A Mercy by Toni Morrison

I was so excited about Morrison's newest novel, especially because it was presumed to be a prequel to Beloved. Unfortunately, it wasn't a prequel in the sense I was expecting. More about that later. First, I should explain my love of Beloved. Maybe it is the fact that my students usually abhor the book, which in turn, propels it higher into that literary cannon that I feel any self-respecting AP English teacher should delve into. Maybe I like Beloved because I finally understand it. I mean I have only read it four times, three of which I have also taught it. My first experience is one I can't remember--and now I think I know why. It was extremely difficult reading and I, much like my students now, struggled with it in order to prepare for my computer exam portion of National Board Certification. My appreciation of it has only grown as I, too, have grown as a critical reader and its dense language now makes perfect sense. The element of "WTH?" is gone. I enjoy teaching Beloved because it is so full of literary meat that to adequately prepare my students for the AP exam, I feel they must test their abilities with its language, its motifs, its characterizations. And none of that mentions the fact that it has been on the AP exam five times in the past seven years AND won a Nobel Prize. So there. It is worth the trouble.


Now, for a mercy. MMM. Well, I don't know where to begin. It is as challenging as I assume Beloved was the first time. The book is based on various female voices during the 1680's. Rebekka is, for all respects and purposes, a slave owner's wife before slavery officially exists. Florens is a girl whose mother trades her to pay the debt owed by her mother's master, which is how Rebekka gains another servant. Sorrow and Lina are also at Rebekka's home. (I honestly can't remember when Sorrow comes-before or after Florens. Lina is with Rebekka first.) Sorrow is exceedingly strange since most of her life she was raised on a ship and raised as a boy, from what I could gather. Lina, oddly enough, is actually friends with Rebekka. Rebekka endured religious persecution in England and chose marriage to a stranger overseas over the possible future of rigid intolerance. In the beginning, Rebekka and her husband are good people who resist the new idea of owning human life. They approach the work on the farm together with Lina and eventually Sorrow and Florens.


Okay, so that is the premise of the book. I struggled through half of it before I sorted through the voices. I was hearing voices, in more ways than one; however, I was not absorbing which stories went with which character. So that made the reading difficult naturally. Once I pushed through my own confusion, I finally understood the metaphor behind the title. Mercy is shown in the strangest of ways, ways that oftentimes don't make sense to those most impacted. The reader understands that fact once Florens's mother is heard from again ... at the very end.


This book lacked the drama that makes Beloved such a page-turner. It also lacked the character development that evidently I need to really "get into" a book. I am glad I read it. Now I really want to tackle other of Morrison's books, like The Bluest Eye and Sula. I often have students who choose to read those along with our class's study of Beloved. These students usually like the previous two books better than Beloved. So, ultimately, I need to see if I can pass the Morrison "test" or if I just like Beloved because I have spent so much time with it.

Now I am on to more light reading. Jen Lancaster's blog has completely sold me on her wit and voice. I have Bitter Is the New Black on my nightstand...

Teaching The Kite Runner

I just finished my second reading of The Kite Runner. I guess one of the pitfalls of teaching high school English is the constant debate about whether to reread, each year, whatever novel you are teaching. Since I have an incredibly poor memory and struggle to recall details that help support theme development, I usually reread everything--I mean EVERYTHING. Revisiting this book, however, was not a chore. I just love it! I love that I still cry at parts and still feel overwhelming joy at others. I guess what makes this book even more intriquing is the fact that these places, such as Kabul and Peshawar are still in the news today. This quality makes the book incredibly believable and heartwrenching. Fortunatley, the AP gurus of the world deemed this book worthy enough to be placed on the lit exam. Because of that, I have decided to teach it.

Now last year when I did NOT teach it, I had seven students voluntarily read it because I wouldn't shut up about it. They all loved it, even the non-reader in class! He even wrote about it on the exam, despite the fact that we had not studied it closely.

this year, teaching this book has brought a reluctant class into the literary world and, get this, they are enjoying it. Again, this year, my non-reader is reading and volunteering to answer questions in class. This year our Socratic discussions are energized and thoughtful. This year, with this book, I have shown students that reading can teach you practical lessons as well as change your heart. Most of the class struggle with the realization that when this book ends, 9/11 has just taken place. They remember that, and now they understand the background of some of these nations that they so often heard about in the news. The children now suffer like Amir and Hassan and they laugh and play like Amir and Hassan. The adults aren't all extremists; they now seem more like Baba and Rahim Khan and the beloved Ali. What was once a distant place with unknonwn customs has now become a world with real people -- people who have the same emotions, actions, and reactions.

This book has taught my class that redemption is necessary and possible; that one can do the impossible and unthinkable; that life does go on despite incredible challenges.

I truly believe I could teach only this book and my students would learn just as much as they would from reading 1,000 others! If you haven't read it, you should. Period.

The Middle Place

So for my first entry on this blog, let me just say that I picked an awesome book. While it is a memoir of Kelly Corrigan and her life during her battle with breast cancer, it is also about her relationship with her father, the Green Man or Greenie, and her mother. The focus does stay on Greenie; however, what I find most fascinating is the mother / daughter relationship. She talks through what I will describe as her inner voice. You know the voice where your mouth is saying one thing and you are being all innocent, but your mind is screaming all of the crazy absurdities of your brain. Yes, I am picking a fight with my mother. I know this will drive her crazy. That kind of dialogue. I found some of my own immaturities and drama in Kelly's mind.

Now, her relationship with Greenie was one I could relate to in so many ways. Greenie was not really all that much like my dad but her love and devotion to being his Daddy's girl struck a cord with me. Kelly is suffering through her own cancer and feelings of guilt for not being able to be with and take care of her dad while he suffers through a second round of cancer. This time it is in his bladder. The title signifies that she is stuck in the middle--that of being her daughters' mother and Greenie's child. She is a Corrigan, a name whose reputation reaches far beyond the walls of their house. She feels prestige and recognition with her family name and even though Greenie prompts her to take her husband's name, she can't bring herself to break that bond with her own family.

Kelly runs the gamut of personas. She is the stoic cancer survivor; the immature adult child; a mommy; a devoted wife; an inconsiderate bitch of a wife...

I enjoyed all of the parts of this book. It was witty, enlightening, endearing, and breathtaking.