ha, look at that, those do look light red combs on a rooster. I want a rooster, maybe a baby chick. Gah! Look at me, turning to their ways. The entire treatment is disgusting.

The final theme is one of acceptance, of “welcome to the farm.” This shameful mocking of society’s weak is presented by a sheep who gets nervous when alone and loves its flock. “Conform!” this text shouts at you from behind wool-covered, aw, wittle lamb. Did you stray away, little fella? Just nuzzle up to mama and- Holy Mother of Mendel!!! I was almost taken in by that obvious Christ imagery. Blast this book, and blast its final message: that the animals are waiting to welcome you to the farm. They are not!

The depiction of this farm is a desperate attempt to teach people that it is okay to be animals, to be herded and penned. The notion of a unified farm culture is an illusion meant to keep the American people locked in stasis. I mean, what would happen if the animals in this farm rose up, threw off their human oppressors...  hmmm, that gives me an idea.

Thanks, Mr. Orwell!

Each day in the month of April 2012 (starting the first Sunday, then excluding every other Sunday) we will blog using the alphabet as our guide. I will link each post to the letter and you can find them all on this page. If you want to keep up with the challenge for my fellow bloggers, check out the A to Z Challenge Page.