So I've been reading The Hundred-Year-Old Man who Climbed out of a Window and Disappeared, the novel that ' everybody' has read and that is still in the top 10 of English novels at my local book shop (where, probably, about 10 people buy an English book a week, so it may not be a very accurate representation), and to tell you the truth, I didn't like it very much.
The writing style interesting, typically Scandinavian (even in translation this shines through), and it takes a while to get into. Jonasson likes to explain things that are very very obvious. He likes to give so many details that when asked you could actually tell which colour someones toe-nails were painted. He likes to make most of his characters either very stupid or very weird. All of this is amusing, funny even, when you start to read, but as you get to page 50 you start to think: is he still using this trick? I'm kinda done with it now!
Around page 150, I was seriously contemplating not reading any more. I hardly ever put down a book without completely finishing it, but this might have been one of those rare cases.
But then, somehow, he made me read on. It was not that the story gripped me (I won't spoil too much, but it is sort of a murder-mystery combined with Forrest Gump, only in this world, Forrest would be one of the normal guys compared to most of the characters), you can see where this story is going from about chapter 2. No, his writing style somehow got better, more natural, less in-your-face typical. The annoying little side-steps and superfluous 'of course' and minute detail somehow worked. It felt like Jonasson himself was struggling to get to this part of the novel, and now that he was half-way, and knew where it was going, he could somehow relax and write better.
Which is funny, because that is exactly what happens when I write a novel.
But leaving that aside, for me, every novel has sort of a 'read-on' moment, when you get totally immersed in the story and just cannot put it down. For some novels, this is the first line, such as "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much" or "Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and
happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of
existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very
little to distress or vex her" (if you don't know where these are from and do care, look them up). Sometimes it takes a while, such as with A Game of Thrones, the novel that a friend had been bugging me to read for months some time around 2004, and when I finally started, it took quite a while for me to like it (I've re-read it several times now, and it still takes a while). Several Neil Gaiman novels have the same effect. Other novels you can't really appreciate until you've finished them, and then you have to go back and re-read them. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was one of those for me, and The Remains of the Day too.
It makes me wonder whether everyone experiences these 'read-on' moments, and whether they're actually the same moments for everyone. And are they really the moments an author was fully confident that their story was going to work, or are they imposed upon the novel by the reader?
With my next new novel, not sure which one it's going to be, but I'll try to pick a good one, I'm going to try and keep track of this. I still have to finish reading about the 100-year-old first, although that does not seem like such a problem anymore now.
Saturday 30 March 2013
Wednesday 27 March 2013
Teacher training
First of all, I am clearly not dead. Dead to the world, maybe, as we moved more than 3 weeks ago and still do not have any connection to the Internet, which is the main reason for my looooong silence here, but certainly not dead. On the contrary, I have been very very busy.
The good news is that my dissertation has officially been finalised and discussed and graded, and that I will pass my MA degree cum laude, or with honours, or whatever the equivalent English term is. Which is very nice, but mostly to me personally, as in the job market today everything that counts is experience and good ideas, and not so much whether you passed with flying colours or just scraped by.
So apart from my officially-3-days-a-week-but-actually-5-days-a-week job at the publisher's, I'm also doing a teacher training internship. This is a sort of basic course that the university offers for everyone interested in education and possibly becoming a teacher one day. It consists of a 3-hour seminar and a one-day-per-week internship at a local (or not-so-local, if you're unlucky) secondary school. I was lucky, I got a school that is a 5 minute bike ride from my home.
It is, however, kind of a weird school. As our local supervisor told us: this used to be the school you went to if you couldn't make it at any of the others. It's a bit go-happy, with more emphasis on children being happy and expressing themselves (looooots of music and art going on) than getting high grades. Kind of hippiesque. Also, very badly organised, with some students muttering about room changes and lack of information and what not by saying: "Well, you know, it's the <name of school which I won't mention>". For example, we'd prepared two lessons for last week Monday, only to hear on Friday that there were no lessons for those classes on that day, because they had the day off. Something they'd just decided, somehow, and forgot to mention. Finally, few digital advances have made it into this school, so I'm just using a blackboard and a crayon, and digital whiteboards or whatever can be found in just a few of the rooms, which are usually booked. So all great fun.
Now I'm taking the course and doing the internship to see whether teaching is for me. Many people have told me over the years that I would be good at it, that it would totally suit me, and I've always told them no. Most of my family is in education, most of them complain a lot about it, and I didn't feel like it was my thing. But then another teacher told me: "You'll never know, unless you try!" Which is really true. I've never stood in front of a class and explained something to them, or told them to get to work, or whatever. Who was I to say that it was not for me?
Well, now I have stood in front of a class and explained something to them and told them to get to work. And I'm not sure what to think of it.
Let me start by saying that at this school, there is somewhat of a pact between teachers and pupils. Teachers don't get too angry or strict, and students don't let things get out of hand too much. Everybody accepts one another, but nobody really goes out of there way (the spirit in some of these classes amazes me: there are the big-mouths who know everything and make fun of everything you try to teach them, but when someone puts their hand up and tells you they got the answer wrong or don't understand something, the big mouths just shut up and let you help them. Never ever, when I was in secondary school, did you put your hand up and tell the teacher that you didn't understand. Not in front of the rest of the class).
Now I'm wondering whether the fact that they did as I told them (even though they clearly didn't want to) is in part because of they're used to not making things too crazy and being polite to others. At the end of the lesson our coach (their real teacher) asked them what they thought about the lesson, and they told me it was good, refreshing, interesting, useful. Not sure if they really meant this, or were just being polite.
So there is a bit of insecurity there. Also, I'm not sure what I think about it myself. I don't have this whole idealistic idea of 'spreading knowledge'. I like to explain stuff to people, but mostly to interested people who've asked me about it, not to 30 bored 15-year-olds who would rather be playing video games or shopping and are constantly doing stuff on their phones.
Which I totally understand: I was exactly the same in secondary school. Which is why I'm not usually the one correcting them ("David, please put your phone away" "Ladies in the back, please pay attention" "Guys, stop chatting please"). I'm the one thinking: I would be chatting too, and there are a couple who are paying attention, who do need my help, so why not just talk to them?
Not really the educational spirit one is looking for, I think.
After the first 3 classes, I rode home and thought: This is not for me, I'm going to quit. But the thing is, I'm not a quitter. Also, I still don't know whether this is or isn't for me. I have a funny feeling it isn't, but I can't say after just 3 classes (co-taught, there is another intern standing next to me who is doing half of the teaching, which is fun and handy but also slightly annoying, as her teaching style and personality are quite different from mine, and I feel like we're clashing sometimes). So I'm going to try at least another day (3 more lessons) and see what comes out of it.
My coach, by the way, was raving. "Clear explanations, you got them to work, excellent, great first time..." Maybe this is my own insecurity or hunt for perfection, but I didn't believe her. My fellow intern did, by the way, but she is 100% convinced that she's going to be a teacher and she's going to love it, so it's easier for her. Me, I'm still not sure.
The good news is that my dissertation has officially been finalised and discussed and graded, and that I will pass my MA degree cum laude, or with honours, or whatever the equivalent English term is. Which is very nice, but mostly to me personally, as in the job market today everything that counts is experience and good ideas, and not so much whether you passed with flying colours or just scraped by.
So apart from my officially-3-days-a-week-but-actually-5-days-a-week job at the publisher's, I'm also doing a teacher training internship. This is a sort of basic course that the university offers for everyone interested in education and possibly becoming a teacher one day. It consists of a 3-hour seminar and a one-day-per-week internship at a local (or not-so-local, if you're unlucky) secondary school. I was lucky, I got a school that is a 5 minute bike ride from my home.
It is, however, kind of a weird school. As our local supervisor told us: this used to be the school you went to if you couldn't make it at any of the others. It's a bit go-happy, with more emphasis on children being happy and expressing themselves (looooots of music and art going on) than getting high grades. Kind of hippiesque. Also, very badly organised, with some students muttering about room changes and lack of information and what not by saying: "Well, you know, it's the <name of school which I won't mention>". For example, we'd prepared two lessons for last week Monday, only to hear on Friday that there were no lessons for those classes on that day, because they had the day off. Something they'd just decided, somehow, and forgot to mention. Finally, few digital advances have made it into this school, so I'm just using a blackboard and a crayon, and digital whiteboards or whatever can be found in just a few of the rooms, which are usually booked. So all great fun.
Now I'm taking the course and doing the internship to see whether teaching is for me. Many people have told me over the years that I would be good at it, that it would totally suit me, and I've always told them no. Most of my family is in education, most of them complain a lot about it, and I didn't feel like it was my thing. But then another teacher told me: "You'll never know, unless you try!" Which is really true. I've never stood in front of a class and explained something to them, or told them to get to work, or whatever. Who was I to say that it was not for me?
Well, now I have stood in front of a class and explained something to them and told them to get to work. And I'm not sure what to think of it.
Let me start by saying that at this school, there is somewhat of a pact between teachers and pupils. Teachers don't get too angry or strict, and students don't let things get out of hand too much. Everybody accepts one another, but nobody really goes out of there way (the spirit in some of these classes amazes me: there are the big-mouths who know everything and make fun of everything you try to teach them, but when someone puts their hand up and tells you they got the answer wrong or don't understand something, the big mouths just shut up and let you help them. Never ever, when I was in secondary school, did you put your hand up and tell the teacher that you didn't understand. Not in front of the rest of the class).
Now I'm wondering whether the fact that they did as I told them (even though they clearly didn't want to) is in part because of they're used to not making things too crazy and being polite to others. At the end of the lesson our coach (their real teacher) asked them what they thought about the lesson, and they told me it was good, refreshing, interesting, useful. Not sure if they really meant this, or were just being polite.
So there is a bit of insecurity there. Also, I'm not sure what I think about it myself. I don't have this whole idealistic idea of 'spreading knowledge'. I like to explain stuff to people, but mostly to interested people who've asked me about it, not to 30 bored 15-year-olds who would rather be playing video games or shopping and are constantly doing stuff on their phones.
Which I totally understand: I was exactly the same in secondary school. Which is why I'm not usually the one correcting them ("David, please put your phone away" "Ladies in the back, please pay attention" "Guys, stop chatting please"). I'm the one thinking: I would be chatting too, and there are a couple who are paying attention, who do need my help, so why not just talk to them?
Not really the educational spirit one is looking for, I think.
After the first 3 classes, I rode home and thought: This is not for me, I'm going to quit. But the thing is, I'm not a quitter. Also, I still don't know whether this is or isn't for me. I have a funny feeling it isn't, but I can't say after just 3 classes (co-taught, there is another intern standing next to me who is doing half of the teaching, which is fun and handy but also slightly annoying, as her teaching style and personality are quite different from mine, and I feel like we're clashing sometimes). So I'm going to try at least another day (3 more lessons) and see what comes out of it.
My coach, by the way, was raving. "Clear explanations, you got them to work, excellent, great first time..." Maybe this is my own insecurity or hunt for perfection, but I didn't believe her. My fellow intern did, by the way, but she is 100% convinced that she's going to be a teacher and she's going to love it, so it's easier for her. Me, I'm still not sure.
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