Book Review--Meely LaBauve

In Ken Wells' first novel we are introduced to Emile Labauve, a young boy living in the Cajun-country of lower Louisiana during the 1960's. Known as "Meely" by his family and classmates, this young rascal spends most of his time in a swap that makes up the back yard of a rickety, makeshift shack that he calls home. While Meely's father is off gator hunting and running from the law, readers follow Meely winding their way through his hunting and fishing expeditions in the Catahoula Bayou and the many misadventures he has with his friends and classmates.
Though events in this book are entertaining in their own right, what makes the story an absolute riot is the author's use of humor. Present from page one up until the novel's finale humor is used in both serious and less serious aspects of the novel. By writing the book from the first person point of view Wells highlights the innocence and comical imagination in the mind of young Meely, while at the same time confronting tougher issues like bullying and race relations.

I recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of "The Catcher in the Rye". The humor is there, all of the meaning is there, and the narrative following a young boy's life is there---but with an excellent back-country spin. Which is why I would also strongly recommend this book to Mark Twain fans, especially those who are partial to "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer". In addition, this book is a quick read. If you're looking for a quality, entertaining book but you're worried about the time commitment, this is a good pick.

Halfway To Home

The orange dusk sun settles
Snug against dark treeline,
Tainting treetops pale pink.

Our truck's shadow moving
Along trunks and branches,
Fades as the fire-sphere sinks.

Ahead, purple sky spans
Above cold, dark ditches,
And a snow-dusted road

Leading to familiar
people, know-by-heart towns,
and a comfortable abode.

We're nearly halfway home.


This is what I consider to be one of my first formal poems. It's something I scribbled down on paper while riding in Calvin's truck on our way home a few weeks ago. I looked outside the window and noticed that the evening sun had turned a deep orange and was beginning to set. This changed the color of the woods along the road we were driving on, creating a very lovely sight. I sat wishing I had a camera with so that I could capture it, and then it dawned on me that I could write it down on paper. So here it is for you to enjoy.

Weiner Dogs

I have two new little buddies to hangout with now, Charlie and Ted. They're named after two of my favorite poets, something that I am accustomed to do when naming my pets. Thusfar, there is Gatsby, named after Jay Gatsby in Fitzgerald's book, and Lliam, named after William Faulkner. And now we have Charlie named after Charles Bukowski, and Ted for Theodore Roethke. Here are some pictures of the little guys.

Ted

Charlie

I'll end by posting one poem from each of the poets that they're named after.

MY PAPA'S WALTZ

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
      Still clinging to your shirt.

A Future Congressman
Charles Bukowski

in the men's room at the
track
this boy of about
7 or 8 years old
came out of a stall
and the man
waiting for him
(probably his father)
asked,
"what did you do with the racing program?
I gave it to you
to keep."
"no," said the boy,
"I ain't seen it!  I don't
have it!"

they walked off and
I went into the stall
because it was the only one
available
and there
in the toilet
was the 
program.

I tried to flush
the program
away
but it just swam
sluggishly about
and remained.

I got out of
there and found
another
empty stall.

that boy was ready
for his life to come,
he would undoubtedly 
be highly successful,
the lying little
prick.

Freeze-Frame

A Glimpse of the Eternal
By Ted Kooser

Just now,
a sparrow lighted
on a pine bough
right outside my window
and a puff
of yellow pollen
flew away.


What's amazing about this poem is that it accurately depicts a single, intense moment in just twenty one words. It's something that would obviously go unnoticed by the unobservant, making it's main point the emphasis on the importance of "seeing" rather than "looking". In just one sentence the author manages to vividly "freeze-frame" a simple, beautiful moment amidst the blur of ordinary occurrences.

I like to use it as a way to remind myself that there is something to appreciate anywhere at any given moment.
Maybe we could all use this piece as a reminder to take a moment to stop and see the world around us.

Limerick, Anyone?

I came across this article in the Newspaper a year or so ago, and it still remains one of my favorite articles for obvious reasons.
Enjoy.

Legalese Gets Too Long

TACOMA, Wash.- A
federal judge in Tacoma has
told a lawyer he needs to
make it snappy.
Judge Ronald Leighton
balked at a 465-page lawsuit
that made its way onto his
desk. He invoked a rarely
used rule that requires a
"short and plain statement"
of allegations.
The title of the
racketeering lawsuit filed
by attorney Dean
Browning Webb was eight
pages long.
The judge issued his order
in a limerick:
"Plaintiff has a great deal
to say,
But it seems he skipped
Rule 8(a).
His Complaint is too long,
Which renders it wrong,
Please rewrite and refile
today."

A New Way Of Looking At Poetry

Todd Boss is a new and successful poet from Wisconsin whose work I enjoy immensely. What I find most appealing about his writing is the everyday subjects that he uses in his poems. From trips to the super market to the simple observations of his children, his poems contain subjects that everyone can relate to. Even "Yellowrocket", the title of his new book of poetry, derives from a poem within the book about his family's old farm where he describes yellowrocket, a common weed that grows there. It's the perfect title for a book filled with everyday sort of poems. I encourage all of you to check out his book. He's very much like a present day Robert Frost, in my opinion.


I can continue to spend a whole entry discussing why I enjoy his poetry so much (which I could do without effort, I assure you), but that is not the point of this specific entry. Instead, I would like to bring to your attention a project that Todd and a few others have been working on for some time that has recently called upon some attention in the media. I've had the opportunity of sitting in on one of Todd's poetry readings on campus, and afterward he shared a few snippets of this project with the audience.

The project was designed to allow poetry to become more accessible to a wider audience via the internet. The original goal was to find a way to help solve the problem of individuals having to go out to buy a whole book or volume of poems to enjoy a poet's work. Todd and fellow designers of the project wanted to present the poems in a way that would be entertaining and enjoyable, rather than the usual "googleing" of a specific work that leads you to another website where you can read the poem word for word off of your computer screen. That's when they developed the idea to create a way for readers to listen to the poem, in addition to watching a complimentary visual. This was the basis of what is now known as "Motionpoems", short videos that include a visual set to a recorded reading of a specific poem by its author.

There was a release of twelve of these new Motionpoems in Minneapolis tonight, in hopes that Todd and other contributors would get some input from the general public on how to further improve the project.


Here is a link to an interview with Todd on
MPR

And one to his page on
Youtube
with some examples of Motionpoems.

If you're interested in his book, "Yellowrocket" or the author himself, I will provide a link to his homepage where you can also find his Motionpoems, reviews of his book, and information on the author.

The last six lines in particular.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"The Cross of Snow"

In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face--the face of one long dead--
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died, and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.

On a lighter note, I spent 8 hours washing dogs at my new job, and I loved every minute of it. I think it's one of the best jobs I've had so far.

When I'm not at work or school I find that I've been spending a lot of my spare time digging up plans to make snowshoes and moccasins for this winter. As for long term construction plans, I hope to make something like this to live in...

Well, I can dream, can't I?