If it had not caught the attention of a handful of important readers, Jesmyn Ward’s “Salvage the Bones” would most likely have quietly faded into obscurity; many worthy books do. Now, however, this novel about a poor Mississippi family in the weeks leading up to 2005’s Hurricane Katrina has a prominent place in bookstores and boasts the gold medallion that comes with winning the 2011 National Book Award.
Book awards are marvelously idiosyncratic. While major film and music awards are based on the votes of a large group — meaning there is a general consensus or popularity — book awards are frequently selected by just a few people. In the case of the National Book Awards, five judges read 315 fiction submissions in a small window of time and choose their favorite. The result, this year, was that an under-the-radar second novel rose to the top of the pack.
“Salvage the Bones” is an intense book, with powerful, direct prose that dips into poetic metaphor. It’s told by a teenage girl, Esch, whose late-summer thoughts turn to Greek myths and her neglectful lover, Manny. “I imagine this is the way Medea felt about Jason when she fell in love,” she thinks. “That she looked at him and felt a fire eating up through her rib cage, turning her blood to boil, evaporating hotly out of every inch of her skin. I feel it so strongly that I cannot imagine how Manny does not feel it, too.”
Although Esch has been sexually active since the age of 12, Manny, a friend of her brother’s, is the first man she’s fallen for. Her desire for a relationship with him is more aspirational than realistic — their couplings are heated but passionless, and he lives with a girlfriend — but hopes, however tenuous, are the lifeline for Esch and her brothers.
The siblings have largely raised themselves since their mother died after giving birth to Junior, the youngest. After her death, their father took up a diminishing cycle of odd jobs, alcohol and anger. They live on several rural acres that belonged to their mother’s family, which once profited by using part of it as an ad-hoc dump. Broken appliances and partly working vehicles dot the yard between their house and the decaying home where their grandparents lived; chickens wander, no longer confined to an abandoned chicken coop.
Randall, the eldest, practices basketball with hopes that it might bring him to the attention of a scout and college. Esch longs for Manny. Skeetah, a year younger than Esch, thinks he’ll be able to sell the puppies from his cherished fighting dog, China.
This would probably be the right place to mention that if you have a problem with dogfights, this might not be the book for you. Or girls having casual sex with their older brothers’ friends at age 12, for that matter. Yet the story is told with such immediacy and openness that it may keep judgments at bay. We are immersed in Esch’s world, a world in which birth and death nestle close, where there is little safety except that which the siblings create for each other.
Ward, 34, accepted the National Book Award saying that she wanted to write about poor, black rural Southerners in such a way that the greater culture would see their stories as universal.
2011年12月29日星期四
2011年10月19日星期三
The growing popularity of personal poultry
Georgia Dempsey literally saved her pennies to buy chickens. At five years old, the Wadmalaw Island girl became enamored with her neighbor's flock. She painted pictures for them, held them in her arms, and dreamed of one day having her own.
Today, at age 7, Georgia happily introduces her hens by name — there's Ms. Frizzle, an especially fluffy Silkie, and her personal favorite, Brownie. Three roosters keep the seven hens company: Spike, Peewee, and Rudy (the bully of the bunch, claims Georgia). She shows off her chicken tractor, a mobile coop that lets chickens move to a fresh patch of grass each day. "They love greens, but they hate onions," explains the little girl, before scooping up Brownie into her arms and posing for a picture.
Georgia's chickens demonstrate both the ease and the work required to own chickens. The Dempseys ordered their chicks online and had food, water, and their coop ready to go when the post office called to say their squeaking little box had arrived. A year later, the family enjoys fresh, home-raised eggs on a daily basis (although the hens' output decreases as the days grow shorter), and Georgia has gained valuable lessons in responsibility at an early age.
Just down the street, Benjamin Tyrone Gadsdon keeps an even larger flock in a series of coops behind his home off of Bears Bluff Road. A mortician by trade, Gadsdon goes by "The Undertaker." He might also be called "The Chicken Whisperer," as he diligently answers to his roosters every time they give their telltale yodel. "Opapawaydjo," he exclaims ("Papa, where 'a John go?") before answering, "He 'a goin' to the store," when the roosters call back.
"I was born in the country. Since I was a kid, we raised chickens," explains Gadsdon, thumping his chest at a rooster who saunters up to the edge of the coop near him. "We were born close to the earth, and we live off the earth."
Gadsdon's case is a bit different from Georgia's. These are what he and his Geechee neighbors call yard chickens, and they're destined for the dinner table. With an almost equal prevalence of roosters and hens, the flock also wouldn't work too well in an urban environment.
Still, it's not unheard of to hear roosters making their dawn announcement on the peninsula. Penny Patton kept a rooster/hen pair in her Gibbes Street lawn for 14 years, just down the street from Mayor Joe Riley's house.
"He was the love of the neighborhood," recalls Patton of her rooster, explaining that potential complainers were often appeased by the promise of eggs or the adoration of their children. "But they do make a racket, let me tell you."
Patton says her chickens kept the yard free of cockroaches and termites, but also ate the baby bullfrogs living in her fountain.
"They always dig and scratch around for things. We would landscape the yard and then come home to five or six plants scattered around," she says.
Even on the peninsula, foxes, opossums, and raccoons are a threat. But despite clipped wings, the birds could still manage to get high into trees to roost.
Of course, chickens defecate freely and often. Cleaning out the chicken coop has never been a choice job on any farm. Although Patton appreciated the manure as a fertilizer, it's at the top of the "cons" column for other amateur chicken farmers. Other negatives are the inevitable holes left throughout the yard as the birds scratch, dig, and cool themselves down with dust baths.
Within the City of Charleston, it's legal to raise chickens, provided written permission is obtained from all neighbors within 150 feet. That stipulation means that most urban coops fly below the radar. City Paper spoke with three existing downtown chicken owners, none of whom wanted their names printed. All, however, love their hens. One lets hers walk around the kitchen and eat out of her hand. Another lost a hen to a hawk in broad daylight, a reminder of how the laws of nature still exist in the middle of the city.
Most downtown chicken owners stick with hens; they're quieter than roosters. "I have enough trouble with all the college kids around me without adding a rooster to the mix," says one peninsula chicken owner. Another downtown owner who has kept a rooster claims that she's heard others responding when hers called in the mornings. The Tractor Supply store in Ravenel says they've sold more chicks to Charleston residents this year than ever before.
Across the Ashley River, Sybil Fix's backyard coop may be the model of chickens raised right. Thirteen hens wander freely between a shaded, covered shed with plenty of room for nesting and an outdoor area where Fix hangs cabbages for them to munch on throughout the day. Inside her home, Fix's walls are adorned with dozens of paintings of her chickies, from tiny portraits to wall-sized hangings.
"I got them because I'm a huge animal lover. I thought it would be really interesting to develop a connection with a species so foreign to us," says Fix. "Then I started painting them to show their individuality."
Today, at age 7, Georgia happily introduces her hens by name — there's Ms. Frizzle, an especially fluffy Silkie, and her personal favorite, Brownie. Three roosters keep the seven hens company: Spike, Peewee, and Rudy (the bully of the bunch, claims Georgia). She shows off her chicken tractor, a mobile coop that lets chickens move to a fresh patch of grass each day. "They love greens, but they hate onions," explains the little girl, before scooping up Brownie into her arms and posing for a picture.
Georgia's chickens demonstrate both the ease and the work required to own chickens. The Dempseys ordered their chicks online and had food, water, and their coop ready to go when the post office called to say their squeaking little box had arrived. A year later, the family enjoys fresh, home-raised eggs on a daily basis (although the hens' output decreases as the days grow shorter), and Georgia has gained valuable lessons in responsibility at an early age.
Just down the street, Benjamin Tyrone Gadsdon keeps an even larger flock in a series of coops behind his home off of Bears Bluff Road. A mortician by trade, Gadsdon goes by "The Undertaker." He might also be called "The Chicken Whisperer," as he diligently answers to his roosters every time they give their telltale yodel. "Opapawaydjo," he exclaims ("Papa, where 'a John go?") before answering, "He 'a goin' to the store," when the roosters call back.
"I was born in the country. Since I was a kid, we raised chickens," explains Gadsdon, thumping his chest at a rooster who saunters up to the edge of the coop near him. "We were born close to the earth, and we live off the earth."
Gadsdon's case is a bit different from Georgia's. These are what he and his Geechee neighbors call yard chickens, and they're destined for the dinner table. With an almost equal prevalence of roosters and hens, the flock also wouldn't work too well in an urban environment.
Still, it's not unheard of to hear roosters making their dawn announcement on the peninsula. Penny Patton kept a rooster/hen pair in her Gibbes Street lawn for 14 years, just down the street from Mayor Joe Riley's house.
"He was the love of the neighborhood," recalls Patton of her rooster, explaining that potential complainers were often appeased by the promise of eggs or the adoration of their children. "But they do make a racket, let me tell you."
Patton says her chickens kept the yard free of cockroaches and termites, but also ate the baby bullfrogs living in her fountain.
"They always dig and scratch around for things. We would landscape the yard and then come home to five or six plants scattered around," she says.
Even on the peninsula, foxes, opossums, and raccoons are a threat. But despite clipped wings, the birds could still manage to get high into trees to roost.
Of course, chickens defecate freely and often. Cleaning out the chicken coop has never been a choice job on any farm. Although Patton appreciated the manure as a fertilizer, it's at the top of the "cons" column for other amateur chicken farmers. Other negatives are the inevitable holes left throughout the yard as the birds scratch, dig, and cool themselves down with dust baths.
Within the City of Charleston, it's legal to raise chickens, provided written permission is obtained from all neighbors within 150 feet. That stipulation means that most urban coops fly below the radar. City Paper spoke with three existing downtown chicken owners, none of whom wanted their names printed. All, however, love their hens. One lets hers walk around the kitchen and eat out of her hand. Another lost a hen to a hawk in broad daylight, a reminder of how the laws of nature still exist in the middle of the city.
Most downtown chicken owners stick with hens; they're quieter than roosters. "I have enough trouble with all the college kids around me without adding a rooster to the mix," says one peninsula chicken owner. Another downtown owner who has kept a rooster claims that she's heard others responding when hers called in the mornings. The Tractor Supply store in Ravenel says they've sold more chicks to Charleston residents this year than ever before.
Across the Ashley River, Sybil Fix's backyard coop may be the model of chickens raised right. Thirteen hens wander freely between a shaded, covered shed with plenty of room for nesting and an outdoor area where Fix hangs cabbages for them to munch on throughout the day. Inside her home, Fix's walls are adorned with dozens of paintings of her chickies, from tiny portraits to wall-sized hangings.
"I got them because I'm a huge animal lover. I thought it would be really interesting to develop a connection with a species so foreign to us," says Fix. "Then I started painting them to show their individuality."
2011年9月28日星期三
Bees, chicken rules still up in the air
It may not be until early next year before Corte Madera lands regulations about beekeeping and having chicken coops within town limits.
The Planning Commission hosted a second workshop on Sept. 13 and will not address the topic again until Oct. 11.
“The Planning Commission asked for more information and analysis,” said Corte Madera Planning Director Dan Bell. “We will also redraft a set of standards.”
Even if any new regulations move forward with relatively few obstacles, it could be well into November before the Town Council addresses the matter. With public hearings and the council needing a second reading to adopt such amendments, the issue could linger into January.
“The [Sept. 13] workshop was again well attended,” Bell wrote in a report to the Town Council.
“The public and Planning Commission responded to a draft set of regulations/standards for keeping of bees and chickens. The general tenor of the public testimony and Planning Commission response was that regulations/standards should be minimal and if there are future complaints about backyard operations they should be dealt with pursuant to the nuisance ordinance.”
Not everyone agreed. “In stark contrast, the original complainant … argues strongly that backyard keeping of bees and chickens is not appropriate in residential neighborhoods,” Bell added.
Bell said one of the first things he did upon realizing that the issue would be heading to Town Hall was to take a look at how neighboring municipalities are dealing with residents keen on having bees or chickens.
“Generally speaking, there are more-established standards for backyard keeping of chickens than there are for backyard keeping of bees,” a Corte Madera Planning Department staff report stated.
“There appear to be ample local examples of standards for keeping of chickens, if it is decided to amend Corte Madera’s current zoning ordinance. These standards generally allow a maximum number of chickens (not roosters), with additional standards for location and maintenance of chicken coops.”
Several Marin municipalities (Mill Valley, Novato, Ross, San Anselmo and the county) have no regulations whatsoever regarding beekeeping, while others require that residents obtain a permit to keep bees.
Only San Anselmo fails to regulate the keeping of chickens, as the rest of the county places limits on quantity (no more than a dozen chickens is the most lenient rule) and location — typically nowhere near public access or neighbors.
“Staff has reviewed numerous regulatory standards from other local, statewide and nationwide jurisdictions pertaining to the noncommercial (backyard) keeping of bees and chickens,” a staff report read.
“Corte Madera residents have assisted staff by providing documents and Web links on the subject. Not surprisingly, regulatory standards range from complete prohibition to strict regulatory standards to unregulated. The draft standards, as currently written by staff, would effectively prohibit keeping of bees and chickens on small-size parcels that could not meet the proposed lot size or proposed setback standards … Property owners that can provide evidence that the keeping of bees and chickens have operated on their property before March 1978 are ‘grandfathered’ and may continue to operate, since they would pre-date regulatory controls that were enacted by the comprehensive March 1978 Zoning Ordinance Amendment.”
The Planning Commission hosted a second workshop on Sept. 13 and will not address the topic again until Oct. 11.
“The Planning Commission asked for more information and analysis,” said Corte Madera Planning Director Dan Bell. “We will also redraft a set of standards.”
Even if any new regulations move forward with relatively few obstacles, it could be well into November before the Town Council addresses the matter. With public hearings and the council needing a second reading to adopt such amendments, the issue could linger into January.
“The [Sept. 13] workshop was again well attended,” Bell wrote in a report to the Town Council.
“The public and Planning Commission responded to a draft set of regulations/standards for keeping of bees and chickens. The general tenor of the public testimony and Planning Commission response was that regulations/standards should be minimal and if there are future complaints about backyard operations they should be dealt with pursuant to the nuisance ordinance.”
Not everyone agreed. “In stark contrast, the original complainant … argues strongly that backyard keeping of bees and chickens is not appropriate in residential neighborhoods,” Bell added.
Bell said one of the first things he did upon realizing that the issue would be heading to Town Hall was to take a look at how neighboring municipalities are dealing with residents keen on having bees or chickens.
“Generally speaking, there are more-established standards for backyard keeping of chickens than there are for backyard keeping of bees,” a Corte Madera Planning Department staff report stated.
“There appear to be ample local examples of standards for keeping of chickens, if it is decided to amend Corte Madera’s current zoning ordinance. These standards generally allow a maximum number of chickens (not roosters), with additional standards for location and maintenance of chicken coops.”
Several Marin municipalities (Mill Valley, Novato, Ross, San Anselmo and the county) have no regulations whatsoever regarding beekeeping, while others require that residents obtain a permit to keep bees.
Only San Anselmo fails to regulate the keeping of chickens, as the rest of the county places limits on quantity (no more than a dozen chickens is the most lenient rule) and location — typically nowhere near public access or neighbors.
“Staff has reviewed numerous regulatory standards from other local, statewide and nationwide jurisdictions pertaining to the noncommercial (backyard) keeping of bees and chickens,” a staff report read.
“Corte Madera residents have assisted staff by providing documents and Web links on the subject. Not surprisingly, regulatory standards range from complete prohibition to strict regulatory standards to unregulated. The draft standards, as currently written by staff, would effectively prohibit keeping of bees and chickens on small-size parcels that could not meet the proposed lot size or proposed setback standards … Property owners that can provide evidence that the keeping of bees and chickens have operated on their property before March 1978 are ‘grandfathered’ and may continue to operate, since they would pre-date regulatory controls that were enacted by the comprehensive March 1978 Zoning Ordinance Amendment.”
2011年5月29日星期日
My Totally Hot Car: 1919 Ford speedster
Bob and Elsa Robb of Lake Forest are the proud owners of this rare 1919 Ford speedster, a car that originally began its life as a Model T but was enthusiastically transformed into something much more exciting a long time ago.
"After WW I, American soldiers returning from Europe bought worn-out, dilapidated Model T Fords," Bob Robb said about these cars. "They were cheap and plentiful. They removed the original bodies to make them lighter, modified the engines and raced them."
Robb found this model about six years ago in, of all places, a chicken coop in barn at a home in Newcastle, outside of Sacramento. At that time, the car belonged in a man's collection after he bought it from the family of the late previous owner in Ohio, where it had been part of another private collection since the early 1960s.
"I looked at it and fell in love with it," Robb recalls. Just days after returning to Orange County, Robb couldn't get the car off his mind.
"I had to have it," he said. So he dialed up the owner, made a deal, and trailered it home.
"It was in very good condition, but it wasn't runnable," Robb said. "It had not been driven since 1963."
That didn't present a problem for Robb, 75, who had been working on cars "since I was a little kid." (His first vehicle was a 1930 Ford Model A.)
"I worked on it about two months before it was road-worthy," he said.
"The engine is the original that was put in it in 1919," Robb said. "Most of last winter I overhauled it. It had never been bored. I put in new pistons, and the valves were so sloppy you could throw a cat through them."
The L-head four-cylinder now makes approximately 50 horsepower, and Robb estimates the car's top speed at 60 mph. But even at 50 mph, Robb can only describe driving this thing as "scary."
"I said, 'I'll never do that again,'" he said. "It felt like it would fly apart."
And that's not the only thing.
"God gave us two arms and two legs, and Henry Ford gave us four pedals and four levers on top," Robb says of the car's complex controls, which include a throttle lever on top along with the steering column, an ignition advance, a hand-operated clutch and the choke.
But that doesn't deter Robb from driving it every chance he gets. He's a frequent attendee at car shows and has it on the road as much as possible. The car has also been featured in parades and a TV commercial.
"Of all the cars I've had," Robb says, "This has given me the most joy."
"After WW I, American soldiers returning from Europe bought worn-out, dilapidated Model T Fords," Bob Robb said about these cars. "They were cheap and plentiful. They removed the original bodies to make them lighter, modified the engines and raced them."
Robb found this model about six years ago in, of all places, a chicken coop in barn at a home in Newcastle, outside of Sacramento. At that time, the car belonged in a man's collection after he bought it from the family of the late previous owner in Ohio, where it had been part of another private collection since the early 1960s.
"I looked at it and fell in love with it," Robb recalls. Just days after returning to Orange County, Robb couldn't get the car off his mind.
"I had to have it," he said. So he dialed up the owner, made a deal, and trailered it home.
"It was in very good condition, but it wasn't runnable," Robb said. "It had not been driven since 1963."
That didn't present a problem for Robb, 75, who had been working on cars "since I was a little kid." (His first vehicle was a 1930 Ford Model A.)
"I worked on it about two months before it was road-worthy," he said.
"The engine is the original that was put in it in 1919," Robb said. "Most of last winter I overhauled it. It had never been bored. I put in new pistons, and the valves were so sloppy you could throw a cat through them."
The L-head four-cylinder now makes approximately 50 horsepower, and Robb estimates the car's top speed at 60 mph. But even at 50 mph, Robb can only describe driving this thing as "scary."
"I said, 'I'll never do that again,'" he said. "It felt like it would fly apart."
And that's not the only thing.
"God gave us two arms and two legs, and Henry Ford gave us four pedals and four levers on top," Robb says of the car's complex controls, which include a throttle lever on top along with the steering column, an ignition advance, a hand-operated clutch and the choke.
But that doesn't deter Robb from driving it every chance he gets. He's a frequent attendee at car shows and has it on the road as much as possible. The car has also been featured in parades and a TV commercial.
"Of all the cars I've had," Robb says, "This has given me the most joy."
订阅：
博文 (Atom)