Louis Sachar's Holes: Book Review

Louis Sachar's Holes: A Review

by Armando Ortiz

  I have yet to see the film that was made based on the book I will be talking about, but hopefully in the near future this will change. After talking to some people about some books to read with my student I followed my friend’s suggestion and picked up a copy of Louis Sachar’s, Holes. When my student began to read it she mentioned that she’d already seen the film. I didn’t give it much thought and told the kid that because of that it would be easier for her to follow the story. The book starts out with Stanley Yelnats riding the bus to Camp Green Lake. He’s been accused of a crime and despite the injustice committed against him he blames it on his good-for-nothing-great-great-grandfather. The story describes Stanley as being a chubby kid, with very few to no friends, and introverted. He comes from a poor family but they also have a knack for inventing. The beginning of the book paints a character that seems to have been defeated by life at an early age, yet as the story develops the plot becomes more interesting and paints a different picture of Stanley.

Stanley, despite being at camp with real criminals, tries to cope with camp life by writing letters to his mother, and going along with what some of the guys in the group he’s been assigned suggest he do. Digging holes, an assignment that’s intended to build individual character, is a daily occurrence, and once a five by five hole is dug the youths can go back to the wrecked room and relax. Life is pretty monotonous and uneventful. Yet, despite the daily routine, another character, Zero, becomes interested in Stanley’s ability to communicate. One day while writing a letter to his mom, Stanley notices that Zero is looking at him intently, at first he thinks Zero is just reading the letter, but in fact Zero has no clue what is being written because he can’t read.  This is the beginning of a friendship that leads to Stanley helping Zero survive in the desert for several days.

What at first seemed to be a kid that was unable to make friendship turns out to be a kid that holds his ground, is calm under pressure, and has the patience to teach English to a camp mate. Another aspect of the story is the self-image that Stanley has of himself. He is a chubby kid with a taste for reading books yet at school he was picked on and singled out for his image. As a result he didn’t like himself, but at camp he discovers that he is pretty strong, and that he is able to make meaningful relationships. One finds a kid that is observant with a willingness to help out.

One aspect of the book that I liked was how Stanley came to discover his qualities after taking time to help a friend. He blamed his destiny on his ancestor’s past mistakes, but soon comes to discover that helping others isn’t that bad, and that one actually develops a sense of satisfaction. This and the sense of putting oneself out there seem to be the message of the author. Despite what others see and think that we are, if we follow our own path, and give of ourselves to positive activities we might discover talents and abilities that we never knew were always there. Not only that, Stanley comes to like himself, but this self-confidence does not emerge from the praise of others, instead it comes from the fact that after reflecting a bit he sees the positive things he’s done, even though this self-reflecting is done out in the desert while being an “escapee” from camp.

The story has several characters that add to the storyline and the author’s ability to shuttle the reader from Camp Green Lake to the local setting’s past, and then transport the reader to Latvia keeps the reader engrossed in the book and in the evolution of Stanley as a person. One aspect of the story that really stands out is Sachar’s description of the local landscape. It’s as if I was traveling through some vast desert like savannas that I got to visit while driving around West and Central Texas. Overall this was a good read for me and for my student. Though it's required reading in middle school the book is good for anyone of any age, and its message is universal.

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Four): Third Grade

Part 4: Third Grade- Miss Salaimo

By Armando Ortiz

Sometimes people are endowed by the gods, and their assets become more valuable, but all this happens by chance. I came to realize that I was sinning while staring at my teacher’s birthmark. It was strange to look at that mole. I’d confused that dark spot on her skin for a black bean. The moment it had come to focus I immediately felt connected with her. I thought that Ms. Salaimo also ate beans, but then something strange happened. I kept looking, without realizing that the small dark spot was no longer in my visual radar, her cleavage deepened as I lowered my view, and for some reason there was this strange feeling in me. I was looking or at least hoping to catch a full glimpse of the teacher’s breasts.

I was in third grade and all I cared about was playing tether-ball during recess and picking up the games at lunch time. Everything else was just a pastime of amusements and forced work. But today for some reason it seemed different. I kept looking, and wanted to see more, but what else was there to see beyond cleavage, that’s what I kept wondering, but nevertheless it left a deep impression on me and ever since then I stared, though I am sure that she caught on, because there came a point that she scolded me for no apparent reason.

She was a nice teacher and I recall winning several guessing games during the spring of that year. She was one of the first teachers to like my writing, so much so that she entered it in the writing contest that the school had. I recall staying after school and making the book with her. She taught me how to make the binding and put the pages together. In the end the book that I had made looked strange, because it was bigger than the rest, which for some reason I didn’t like. It seemed as if she had tried to make it stand out amongst the other books. I think she really liked her class and simply tried to make us stand out amongst the other third graders. In the end though someone else won the prize, but I won't forget that she helped me make my very first book from scratch, which till today is a memorable experience, and of course for the other memories that would go on to shape me as a man.

Snakes: Sketches of Los Angeles

Snakes 

by Armando Ortiz

He picked up the Diamondback using two sticks, and kept it at arm's distance while observing its body. The snake was brown gray with delicate yellow striped scales that crisscrossed the top of its long body, making four pointed diamonds. Upon being released it slither back into the dry bushes. Later in the evening the snake that he had picked up in the woods showed up at his home. It had mysteriously separated itself into three pieces and somehow gotten inside his room. Every part of the reptile’s body that had been touched by the branches had detached from the other parts and lay on the hardwood floor. The head, with its eye slits that opened and closed had a tongue that kept sticking out and slightly jittered. The body, which was the biggest and longest piece, had an eerie resemblance to beaded jewelry as if it were a Native American belt from the Northwest. Its tail was cut off a few inches away from the rattler and when the acoustic vibration woke him up he recognized 6 layers of hollow cartilage. For a moment Paul thought it was strange to see a rattlesnake on the floor of his room, but he remained calm. The head was near the bookshelf where most of his books were neatly placed. The body was beside the coffee table, while the rattler was laying by the entrance door directly below the poster of Jimi Hendrix.

He was trying to sleep in his own dreams, but was unable to rest. He kept wondering where the loose snake parts were, especially the triangular head.

“A rattlesnake’s head will bite even after being chopped off from its body,” his grandfather once said.

The day’s long hike had really sapped his energy and a dead snake was not going to move him from his spot. He slept on a brown leather couch that had been salvaged from the street a few months back. Prior to having a couch he’d slept on the mahogany floor. Having a bed inside a small studio took up too much space. It was located on the same wall as the entrance, but on the other corner of the room. From where he was he saw how all the pieces and himself made an imaginary trapezoid.  The fact that there were snake parts scattered inside the bachelor pad was a bit worrisome. Every now and then he’d raise his head and see if there was danger nearby. He had the same sensation that he got when he went to visit his mom, who lived near downtown Los Angeles in one of the more interesting neighborhoods of the city, Pico-Union.

The parts were now in different parts of the room. The head had wandered near the entrance of the kitchenette, and the body was right next to the book shelf directly in front the first row of books, while the tail was directly below the key holder that was next to the entrance and announced "Aqui estan las putas llaves." Every individual piece had a mind of its own as if each part were slowly transforming into a snake.

Paul kept trying to fall asleep attempting to ignore the visitors. All of them were inside the room, alone, with four walls and a ceiling that enclosed everything. The room had good insulation and kept things tidy during the winter. The pieces were scattered, and kept wandering. For a moment it seemed as if Jimi’s eyes were blinking. At first he hadn’t thought much about the snake being in his house because generally snakes are harmless to humans. This was different though, it was inside his room. The snake had become an intruder, an unwelcome interloper. The detached parts seemed to mind their own business like they would out in the wilderness. Nevertheless, fear kept shaking him awake. The head opened its mouth and quickly closed it shut. Fright steadily spread through Paul’s body like an oil spill that just keeps moving and sticking to everything. Western Diamondbacks carry lethal venom. Tired, he turned around to see where the snake parts were, and once he spotted them tried going back to his erratic sleep but the malignant slick kept him awake. The walls seemed to be moving closer from all directions, including the ceiling. There were crawling noises that resembled a vinyl record being played. There was a faint popping and rasp as when the music on a record player is about to start with air pressure vibrations going through the needle converting them into sound. Something was slithering out of the speakers of reality before the actual music had commenced.

Paul kept thinking about the length of each fang. He imagined the fangs being three inches long and that somehow they'd pierce his neck. A sensation of being pierced spread through his body and made him shiver. He finally sat up to see where the snake pieces were. As his upper body lifted itself from the warm cushions his eyes saw the detached head of the diamondback swallow its own tail, which then proceeded to swallow its body. It was the craziest scene that he'd ever dreamed.

The scene startled him awake. The shirt he wore was wet on his back and his face was pale. He really believed there was a snake around where he lay. Convincing himself that nothing was meant by the strange dream, except that it's best not to have poisonous snakes as pets, he quickly sat up.

“If one comes across a dead snake while hiking, dispose of it as soon as possible” he remembered his grandfather telling him once.

"It's best to let snakes deal with snakes," he mumbled to himself.

He put it in the bin that was in the kitchenette, pulled the bag out making a knot, and headed to the backdoor. Turning the brass door knob he felt the cold from the outside. Opening the door brought in a nice cool breeze. Breathing the early morning air gave a soothing sensation to the lungs. He stepped outside, and carrying the bag, he walked to the dumpster that was around the duplex in the alley. His feet felt the cool cement, it was nice to walk on it at this time. The morning was fresh and the stars were still out. It was barely 4a.m. and there was hardly any sound in the streets. There were no bird sounds. They were all snuggled up in their tiny nest and dreaming good dreams. There would be no more snakes in his home or in his dreams ever again.

Dorothee de Monfried's Dark Night: Book Review

Dorothee de Monfried's Dark Night

by Armando Ortiz

Dorothee de Monfreid is a French author and illustrator of children’s books. I discovered her work after a student, whom I currently work with, brought it home from the library to read to me. He was pretty excited about reading it, and before opening the book he mentioned that some animals in the story were afraid of a monster, so I was intrigued. My student had already read the book, and now he just wanted to read it to me. The book he’d gotten from the library was, The Dark Night, and as soon as I read the title I thought about batman, but of course there was no batman in the story. There was only a kid named Felix who was on his way home, but gets lost in the woods as night falls. The plot quickly turns and the kid is helped by a smart rabbit that goes out of its way to get Felix back home.

In a quick turn of fortune, while Felix was inside a hollow tree, hiding from the Wolf, Tiger and Crocodile he finds a door. The animals appear one at a time and sit on a stump receiving the warmth of a bonfire, but are scared off by sounds of the other approaching animal.  While hiding inside the tree he finds a door that leads down some stairs. This is where the story turns and becomes entertaining. Though it’s not an Alice in Wonderland type of plot with many twists and turns it does have vague similarities, like a small door that leads somewhere, though not to a separate land, but to a small room. Once inside the small room, and finding no one there, Felix helps himself to the cup of hot cocoa that’s on the table. A rabbit then appears on the scene but doesn’t run away or is not in a hurry to get to some place, instead it quickly asks Felix about his problem and proceeds to help him.

I found the book fresh and fun, because though it deals with fears, these fears are quickly dissipated by the two characters working together. The rabbit sits on Felix’s shoulders and both cover themselves with a black tunic, which the rabbit wears a scary mask. It puts fierce wild animals in a vulnerable position where it becomes possible for strange creatures, wild animals and monsters to be afraid of other monsters. There really isn’t a message that the author intends to send, at least that is my opinion, but instead it tries to convey a type of light hearted take on challenges that people confront. Sometimes challenges aren’t as daunting when confronted, and in fact it might turn out that all one needed to do was ask for help or simply take it one step at a time.

Unlike some children’s books that introduce kids to dinosaurs or have giant animals doing funny things, this one seems to have had a great effect on me. It might have been due to the author’s illustrations, which were simple, with bright colors, yet the characters are funny, naïve, and quite vulnerable despite their fearsome characteristics. Overall the author/artist Monfreid gives me the impression that she has the ability to entertain readers of all ages and backgrounds. Hopefully she keeps publishing more stories and one day publishes something for us adults.