Paperboy

A tornado warning in my county has given me a much-needed free morning and an opportunity to write about Paperboy, my final 2014 Newbery. The book was actually due at the library yesterday, so my blog-writing procrastination may actually cost me 10¢, a fee I refused to pay even for The Story of Mankind (see previous post), but I would say Paperboy is worth it.

This semi-autobiographical novel is told in the first-person perspective of an 11-year-old boy who stutters. His name is Victor, but that fact is not revealed until late in the book because he himself struggles to pronounce it. His best friend, Rat (actually Art, but that's harder to pronounce with his stutter), leaves for a month over the summer and Victor takes care of Rat's paper route while he's gone. I thought Victor was an endearing and eloquent protagonist. His struggle to speak makes him the kind of underdog that I live and love to champion, but is also reminiscent of others (Moses, Demosthenes, Enoch) who changed that specific weakness into a strength. His mother's inability to connect and lack of involvement frustrated me, but Mam's and Mr. Spiro's care for and interest in Victor inspired me.

Mr. Spiro is a former merchant marine and book-lover who lives on Victor's paper route. Victor looks forward to collecting from him each week because he treats him as an equal. Apart from Victor's housekeeper Mam, Mr. Spiro is the only adult with whom Victor is able to carry on conversations (including his parents). During one of his Friday afternoon collections for the paper, he goes inside Mr. Spiro's home and gets to see his collection of thousands of books for the first time. Inspired, Victor reveals that he wrote a poem, but immediately realizes he won't be able to recite it to Mr. Spiro because of his stutter. Mr. Spiro suggests they say it together (a strategy that is apparently very helpful for those who stutter), so Victor types it up and they recite it. 

 I wish I had a book

That did not have an end. 

I go to pick it up 

And it is new again. 

The words feel real 

And mine to share. 

They have no sound.

 They have no air. 

My voice is clear 

And lets me speak. 

My fear is gone. 

I'm never weak. 

My words all come 

And right on time. 

The words are true.

The words are mine.

The poem didn't sound like my words even though I had just typed them. Each word floated out of my mouth and joined up with Mr. Spiro's to make one. I didn't stutter once or have to worry about Gentle Air or sneaking up on sounds or fainting. My legs were itching. I looked down to see sweat trickling over my kneecaps and down my legs. For the first time I had said words out loud that I had written on paper.

Mr. Spiro was smiling with his big arms folded across his chest. He looked at me for a while without saying anything and then stood. "My bias against poetry has been properly challenged. A wonderful poem. I'm grateful to you for sharing, my Stuttering Poet."

If someone had called me a Stuttering Boy or a Stuttering Sixth Grader or a Stuttering Pitcher I would have probably tried to pick up something and bust them. But Stuttering in front of Poet seemed to make stuttering a good thing for the first time in my life.

The Story Of MANKIND

The Story of Mankind has always had an impressive power over me. My history with the book extends over two decades, but it has exerted its particular influence in such a way so as to prevent me from reading it in its entirety until now. I first checked it out at around age ten and have repeated that process literally dozens of times since. Every library has it because it received the medal in 1922, the first year the Newbery medal was ever awarded. And so, unlike all the other Newberys I have yet to read, accessibility has never been the problem. No, the actual issue that I have always faced with The Story of Mankind is more complex. I will reveal its power, but you must know that I am being completely and unadulteratedly honest with you on the subject. Once I discovered it, I tested it repeatedly and discovered the same result without fail (like, not even one time). Are you ready? I cannot read more than ten pages of The Story of Mankind without falling asleep.

Now, if you will allow me to do some math, I will illustrate why this book's particular power has been so debilitating for so long. The book contains 562 pages and since the average number of pages I reach before falling asleep is actually much lower than 10 (but never more than 10), reading the entire book would amount to roughly 80 naps. Now factor in that each of those naps could be anywhere between 30 minutes and 3 hours (let's say the average is 2 hours) and I would sleep roughly 160 hours before reaching the final page. If it takes me 1.5 minutes to read a page of text, the reading portion of this calculation would amount to around 14 hours. This means that if I checked out the book from an average public library and renewed it the maximum number of times (twice), I would have six weeks to complete my 174 hour task (I take overdue fines very seriously). With 168 hours in a week minus 56 hours for sleep (the book naps were never part of my night sleeping), 14 hours for meals, 50 hours for work (or 70 if I'm teaching public school), 12 hours for church and church activities, and 7 hours for "getting ready" time, I would have approximately 29 hours left in the week to dedicate to other pursuits. If I had spent all of my free time for six straight weeks, I could have reached the last page on the day my last renewal expired. As a pre-teen and teen, my attention span was never long enough for this type of endeavor (I usually pooped out before reaching page 50), and as an adult I preferred using those 29 free hours for social interaction (though I did still check it out and attempt it on numerous occasions). Is it any wonder I've tried and failed to read this book for the last 20 years?

I had to try something new. This past summer, I decided it was time. I hadn't spent an entire summer reading a book since I took a used copy of Les Miserables to the Philippines 11 years ago. I worked out a system where I brought the book back to the library every 6 weeks and asked the librarians to check it in and check it back out to me ("As long as there isn't a hold on the book." "Nobody has ever placed a hold on this book, I assure you."). I did this twice (18 weeks). I took dozens and dozens of naps. I fought indifference and boredom. I learned a few things about Napoleon. I laughed twice. I cried never. I solidified my belief that European monarchy history is painfully uninteresting. The word "revolution" transformed me. And, finally, I read the last page.