Friday 30 August 2013

The Queen and I - Sue Townsend

Following on from The Restraint of Beasts, here is another gift book (from my lovely ex-colleagues at OUP), another comic book, another one which seems like it might have a message hiding in there somewhere... but entirely different.  Knowing how much I love, admire, and respect Queen Elizabeth II, my colleagues got me (amongst other Queen-related things) The Queen and I (1992) by Sue Townsend, and I wolfed it down in a day or two.

The premise of The Queen and I is something that makes me Royalist blood run cold - a politician called Jack Barker uses subliminal pictures on television to brainwash the nation into voting his party to power, and his first act is to abolish the monarchy.  (Shudder!)  The Queen and her family are sent off to live on a council estate in Hellebore Close - known locally as Hell Close.  There they must make do with benefits or the pension, with only the possessions they can fit in their tiny houses (most of which end up getting stolen pretty quickly anyway.)  The country rather falls apart with a hopeless leader in charge, but of more interest is seeing how the royals get along without any money and in surroundings which they are far from used to.

And, oh, it is funny!  But more than that, it is believable - not the premise (even if we ever lose our monarchy - Heaven forbid! - it's unlikely they'd get aggressively shipped off to council houses) but the way in which various members of the Royal family would respond.  Sue Townsend writes very affectionately of the royals; although it's tricky to work out whether or not she thinks the institution is a good one, she certainly has a lot of respect for certain members of it.  Chief among these is, of course, the Queen.  She behaves exactly as I would expect - that is, she just gets on with it.  Since she spends her life seeing every imaginable culture, habits, and traditions, it's unlikely that there is anything that could wrong foot her socially.  The one thing she cannot quite get used to (and this is where Townsend's social critique of Britain comes into play, one suspects) is how little money people are expected to live on, and how inefficient and difficult the system is.  Here she is, chatting with a social worker...
"And what is the current situation regarding your personal finances?" 
"We are penniless.  I have been forced to borrow from my mother; but now my mother is also penniless.  As is my entire family.  I have been forced to rely on the charity of neighbours.  But I cannot continue to do so.  My neighbours are..." The Queen paused. 
"Socially disadvantaged?" supplied Dorkin. 
"No, they are poor," said the Queen.  "They, like me, lack money.  I would like you, Mr. Dorkin, to give me some money - today, please.  I have no food, no heat and when the electrician goes, I will have no light." 
But not everybody is so resilient.  Other royals do cope well with the move - Prince Charles is thrilled about getting to some quiet gardening, Princess Anne loves getting out of the limelight, and the Queen Mother (bless her!) finds the whole thing hilarious, so long as she's got a drink or two next to her.  But Prince Philip takes to his bed and won't engage at all, Princess Margaret similarly refuses to acknowledge that her situation in life has changed - while Princess Diana is saddened chiefly by the lack of wardrobe space.  It's quite odd to read a book about the royals set before Diana died - because it is impossible to think of her without that context now.  In 1992, she could still be affectionately mocked as a clothes horse and a flibbertigibbet.  Indeed, remembering how old all the royals were in 1992 and reformulating my view of them is quite tricky, since I was only 7 then, and don't remember (for instance) Princess Anne's days as a relative beauty.

As far as social commentary goes, Townsend obviously wants to draw attention to the plight of the poor, in the battle against bureaucracy and out-of-touch officials, but perhaps it doesn't help her cause that every working-class character is essentially kind and decent.  A few rough diamonds, but they're all there to help each other at the drop of a hat, issuing generous platitudes when needed and handy at knocking together a makeshift hearse.  Of course, that's better than making them all selfish, violent thugs or benefits cheats, but it might have been a more effective portrait of a working-class community had the characters and their traits been more varied, as they would be in any other community.

Which is a small quibble with a very clever, very amusing page-turner.  The idea was brilliant, but in other hands it wouldn't have worked.  I can only agree with the Times review quoted on the back cover: "No other author could imagine this so graphically, demolish the institution so wittily and yet leave the family with its human dignity intact."

For the Love of Old Books, Sheet Music & Fountain Pens



 by Priscille Sibley





On a recent visit with my older sister, she told me I took all the good stuff from our parents. To be honest, they didn’t leave much behind of value, but as the youngest, I would have traded more years with them for the few material things I received. Honestly though, at the time, my sister could have taken anything she wanted or at least have gotten dibs on it.

My sisters didn’t seem to have any interest in the old books I pulled off the shelves, my grandfather’s sheet music (from his days playing honky-tonk in a speakeasy), or the odds and ends, snapshots, whistles, or an old fountain pen, I found in my grandfather’s desk after he died. At the time these things were trash to my siblings. The junk didn’t go in my oldest sister’s house or into the sleek, newlywed digs of my middle sister. I kept them because I still needed a connection to my parents, and to my grandfather.

Novels are also usually about connections – or disconnects. Human beings push and pull away from each other like protons and electrons in atoms, always circling, always prying and stretching from those connections. It causes tension. In a story, you need that tension. Even if you read the first sentence here, you might recognize that my things, these loose odds and ends, these material mementos I kept to connect were, at least during that conversation with my sister, a source of tension. (It didn’t escalate. I wouldn’t let it that day.)

When we write, there should be tension on every page. Even those things, which can bind, can tear people apart. Let them. As you write, let the tension roar. 


Thursday 29 August 2013

The Restraint of Beasts - Magnus Mills

Magnus Mills has been hovering around the edges of my reading consciousness for some time, including having read two of his novels - The Maintenance of Headway (good, but didn't quite work for me) and All Quiet on the Orient Express (much better) - but I've always felt that I could really love a Mills novel, given the right novel and the right timing.  Well, about three years ago my then-housemate Mel gave me The Restraint of Beasts (1998) - where better to re-start with Mills than with his first novel?  (N.B. Mel, now that I've finally read the book you got me for my birthday in 2010, will you buy me books again?)

Our narrator is anonymous (which I confess I hadn't noticed until I read the Wikipedia page for the novel) and has just become the foreman of a Scottish fencing company, led by the domineering Donald and contentedly useless Robert.  He is a foreman of a small team - Gang no.3 - which consists of just three people, including himself.  The others are Tam and Rich - inseparable but taciturn, fairly lazy, and undemonstrative.  Having been introduced to his team (and discovering that he is replacing Tam in the foreman position), the narrator and his colleagues are sent off to fix the fence of a local farmer, which has been erected poorly.

If this is all sounding rather dull, then I should let you know - the activities of the heroes (or lack thereof) are determinedly boring.  They put up fences.  They travel to England to do so, and vary the monotony of hammering in posts only with trips to the local pubs, which provide almost no incident, and are generally almost empty.

One of the things studying English for so long has enabled me to do, I hope, is identify how a writer creates certain effects or atmosphere.  I hope Stuck-in-a-Book generally shows that sort of insight into a novel, or at least tries to.  But with Mills and The Restraint of Beasts (which is my favourite of the three I've read so far), I am almost entirely unable to say why it works.  Here is a sample paragraph for you...
Their pick-up truck was parked at the other side of the yard.  They'd been sitting in the cab earlier when I went past on my way to Donald's office.  Now, however, there was no sign of them.  I walked over and glanced at the jumble of tools and equipment lying in the back of the vehicle.  Everything looked as though it had been thrown in there in a great hurry.  Clearly it would all need sorting out before we could do anything, so I got in the truck and reversed round to the store room.  Then I sat and waited for them to appear.  Looking around the inside of the cab I noticed the words 'Tam' and 'Rich' scratched on the dashboard.  A plastic lunch box and a bottle of Irn-Bru lay on the shelf.
And, believe me, things get technical.  I've learnt more about putting up fences than I'd ever imagined I'd know.   (Fyi, they're usually being built to pen in animals - the restraint of beasts, y'see.  Excellent title.)  Mills worked as a fencer himself for some years, so you could be forgiven for thinking this was turning into an odd autobiography.

But, in amongst this, occasionally bizarre or momentous things DO happen, and they are treated with as casually and matter-of-factly as the tedium of standing in the rain with a fence hammer.  That is one of the reasons I loved this novel - I love surreal and black humour, but I hate anything disgusting, unduly frightening, macabre, or viciously unkind (so psychological thrillers almost always off the menu.)  Mills lets the moments of darkness become instantly surreal simply by giving us a narrator who does not see the difference between life-changing, terrible incidents and the everyday minutiae of the construction industry.  (Note that I'm deliberately avoiding telling you what these dark moments are, because I don't want to spoil the surprise!)

Somehow, throughout plain and 'deceptively simple' (sorry, had to be done) prose, Mills expertly implies growing menace and claustrophobia.  The humour is still there - never laugh-out-loud funny, but always a dry, bleak humour - but the darkness seems to be spreading.  And from the opening pages, the reader is pulled from page to page, without almost nothing happening... how?  I don't know what is in the writing that makes it work so well, as tautly engaging as a detective novel.  It's obvious that All Quiet on the Orient Express was written after The Restraint of Beasts, because it follows a similar premise and style, but with a firmer structure.  And yet I refer The Restraint of Beasts, perhaps because it is more daring in its lack of structure.

And what is it all about?  I haven't the foggiest.  The ending (which, again, I shan't spoil) isn't conclusive at all, but dumps a whole load of clues about the meaning of the novel.  I wondered whether it might be a metaphor for fascism, or perhaps communism, or... well, I don't know.  It doesn't much matter, and I'd have been rather cross if it turned out to be a heavy-handed metaphor for anything (only George Orwell can get away with that), so I'm happy to let it be simply an excellent, bewildering, disturbing placid novel.  If you've yet to try Mills, start here.

It's been a while since I did a 'Others who got Stuck into...' section, because I have a terrible memory, so...


Others who got Stuck into The Restraint of Beasts...

"He is able to turn the ordinary into something sinister in a way that defies description, so that you're never quite sure whether a terrible event is going to happen or whether the author is just playing with your sense of the dramatic." - Kim, Reading Matters

"There are a number of things said that seem to be evasions or euphemisms that are not explained. Everything is sinister and suspect." - Kate, Nose in a Book

"It has an undercurrent of mystery and black farce that I felt it could have done without, as it remains an unresolved and unlikely subplot." - Read More Fiction

Tuesday 27 August 2013

Great British Bake Off: Series 4: Episode 2

Last week: hundreds of bakers swarmed around the tent, and kept appearing until the last minute of the show.  They claim there were 13 (yes, 'baker's dozen' makes an appearance in the episode 2 what-happened-last-week) but I stopped counting at forty.  And you were all very welcoming of my recap and said lovely things, which was very encouraging!  Thank you so much.


This week it's Bread Week, which of course means that the intro is filled with various people telling us that it's Paul Hollywood's speciality, and nary a Mary in sight.  Maybe she doesn't care about bread.  Maybe she's busy shrieking at someone in make-up for having the wrong eyelash curler.  It is not for us to know.

As for the bakers in the intro - my eye is on Teary Ruby (note to self: make this a better pun on Ruby Tuesday... Ruby Tearday?) Ruby Tearday seems to be just as angry and sullen as last week, if the 'coming up next' clips are to be trusted.


If this were America's Next Top Model (note to self: try not to alienate 90% of the audience immediately) she'd be the one who'd snap at week eight and have a showdown with Tyra, who would pretend to be motherly and tell her to "own her best self" or something.  Since this is the bake off, I presume she'll just quietly leave in week three, and maybe write a passive aggressive column for Marks & Spencer's Your Home magazine.

PUN KLAXON.  Remember how the Bake Off got all self-aware about puns last week?  Well, this week they don't even introduce the topic, they just start riffing on 'Bohemiam Bapsody' and the like.  I'm a bit worried that my klaxon will self-combust in a fit of ironic self-contradiction.  But I also enjoy that blazers appear to be contagious.  And that Mel seems to be coming up with a ploy to strangle a short person.

"If I close my eyes, I'm not an accessory to the crime."
"AccessoRYE to the THYME, more like."

Our first challenge is signature bake breadsticks.  Mel solemnly entones "Breadsticks are made all over the world" - which smacks of a BBC researcher hoping to find an interesting fact about breadsticks on Wikipedia, and giving up almost immediately.  Which is quite apt, because it's a monumentally uninteresting topic.  Bread week always is.  I love bread as much as the next man - indeed, unless the next man is Paul Hollywood, I love it rather more.  Man cannot live by bread alone, Scripture tells us, but let's not forget that the next words are 'but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'  Amen to that, say I, but we don't need to diversify the food bit much.  I'd happily eat nothing but bread and cheese all day, everyday.  But... that doesn't make it aesthetically interesting in the way that cakes are.  So, instead, let's turn to the judges...

Is it a coincidence that Paul and Sue both have their hands in their pockets (although only Paul looks like he's in the middle of a line dance) while Mary and Mel have their hands folded in front of them?

Yes.
Mary has wrapped up warm for the day, which suggests that it's not quite as balmy as the incidental shots of lambs intend us to believe.  I tried to get a shot of Mary looking smiley and cheerful, but instead she's come out looking a little like Sean Connery...


We wander through all the recipes and suchlike, but you don't come here for those sorts of summaries, do you?  Breadsticks, I repeat, are not scintillating things (though very pleasant to eat) so it's difficult to get animated over the fact that some people are putting in cardamom and some people orange etc.  (Those are made up, by the way.  I don't remember what they put in.  Well, except for Frances.  Just wait for her...)

So, instead, let's look at the VTs this week.  Second week is, apparently, Hobbies Week, where the bakers scrabble around to find anything, anything at all, to offer.  A question once only required for dating videos and French GCSE coursework, listing your hobbies is apparently a reality show must nowadays.  Poor Glenn apparently has no home life, as we see him yet again in his school.  Awkward.

"I sleep in the store cupboard."

Stranger still is Rob, who claims to be a scientist, but apparently just looms over scientists all day.  If staring through a window counts as employment nowadays, then the people at Boswell's owe me rather a lot of money.


And then he claims to be a 'mushroom forager'.  This is so clearly not a thing that I can only presume he works for MI5.

My favourite, though, is Ali.  I forget what he does (besides panic, of course) but this is apparently a mock-up of something he's creating at work:


I've never claimed to be an expert at graphic design, but I have a feeling that typing EMPOWER YOUTH over the rest of your document - while emphatic - perhaps isn't the way to go.  He is similarly held back when it comes to bread, apparently, as he admits that it's not his forte.  I just had to capture the looks on Paul and Mary's faces when he said this...



There are a few other highlights during this section... Sue asks somebody whether they're worried that they'll 'retard the yeast', and Mary is very impressed with her.  I had my fingers crossed that she'd whip out a housepoint chart or something, but I can wait.  FOR NOW.

And I always like to illustrate what a lovely programme this is compared to other reality competitions - and this week's illustration is this this lovely moment between Mel and Beca.  Beca was almost entirely absent from last week's episode, but I have high hopes of her becoming this year's Cathryn - she's funny, she's a bit silly, and (bonus!) she's Welsh.   This shot comes after they have joked that Mary Berry is Beca's body double...

Can you imagine Alan Sugar doing this?

And I promised you an update on Frances's breadsticks - which are ginger and chocolate, but more than that, they are in the shape of matches.  And she's made a novelty-sized matchbox.  Of course she has.


Sadly this is the best angle we see it at, so I can't read the text on top, but I think (and hope and pray) that it says Berry's Matches on top.  Frances reminds me a bit of Our Vicar's Wife... in terms of being a bundle of creativity that tips that merry balance into delightfully bonkers (did I ever tell you that Mum built a gypsy caravan out of wood in our back garden?  Twice?)  (Love you Mum!)   Frances is tightrope walking along that line between sweetly ambitious and Holly-obnoxious.  (Remember Holly?  She was the one who hid a miniature gingerbread house under her croquembouche.)  At the moment she is just the right side of awful, because she is so endearingly like a Sunday School teacher gone mad, and just self-aware enough to keep the audience on side.

Sadly, it turns out to be Baker's Matches. Apt, but not Mary enough.

And I'm inaugurating the Official Mary Barry Adorable Moment of the Week Award.  Sponsorship deal yet to be confirmed, but I've got high hopes that the Andrex puppy will get on board.  Well, this week it's Mary playing spillikins with Rob's breadsticks.


If you print those out, they'll make the world's shortest flipbook.

One and a half episodes is a bit early to say how I feel about the bakers, but now that I've started to at least recognise each of them, I'm going to go ahead and judge them as people and moral individuals, the way that reality television wants me to.  Ahem.  You know that I love Beca, Christine, and Una Stubbs, but let's talk about a couple of others.

Well, Rob may not be a euphoric individual, but I feel a great deal of empathy with him - as will many of you - when I saw this moment:


And what about Kimberley?  I have a feeling that she might be a bit too cool for this show.  She's very beautiful, calm, collected, and - yes - cool.  If she gets flour smeared across her face, or trips over an open oven door and flings a tray of buns on the floor, then I think I'll find her easier to like.  Not that she's dislikeable, it's just that every moment she is on the screen, I realise how inept and hopeless my life is.  That's all.


Judging.  Nothing of interest to report - how could there be? - except that apparently I no longer notice when parts of speech are misused.  'Good bake' sounds like perfect English to me now.  But there is some hope for me passing my English DPhil, since I'm still not quite on board with "Welcome to yeast!" and "I think the raisin does bring something to the party."

Ruby Tearday does very well and SMILES!

In other news, a pig has started manning flights to a blue moon.

And we're onto the technical challenge, which is English muffins. Yummmm.  I love them, but I would question whether or not they're worth going to all that effort for... but they're not as absurd as when they made those chocolate marshmallow cake things that cost £1.50 for eight.

And Brend 2.0, whose name I have sadly forgotten - last week I suggested he could be The Brend reimagined by Woody Allen; this week I think he might be The Brend as reimagined by Alan Bennett.  It's not just the Northern accent, it's that everything he says sounds like a half-comic, half-mournful segment from Talking Heads.  (Ten points, by the way, if you are the only other person in the world who likes both America's Next Top Model and Talking Heads.  Never let it be said that my cultural references are limited, or coherent.)  Witness, for instance, his way of testing the temperature of his griddle : "I've been putting my face over it, to test the heat coming up."  Alan wishes he'd written that line.

Incidentally, while I'm making spurious televisual references, Sue's 'BAKE!' is getting steadily more like Stephen Fry playing General Melchett in Blackadder Goes Forth.

Uncanny, no?

Muffins give Sue and Mel a chance to reel off the 'Do you know the muffin man?' rhyme, and this out-of-work actor to get his Equity card.

Available for panto.

Back to muffins.  Alan Bennett's Brend (I really ought to research their actual names - like, y'know, reading my own recap from last week) suffers from Sue's carelessness, and she leaves an elbow imprint in one of his muffins... Since everyone seems to have stopped hacking at themselves with knives, this is given a fair bit of fanfare.  (Could this outbreak of self-stabbing last week have been canny contestants trying to make sure they got some notice from the camera, among the dozens of competitors?)


Bezza and Paul step forward to do the judging, and I'm impressed by pretty much all of the muffins, which do look pretty uniform across the board.  Oddly Mary doesn't seem to eat any of them - at least we don't see her doing so on screen; I know, I was waiting for a Pirate Shot - and a woman I only vaguely recognise comes last.  Frances is second, and Kimberley comes top.  No tripping over in sight.  Hmm.

I've not addressed the difference between English muffins and American muffins, have I?  Well, always leave the audience wanting more.

Showstopper challenge!  In the lead-up chat-around-the-tea-table, Mel says "Every baker goes into the final needing to do well" - Paul looks suspicious, and my pun klaxon is being judiciously oiled, but... turns out the needing/kneading pun was inadvertent.  Klaxon back away.  FOR NOW.


There isn't really anything very 'showstopper' about bread, is there?  Some bakers are bravely going to decorate their loaves, which I can't imagine working, but while it exists only in the form of the garish faux-notebook of the BBC graphics department, Ruby Tearday's peacock bread is looking quite fancy.  "We've never had a peacock!" notes Mary, adroitly.


Even better, though, is Rob's creation.  He's going to be making a loaf honouring (for honouring is the word) Paul the Psychic Octopus.  Remember him?  He may be eternally dour during the judging, but he's clearly got an adorable, geeky side.  (By 'he' I mean Rob, by the way, not Paul the Psychic Octopus.  He, sadly, is dead.  I bet he didn't see that coming.  Ba-doom-tish.  Sorry.)  The graphics department lose their head completely, and draw a nauseous hippo at a street carnival:


To do Mary justice, she is entirely unflappable, and simply enquires whether the tentacles will be attached before or after baking.  She's not quite so sanguine in the next chat.  The inspiration for Ali's yin/yang bread came to him in a dream, apparently.  Let's pause a moment to enjoy the face Mary makes in response to this information:


As far as "I have a dream" speeches go, I can't imagine it'll have quite the same legacy as some.

Let's fast forward to a few of the most memorable results - which aren't quite in the same league as the cakes, when it comes to appearance.  You can almost feel the cameraman's anxiety at finding an angle which makes them look like something other than bread rolls after a particularly glittery afternoon at a children's nursery.


If you see any peacocks that in any way resemble this,
contact the RSPB.  Do not approach.


Paul H comes over all Simon Cowell, telling Alan Bennett's Brend, about his orange/oregano bread, that "You're great with your flavours normally... and you've done it again!"  Next week he'll start saying "You're not not not... not not not in. Not."

And the octopus looks awful.  Coloured decorations on bread = unpleasant.  A nice idea, but children with colouring pencils couldn't have made this look less edible.


The edit has already prepared us for Lucy's loaf being heavily criticised for being uncreative, but I should mention that darling Christine (who pops into the programme for about five seconds this week, perhaps on the way to the post office) seemed to provide an equally non-showstopper sort of bread.  That's not to say that Lucy shouldn't be penalised for essentially sticking a bog-standard loaf on the table, but she's not alone.


Incidentally, it is only during this critique that I learn Lucy's name.  And I have a feeling that I won't need to know it in a few minutes' time...

So, let's see who came top and bottom of bread week, shall we?  Results after the jump....
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Star Baker is... the delightfully shocked Ruby Tearday, who'll need a name change:


And going home, as every moment of the programme augured, is Lucy:


To add insult to injury, she didn't even get a hair ruffle from Mary.

Next week: dessert!  Back to baking that actually looks attractive as well as tasting great, and lots of potential for things to fall over.  Hope you've enjoyed this week's recap - see you next week!

Monday 26 August 2013

Reality Check: Obama is Standing for Students

Since when did an effort to ensure that students receive a high-quality affordable education in exchange for their financial aid become unconstitutional micromanagement of colleges and universities?

This is where the rubber hits the road, folks. Where the needs of a particularly elite form of academia comes into conflict with the average student's right to an affordable public education. And apparently it's about to get ugly. 

Don't believe the hype. President Obama is not attacking faculty, he is not seeking to destroy public colleges and universities which are the workhorses of higher education, and for pete's sake he is not proposing a pseudo-NCLB for higher education.

The President's main goal is simple:  After decades of hoping that students could hold institutions of higher education and states responsible for providing a high-quality, affordable college experience that leads to degrees, he's calling the nation's attention to the fact that the market isn't working on its own and some really serious regulation is needed.  The federal government is a major financial player in higher education, far more so than in k-12, and it has a responsibility to ensure that the schools it funds do right by their students.  

Despite their loud claims to the contrary, many schools are not currently doing right by their students. Some of them are setting prices so as to absorb all available financial aid and providing students with few supports and long-shots at completing degrees. Others are taking advantage of the availability of student loans to charge the middle-class sky high prices while hiding behind "admissions standards" to leave the majority of students from the 99% out in the cold.  In addition, there are a lot of federal dollars spent unnecessarily, supplanting resources from institutional endowments. Finally, there are plenty of childish states, pulling back on their investments when the federal government provides support. 

All of that should be stopped by holding colleges, universities, and states to the standards that we now hold students.  The problems we face in higher education today are largely due to the behaviors of those institutional actors--not students.  The federal government must use the strings associated with Title IV to ensure that college administrators, boards, and state legislatures behave themselves and let the students and faculty get back to the hard work of education.

That's the goal. It's where Obama is headed, if you'll just give him a chance to get there.

And when he does: NO, this will not make student aid more complicated.  Instead of rules for millions of students we can have a much smaller set of rules for the few thousand institutions. Done right, this will not punish students for the acts of their states and institutions. It will not further push education towards earnings and away from learning.  It should do the opposite-- it focuses on the actual problem-- schools that claim to educate students while merely sifting and winnowing out the ones it doesn't want, schools that recruit students only to leave them behind once checks are signed. It helps direct students towards the states and institutions where their aid will be used well.  It helps ensure that students get degrees--which is the very least they deserve (and come on, don't tell me that in your day you really earned your degree...).

Suggesting the opposite-- suggesting that this effort will hurt students-- is a red herring. It's a line tossed about by privileged elites who have claimed to serve America's middle class while restricting enrollment through selective admissions, and promoting rhetoric that allows some elite colleges to stand on high above their peers, endlessly wealthy and exerting strong influence, helping to push millions of Americans into debt. 

Beware of these scare tactics. The President isn't going to cut students' Pell dollars. He's never going to assign letters grades to each colleges and university.  He's not bringing in standardized tests or value-added modeling for professors, or giving colleges incentives to get rid of teacher tenure or privatize.

Unfortunately, he's also not about to make college--or at least community college-- free.  Now there's something worth critiquing him for.

Sure, the President did make some errors in his plans. He should never have likened this effort to the ridiculous College Scorecard or called them "ratings"-- that trivialized the approach.  He should have challenged schools to improve to certain standards before the move to link aid to institutional performance rolls out.  Race to the Top should never have been a part of this at all, since doing this fast has never been a good way to bring about quality change. He should never have mentioned MOOCs or other such untested approaches to cutting costs, and in fact, he needn't have mentioned specific practices for cost-cutting at all.  That can and should be left up to the institutions to deal with-- he simply needs to tell them what goal posts to aim for and what the rules of engagement are.   For example, he should have reiterated the importance of educators to education, and assured the faculty of their very real place in affordable higher education. He should have placed much more emphasis on the importance of public institutions and the role that states must play in adequately funding them if those states want to get any Title IV funds for their private or profit schools.   

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.  The fact is that the current financial aid system has benefitted colleges and universities-- and states-- far more than students for a very long time, and President Obama is finally going to try to do something about it.  Did he get the plan exactly right on this initial roll out?  Nope. Will it be accomplished in the next few years? No way.   But that isn't and wasn't the point.  He is standing up for students and families and telling higher education administrators and states that they must get some skin in the game-- or get out of Title IV.   It's about damn time. 

The Crafty Art of Playmaking - Alan Ayckbourn

I loved hearing about your favourite theatrical experiences on the previous post!  Lots of us seem to cherish special moments of seeing our acting heroes.  I restricted myself to one - otherwise I'd have had to include Judi Dench in Peter and Alice, Judi Dench again in All's Well That Ends Well, Tamsin Greig in Much Ado About Nothing, Penelope Keith and Peter Bowles in The Rivals... etc. etc.

Well, all is revealed - the book, which I've realised I actually mentioned the other day, is The Crafty Art of Playmaking (2002) by Alan Ayckbourn.  I actually bought it earlier in the year, and when I started I hadn't even remembered that the play I was about to see, Relatively Speaking, was by Ayckbourn.  It wasn't until I turned to p.3 and saw the play mention (and, er, spoiled a bit) that I realised I should put the book to one side until I'd seen the play.

When I went back to it, I found The Crafty Art of Playmaking an invaluable companion to seeing Relatively Speaking, but it is a fascinating book for anybody interested in the theatre whether or not that have recently watched one of Ayckbourn's plays.  I've written before about my interest in the theatre, but usually (when I read theatrical books) is acting memoir from the twentieth century, or similar.  Other than when actors take a step into the director's chair (that metaphor fell apart) have I read much from that side of the fence, and I don't think I've read anything particularly thorough about writing plays, although A.A. Milne's autobiography has a brilliant section where he traces a few of his plays back to their roots.

That is where discussion of Relatively Speaking starts, but I don't really want to say what he writes, in case it spoils it for you... well, look away now if you don't want to know, ok?
Initial inspiration - that essential starting point - comes in all shapes and sizes.  Years ago I had the tiniest idea for a situation wherein a young man would ask an older man whether he could marry his daughter.  The twist was that the older man didn't have a daughter.
And there you go!  From there, Ayckbourn takes us through the various considerations which led to the play being set in two locations, and certain key plot points, and the like.  He also talks about many of his other plays, of course, but (having just seen this one) it was the dissection of Relatively Speaking which I found fascinating.

Throughout the book, Ayckbourn highlights 'Obvious Rules', which number from 1 to 100.  Some are not obvious, but it's a nice conceit to structure the book, and tends to summarise what he has discussed, with examples, in the previous section.  So, we have things like 'Use the minimum number of characters that you need' or 'Don't let them go off without reason' - and thins which aren't really quite rules, like 'You can never know too much about your characters before you start'.  It works well to keep the playwriting process grounded and achievable, while also showing that you can't (or shouldn't) sit down one afternoon thinking that, with a pithy epigram or two, a play will more or less form itself.

The second half of The Crafty Art of Playmaking (and the reason why it's Playmaking rather than Playwriting) concerns directing.  This was slightly less conceptual, because, instead of make-up characters and potentially infinite plots and dialogue, Ayckbourn is writing about lighting designers and wardrobe mistresses and the like.  He does seem to lump entire professions into single characteristics (wardrobe mistresses - or was it costume designers? - are apparently prone to hysterics; assistant stage managers are universally level-headed; sound engineers are over-ambitious, etc. etc.) but is perhaps being a bit tongue-in-cheek.  Hard to say.

Obviously there is a significant difference between a playwright and a director.  Well, there are many.  But a chief difference is that anybody can try being a playwright from the comfort of their own desk.  They might be appalling, but all they need are pen and paper (or electronic equivalent).  The director must have actually persuaded someone to let them have a job - and, while Ayckbourn does describe the various ways that might happen, it is with a tone of incredulity that it possibly could.  And once it has, I suppose one is no longer an amateur.

Ayckbourn's model of the director is very power-hungry and micromanaging, but perhaps that is a necessity.  Almost every section seems to end with 'but don't let them make any decision without consulting you', or something similar.  A director in this mould, who trusts nobody to do their jobs properly, would be a nightmare.  But for the first-time director, I suppose it is wise not to be ridden over roughshod.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this two-angle way of looking at playmaking is the contrast.  Ayckbourn often wrote and directed (writes and directs?) his own plays, but it is intriguing to see how he treats the potential director in the first half of the book, and the hypothetical writer in the second half.  All I can say is, he must be sometimes rather conflicted when he is doing one or the other! Incidentally, his plays are almost exclusively called the sort of unmemorable things one expects plays to be called.  Six of One, As You Were, After A Fashion, A Matter of Fact... those are all made up by me (as far as I know!) but you understand the sort of thing.  Bits of expressions, or everyday sayings, and entirely forgettable titles - curious for someone so inventive!

I found the director half of the book a bit harder to get my head around, as it is further from anything I have ever done or would ever want to do, and he is very coy about actual experiences in this area (very few names and dates, and lots of 'an actress once said...') but anybody thinking about going into directing would, I think, find it invaluable.

I don't intend to be either a playwright or a director, but I found Ayckbourn's book a fascinating glimpse behind these processes - and I think anybody interested in the theatre generally, let alone Ayckbourn specifically, would find a lot to like here.

Saturday 24 August 2013

What We Need to Hear from the President

Reviewing the range of responses to President Obama's plan to reduce college costs, and the questions that are being raised on Twitter, it seems important that the Administration clarify a few things sooner rather than later.

1. This effort to reduce college costs is a first step and thus it is not intended to solve all problems.  The President should say something more specific about the ultimate goal and what it would look like in practice. Are we working towards a free community college education? Are we trying to close achievement gaps?  What is the intended outcome down the road?

2. This is not NCLB for higher education.  The President needs to assure the public that he is not calling for standardized testing, the end of professorial tenure, or a focus on specific fields or majors.  He is trying to help more Americans access the quality post secondary education they seek, not water down quality or redefine what matters.

3. This is an effort to protect public higher education, not destroy it.  This needs to be said loud and clear, and the President's commitment to community colleges in particular must be emphasized.  Too many community college leaders are distressed at the roll-out of these plans, and I did not think that was intended.

4. This is also not an attempt to end for-profit or private higher education.  The purpose is to ensure that Title IV is spent in ways that support national needs, not to define the entire range of opportunities that can exist.  It is certainly possible to support private and for-profit educational providers without insisting that the federal government should also subsidize them.

5.  The President is not insisting that everyone must go to college-- he is  trying to help make the American Dream a reality by decoupling family income from educational opportunities.

Now, if I'm correct that these are all statements the President and his Administration can agree with, let's move on to figuring out how to take aim at the underlying inefficiencies in the current financial aid system using institutional accountability.

I think it would be a mistake to subject all institutions to metrics anytime in the near future. Most colleges and universities are good actors, keeping college costs down as long as states do their part. What we need to do as a starting point is to get a handle on (a) the bad actors and (b) federal investments that are ineffective and unnecessary.

Which schools fall into those categories? Here's a start.

BAD ACTORS

1. Institutions whose primary revenue source is Title IV.  Let's say those who get at least 75% of funding from Pell and/or student loans, for example.  These schools aren't operating based on market demand but rather are propped up by federal aid.

2. Institutions with selective admissions (say less than 75% admitted) and low average graduation rates (less than 50% over 5 years).

INEFFECTIVE, UNNECESSARY INVESTMENTS

1. Institutions with large endowments per student.

2. Institutions serving very few Pell recipients (regardless of whether this is due to admissions practices, costs, or a decision to simply be small).


If we could ensure that federal student aid no longer supported these schools, we would see fewer students attend these schools, their prices would likely fall (or they would close), and/or at minimum we'd save money that could be spent elsewhere.

If that were the first stage, then the Department of Education could begin by publishing these lists of problematic schools, issuing a warning that they have three years to get off the list or lose Title IV.


The other big issue is how to get states back to the table.  There could be a separate list of states that are put on probation based on a failure to match federal investments in higher education with state investments.  All colleges and universities in those states should be put at risk of losing Title IV-- including the privates and for-profits-- and given 5 years to address the problems.

None of this is perfect, of course, but they get us thinking about a more targeted, incremental approach to reform.  What do you think? What would you include?





Friday 23 August 2013

How to Prevent Creaming in Higher Education Performance Regimes?

One of the most prominent concerns raised about President Obama's proposed performance-based funding plan for higher education is that it could reduce access by encouraging creaming.  In other words, what's to stop colleges and universities from simply raising the bars for entry, tightening their admissions policies, in order to improve graduation rates and lower default rates?

Good question.

I'd like to make a few points and then open this up for discussion.  It's one of the big areas that needs bright minds thinking hard in search of solutions, and I hope you'll jump in with good ideas.  We're going to have to look far and wide for solutions, as we can expect that folks in education probably don't have all the answers.

1. The problem already exists.  The number of colleges raising their admissions requirements over time tells this story.  So let's not pretend like we're creating a new problem. The question is whether we're making it worse.

2. NCLB approached this challenge through the use of value-added modeling.  It didn't work there and it's probably not going to work here either, especially since it's hard to believe that we can possible account for all inputs that are external to college, in order to focus on gains made by the college itself.  Now, I know many people will disagree with me on this, including my former student Robert Kelchen, so be sure to read up on their work on the topic.

3. A weaker version of value-added modeling is risk-adjusted metrics, a regression based approach to accounting for intial student differences when looking at outcomes. I'm not sure this is going to fly either, and the Left doesn't like it since it seems to perpetuate the idea that we should "expect" students from disadvantaged families to do worse in college.  No one actually wants that, and so we try things NCLB-style,  demanding growth in graduation rates for subgroups of students. But that too doesn't prevent colleges from admitting fewer students from a given subgroup.

4. Prohibition of creaming via more metrics.  Let's say we stipulate terms regarding enrollment and admissions, in addition to outcomes.  These may have to be differentiated according to college type.  For example, in order to receive Title IV aid, a college must :
  • Enroll at least 100 students who are Pell-eligible (all colleges) and
  • Maintain a % Pell that meets or exceeds the state average among high school graduates (all public colleges and universities) 
  • Admit at least 50% of Pell applicants (all private colleges and universities)
  • OR: Use a lottery process for admission into at least 50% of the entering class
Yes, this means that very small colleges would have to be very diverse in order to participate in Title IV. It also means that all colleges and universities may have to adjust their admissions standards somewhat and change their recruiting practices. Is that a bad thing?  If they don't like it, they simply need to prove their mettle by using a lottery for admission.  Then we can really get a handle on their value-added!

Let's talk this one through further.

5. Prohibition and regulation.  Schools could be selected for an audit based on troubling trends in their admissions data.  If they were found guilty of creaming, they could be put on probation and monitored for a period of time.  If they failed that, they'd be kicked out of Title IV.

We must also ask, how much creaming might be tolerable? If the use of performance standards forced more colleges to help low-income students graduate, while reducing access for some other students, at what point would this become intolerable?


Ok, enough from me-- what are your great ideas?

Thursday 22 August 2013

A Few Things Authors Should Keep in Mind While Navigating the Wonderful World of Book Clubs.



If you’re a soon-to-be published author, you’re probably a little nervous about presentations and book clubs. Okay, maybe you’re terrified. (I was!) Among a million other things, you might be wondering…

Do real authors worry that someone will ask a question they can’t answer? Do real authors make sure they're wearing socks with no holes in them in case they’re asked to take off their shoes in someone’s home? Do real authors worry their mind will go blank in the middle of a sentence? Do they worry they’ll be compared to other novelists? Do they spill their wine and talk with spinach in their teeth? 

I’m here to tell you that, yes. Yes, they do.

Before my debut novel, THE PLUM TREE was released last year, my stomach churned when I thought about book clubs and presentations. Although I was excited about meeting readers, I wondered what would be expected of me and worried that people would change their mind about my work after meeting me in person. After all, how could an overweight grandmother with anxiety-flushed cheeks and trembling knees have anything important to say? And her book? It must have been a fluke.

Then I read an interview featuring Jenna Blum, author of THOSE WHO SAVE US, where she said books clubs helped dispel her fear of talking about her novel in front of strangers. What? Über-talented Jenna Blum, one of Oprah’s Top Women Authors, was nervous too? That was when I began to think maybe I’d be all right after all.

Now, eight months after the release of THE PLUM TREE and a dozen or so book clubs later, I’m here to tell you Jenna Blum was right. Books clubs are a wonderful way to ease into the new and often-scary “public” world of debut authorhood. After all, what could be better than having excited readers ply you with delicious food and wine while they chat and ask you questions about your novel? Trust me when I say it gives you a much-needed boost and is a great reminder of why you spent all those lonely months and years staring at your computer and talking to the dogs. And yet, like every author, you’ll eventually learn that not every book club experience is the same. To give you a heads up, here’s a list of a few things my fellow debut authors and I have learned while navigating the weird and wonderful world of book clubs.

1) Book clubs are not always about books. Although it might seem a bit strange, some book clubs don’t read the books they’ve chosen. For them, it’s a reason to get together with friends—for food, wine and conversation. While that’s all well and good, and people are certainly free to do as they please, it can be a bit awkward for an author who expects to talk about her novel. The good news is, you’ll make new friends and, hopefully, because they met you in person, some of them WILL read your book. If you’re worried about what to do in a case like this, remember that nearly everyone is interested in the process of becoming a published author. You can always talk about getting your agent, copy edits, revisions, rejection letters, word count, publishing houses, and the first time you saw your novel on bookstore shelves!

2) Sometimes the conversation goes in one direction and stays there. I know of one book club meeting where the members were so certain the book was going to be made into a movie, they spent the evening talking about auditioning for their favorite parts. While I’m sure the discussion wasn’t what the author expected, I’ll bet it was fun! If this happens to you, go with the flow and enjoy the enthusiasm!

3) Every book club needs a leader and sometimes it has to be you. One of my author friends stood by the kitchen door holding her purse while the book club fired questions at her before she even had a chance to take off her coat! Although I’d like to think that the excitement of meeting a published author caused the members to forget their manners, I’m sure it was a little awkward for all involved. Eventually, the author said, “Let’s grab our snacks and take a seat!” From there, things went well. It’s important to remember that there will be times when you have to take charge. Don’t worry, everyone will be glad you did!

4) Sometimes you’ll feel intimidated. No matter who you are or where you came from, there will come a time when it feels as though everyone in the room, and I mean everyone, is better educated and more successful than you. You might feel silly talking about your little book. But guess what? When it comes to being a published author, (unless, by chance, one of the members is also published) YOU are the most successful person in the room. The book club members, whether they’re heart surgeons, college professors or political analysts, are in awe of your accomplishment. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have invited you! Try to remember how you looked at published authors before you became one. That’s how most book club members look at you. Smile and be proud!

5) People will think that because they read your book, they know who you are. Every now and then, some questions and comments will surprise (or shock) you. Just like in the real world, people will say what’s on their minds before thinking. And sometimes, just like in the real world, they’re only being nosy. Smile, do your best to answer politely, ( or even better, with a dash of humor!) then change the subject.  

6) If you’re feeling particularly nervous, it’s okay to bring backup. One author friend sometimes takes his wife to book clubs and she’s always a big hit. I’m sure partly because the book club members want to know what it’s like to be married to a published author! I’ve taken my mother a few times because THE PLUM TREE is loosely based on her experiences growing up in Germany during WWII. People love asking her questions. I always say the more the merrier, and I imagine most book clubs feel the same way. But remember, every situation is different. If there is a formal dinner being served or restaurant reservations are being made, it’s best to ask first. Most book clubs offer to pay for the visiting author’s meal, but you can't expect them to pay for your guest. As a side note, if the meeting is being held in a restaurant, order something easy to eat (unless you don’t mind slurping spaghetti while fifteen people watch) and be prepared to take most of your meal home. You’ll be talking too much to put food in your mouth!

7) Every book club is different. And that’s what makes them so interesting and fun! Here I quote an author friend: “Each one has its own flavor unique to the members attending. I love the challenge and surprise those unique differences present. It's a little bit like improv theater. At one meeting, to my amazement, the conversation became so animated between the readers it was as if I was no longer in the room but watching behind one of those two-way mirrors they use in police stations or child psychologist clinics. Finally, one of the members turned to me and asked—how does it feel to have a bunch of strangers talking about you and your book as if you’re not here? I was speechless. It took me a few seconds to finally nod and smile and say, "Oh, it's great, carry on." I was in author heaven.

8) Some book clubs start with wine, continue to more wine, and finish with wine. This can be loads of fun or extremely awkward, depending on your temperament. In the case of one woman becoming so intoxicated she insisted the author examine her teeth, it was probably crossing the line a wee bit. But hey, to each their own. Everyone has their own version of entertainment! It’s best to laugh and chalk it up to experience. (and help with character building for your next book)

9) The best book clubs are those where the members are willing to share their personal stories. Here I quote another author friend—“Sometimes it can almost turn into a group therapy session. But it's interesting to hear how your book connects to their experiences, sometimes in very unexpected ways. In a book club, you get a chance to go beyond "I get it" and really get to know your readers.” For me, this is the most rewarding thing about book clubs!

10) Always be prepared to do a presentation. One book club I visited had rented a room in a historic downtown club. I was familiar with the building and assumed they would be gathered in one of the small side rooms. Imagine my surprise when I saw a sign that said the book club meeting was in the BALLROOM. When I walked in and saw the linen-covered tables, a buffet, and crystal chandeliers, I was certain there had been a mistake. Clearly, the ballroom had been set up for a formal party or wedding reception. Even the chairs were covered with white linen. As it turned out, FIVE local book clubs had gotten together to rent the ballroom, all to meet little old me. Imagine that. I quickly realized they were expecting a presentation and said a silent thank you to the author Gods that I had my notes and props with me.  

11) No matter what happens, remember that book clubs are supposed to be FUN!!