Second Quarter Outside Reading Book Review
The Cretan Runner by George Psychoundakis. Published by Penguin Books
Novel Genre: Non-Fiction
The Cretan Runner is a witness account of the German Invasion of Crete in 1941 which devastated Crete for several months. It is written like a journal, and narrated in first-person by the author, George Psychoundakis. The story's protagonist is the author during the invasion where he is 21 at the time and first takes place in Canea, Greece but through his journeys is brought to several other cities on the island and even Egypt. George is given the task of sending important messages to cities and villages on the island of Crete, which is very mountainous. This means he and whomever he runs with must cross mountains daily and avoid German search parties. Throughout the book, he suffers from close calls with the Germans, starvation, and many other problems.
"Full of death, and the excitement of a fighter who wildly enjoys his own part of the dangerous business."-The Sunday Times. I completely agree with the quote as George did live and enjoy the lifestyle at several points, even in the bleakest times. He was also known for his infectious laugh and personality by many who knew him, and by his commander at one point who also translated the book from Greek, (Sir) Patrick Fermor.
In this book, the writing style is very similar to basic English and is sometimes hard to read in one sitting as some points in description become very lengthy. Also, since it was translated into English by a British man, it sometimes differs from American English in certain word meanings. "Soon the long-awaited telegram, saying that the aeroplane with stores would be arriving in a few days, came from Cairo. I don't remember where I had been sent, but I was not present at the drop. But when I got back, I learnt the whole queer story."(81) This was towards to beginning of the story which was describing the first night of the invasion when several airplanes began dropping German parachutists onto the island during the dead of night.
Reading this book I saw how hard some moments were for many in Europe. People often times had livestock and food stolen so that the Germans could continue to fight. I also have a relationship with this book through my grandfather and his brother who were very similar to George. They also served in the Greek Resistance during World War II and also sometimes sent messages to other cities and villages. I enjoyed this book greatly and would like to read other books by George Psychoundakis as he wrote other books about World War II, and the fact that I like to read about stories, fiction or non-fiction, about events in World War II.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Man's best friend or Pricey Music?
Do something you think is valuable have to be something pricey? Or can it be one always-memorable moment that stays in your thoughts forever? Modern day society is infatuated with new technology as new gadgets and gizmos are all the rage nowadays, but do you think that without them you wouldn’t be happy? Do you cherish the moments that stay present in your mind for a lifetime, or the technology-savvy new objects that are placed at ever-rising expensive prices?
I pull a jet-black hoody over my head and shut the door behind me. My black Labrador, Daisy, gallops out from underneath me. As she almost trips me she grabs the old and ripped ball in her mouth and utters a playful growl. She stares at me with happiness and joy. She rips the ball around, tearing more and more pieces of it off as she does. She wants to play, and the games will finally begin.
It all started back in July when my brother bought me a dog for my birthday. He was coming back after graduating from college, and on his way back from Colorado, he saw a sign for Labrador Retrievers. He knew I wanted a dog, and hastily chose the rambunctious one, knowing I would like her, and got on his way back to Massachusetts. When he first brought her to me, she ran to me and tackled me, licking me vigorously. She quickly became part of the family.
As we start to play, she runs circles around me, toying with me with the soccer ball falling half-way out of her mouth. I grab her, wrestle the toy away and kick it across my yard. Her spindly puppy legs fly out immediately to chase the ball with ease. She, with lightening speed, gets the ball back to me within seconds. This is the routine with her almost daily, and it’s what I love.
As I turn on my glossy iPod, I am still drowsy with sleep. Its azure plating shines from even the dim light in my bedroom. I rise with some soft rock and finally get on with the day. Since it’s not even six o’clock in the morning, I need everything I can to start the day off in as best of a way as possible. By the end of the day, I’m listening to some fast-beat hip-hop and heavy rock to get me ready for my game.
I first got my iPod a year ago for Christmas. It shone luminously when I first saw it, still in its case. I tore open the case as gently as possible, careful not to scratch its gleaming plating. I opened it and my face was in a grin ear-to-ear. Within the next week I had 300 songs and an abundant amount of videos and pictures saved to its memory. My iPod was now to be put into regular use almost daily, even after going through a washing machine three times.
I sluggishly step into my father’s car still with the sound of soft rock tuned into my ears. As he revs his engine of his “Tank,” a Chevrolet Two-door pickup truck, I am oblivious to the sound over the guitar solo by Coheed and Cambria. He then pulls out of the rain-slicked driveway and we embark on our journey. It takes a good forty minutes to get to school, being that I live in Palmer, but I manage with the help of my iPod. The shuffle setting is like heaven as I lay back and relax. I do this prolifically throughout the weeks. From the bus ride to long soccer games, or to the long rides to school, my iPod is always in my pocket playing some beats to either calm me down and relax, or get me pumped for a game.
What is, in actuality and reality, valuable? Spending time with my puppy and listening to my iPod are two completely different things, but are both invaluable. From my routines in the morning, my iPod gives me relief and relaxation during the late nights and early morning drives to school. Even on my way to games, it gets me pumped and ready to play. My trench-coated puppy is the same way. Sleeping in my bed with me at night, and playing with me during the day with her ripped soccer ball, she is loveable and playful yet always with me to comfort me in bad times, but keep me happy in good times. Even though there is always something I can do with my iPod, I prefer my dog-playing-days over any iPod usage ever. Even during the cold winter nights when my iPod is half frozen and not working, my dog is there to warm me up, sitting on the couch with me until we both fall asleep.
I pull a jet-black hoody over my head and shut the door behind me. My black Labrador, Daisy, gallops out from underneath me. As she almost trips me she grabs the old and ripped ball in her mouth and utters a playful growl. She stares at me with happiness and joy. She rips the ball around, tearing more and more pieces of it off as she does. She wants to play, and the games will finally begin.
It all started back in July when my brother bought me a dog for my birthday. He was coming back after graduating from college, and on his way back from Colorado, he saw a sign for Labrador Retrievers. He knew I wanted a dog, and hastily chose the rambunctious one, knowing I would like her, and got on his way back to Massachusetts. When he first brought her to me, she ran to me and tackled me, licking me vigorously. She quickly became part of the family.
As we start to play, she runs circles around me, toying with me with the soccer ball falling half-way out of her mouth. I grab her, wrestle the toy away and kick it across my yard. Her spindly puppy legs fly out immediately to chase the ball with ease. She, with lightening speed, gets the ball back to me within seconds. This is the routine with her almost daily, and it’s what I love.
As I turn on my glossy iPod, I am still drowsy with sleep. Its azure plating shines from even the dim light in my bedroom. I rise with some soft rock and finally get on with the day. Since it’s not even six o’clock in the morning, I need everything I can to start the day off in as best of a way as possible. By the end of the day, I’m listening to some fast-beat hip-hop and heavy rock to get me ready for my game.
I first got my iPod a year ago for Christmas. It shone luminously when I first saw it, still in its case. I tore open the case as gently as possible, careful not to scratch its gleaming plating. I opened it and my face was in a grin ear-to-ear. Within the next week I had 300 songs and an abundant amount of videos and pictures saved to its memory. My iPod was now to be put into regular use almost daily, even after going through a washing machine three times.
I sluggishly step into my father’s car still with the sound of soft rock tuned into my ears. As he revs his engine of his “Tank,” a Chevrolet Two-door pickup truck, I am oblivious to the sound over the guitar solo by Coheed and Cambria. He then pulls out of the rain-slicked driveway and we embark on our journey. It takes a good forty minutes to get to school, being that I live in Palmer, but I manage with the help of my iPod. The shuffle setting is like heaven as I lay back and relax. I do this prolifically throughout the weeks. From the bus ride to long soccer games, or to the long rides to school, my iPod is always in my pocket playing some beats to either calm me down and relax, or get me pumped for a game.
What is, in actuality and reality, valuable? Spending time with my puppy and listening to my iPod are two completely different things, but are both invaluable. From my routines in the morning, my iPod gives me relief and relaxation during the late nights and early morning drives to school. Even on my way to games, it gets me pumped and ready to play. My trench-coated puppy is the same way. Sleeping in my bed with me at night, and playing with me during the day with her ripped soccer ball, she is loveable and playful yet always with me to comfort me in bad times, but keep me happy in good times. Even though there is always something I can do with my iPod, I prefer my dog-playing-days over any iPod usage ever. Even during the cold winter nights when my iPod is half frozen and not working, my dog is there to warm me up, sitting on the couch with me until we both fall asleep.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
First Quarter Outside Reading Book
First Quarter Outside Reading Book Review
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. Fine Creative Media Inc. 2005.
Novel Genre: Adventure
Treasure Island is a story of greedy pirates, lust for treasure and sheds light on some of the inner community of piracy. The storyline is narrated by a an adolescent by the name of Jim Hawkins and shows descriptively throughout the book how a young boy in the 18th century would retell an epic adventure. Set in England, Jim finds a map in an old pirate’s room and is convinced it is a treasure map. He and two other men are set on finding the treasure, but are set up for failure from the very beginning.
Angus Fletcher writes;” The unexpected and complex relationship that develops between Silver and Jim helps transform what seems at first to be a simple, rip-roaring adventure story into a deeply moving study of a boy’s growth into manhood, as he learns hard lessons about friendship, loyalty, courage, and honor- and the uncertain meaning of good and evil.” I like how Fletcher describes some of the deepest parts of Treasure Island and am astounded by how he writes this, as it seems very much so like the writing of Stevenson’s’ but in a much modern form. Fletcher picks the bowels of this book and completely puts them in a view that describes the troubles in Treasure Island.
Treasure Island is written like it should be, in a descriptive old English and is perfect for the description of many of the events throughout the book. Stevenson writes like a boy would, describing much almost in a poetic manner and shows certain emotions like fear and independence as I expect Jim would have. Stevenson shows the adventure a teenage boy would have and flows very well throughout the book, even at its roughest parts the book still shines.
“It was Silver’s voice, and before I had heard a dozen words, I would not have shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling and listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for from these dozen words I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended on me alone.” (75)
As I read Stevenson’s Treasure Island I was infatuated by its style of description. Being written in the 1800s, it is easy to see how such a book can still be read for centuries to come, as it contains a flow some have only dreamed of writing and its descriptions are amazing, containing some of the best writing I have ever seen. I will certainly look to see if Stevenson has written any other books and give them a shot at reading them.
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. Fine Creative Media Inc. 2005.
Novel Genre: Adventure
Treasure Island is a story of greedy pirates, lust for treasure and sheds light on some of the inner community of piracy. The storyline is narrated by a an adolescent by the name of Jim Hawkins and shows descriptively throughout the book how a young boy in the 18th century would retell an epic adventure. Set in England, Jim finds a map in an old pirate’s room and is convinced it is a treasure map. He and two other men are set on finding the treasure, but are set up for failure from the very beginning.
Angus Fletcher writes;” The unexpected and complex relationship that develops between Silver and Jim helps transform what seems at first to be a simple, rip-roaring adventure story into a deeply moving study of a boy’s growth into manhood, as he learns hard lessons about friendship, loyalty, courage, and honor- and the uncertain meaning of good and evil.” I like how Fletcher describes some of the deepest parts of Treasure Island and am astounded by how he writes this, as it seems very much so like the writing of Stevenson’s’ but in a much modern form. Fletcher picks the bowels of this book and completely puts them in a view that describes the troubles in Treasure Island.
Treasure Island is written like it should be, in a descriptive old English and is perfect for the description of many of the events throughout the book. Stevenson writes like a boy would, describing much almost in a poetic manner and shows certain emotions like fear and independence as I expect Jim would have. Stevenson shows the adventure a teenage boy would have and flows very well throughout the book, even at its roughest parts the book still shines.
“It was Silver’s voice, and before I had heard a dozen words, I would not have shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling and listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for from these dozen words I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended on me alone.” (75)
As I read Stevenson’s Treasure Island I was infatuated by its style of description. Being written in the 1800s, it is easy to see how such a book can still be read for centuries to come, as it contains a flow some have only dreamed of writing and its descriptions are amazing, containing some of the best writing I have ever seen. I will certainly look to see if Stevenson has written any other books and give them a shot at reading them.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Kastro's Indian Game Essay
This essay prompt is about two books Ender's Game and The Absolute True Story of a Part-time Indian in which one of the characters meets another from another book.
Junior sat in his first class of the day at Reardan. The school that was 22 miles away from his hometown, Wellpinit, with a bunch of white kids who seemed to hate Indians. Junior felt immensely out of place. At least he was smart enough to be taking geometry as a freshmen, but that probably wasn’t very good as sophomores stared him down walking into the room as he was someone who didn’t belong. The only upside was Penelope. He was given some questions to do but it was open, but he was staring. Not at the book but staring as he always did at Penelope. Wondering if she would go to the dance with him, but he was too poor, he knew it. But he always put himself down like this. He knew it himself.
Just as he was about to start working as he should have been for 10 minutes, he heard the door click open to see a slim but strong-looking boy walk in. He handed a note to the teacher and sat down next to Junior. Junior was surprised to see a man’s face on a boy’s body. The teacher stood and announced “Class, this is Andrew Wiggin, he is new just like Junior, so please make him welcome.” Junior sniggered and thought on how he was treated on his first day. Boy was that hell. “I’d rather Ender.” Andrew said quietly. Junior stared. He doubted anyone would give him THAT much of respect. Hell, he had less respect than even Gordy, the school genius, but they were beginning to become friends anyway. The teacher nodded and went back to something on her computer. Ender looked at the geometry book, and laughed to himself. Within 5 minutes he was finished with 3 pages of advanced geometry. He sat and waited, his face contorted in thought. Junior stared almost as much as he did at Penelope. “HE JUST FINISHED GEOMETRY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE ANOTHER HOUR.” Junior thought. The teacher looked distressed as if he was some idiot who just didn’t try. “Ender, are you finished?” Ender got out of his trance immediately and stated “Yes.” Junior thought the teacher was going to hit Ender by the way her face twisted into a scowl. “Let me see your paper.” Ender walked up, gave her the paper, and sat back down. All eyes were on him, but he seemed like he didn’t care. He just sat, again deep in thought, for the rest of the class. Of course the scowl that he was given was given again as the teacher announced “Alright Ender, you finished your homework for now. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow.” The bell rang an hour later and Junior rushed to Ender. “How the hell did you do that?” He demanded. Ender didn’t say much, but looked at Junior and said “It’s easy.” Junior didn’t have any classes with Ender until after lunch, but at lunch he sat with him. “Where did you come from?” Junior asked. Ender kept on eating but answered. “If I told you, you would never believe me.” Junior gave him a quizzical look but decided to stick with him. He had much to learn about Ender, and there was something that made Junior very curious. Lunch ended and Junior didn’t talk to Ender for the rest of the day until after school.
As Junior walked out of Reardan, he was immediately tackled and thrown around. It caught him off guard and couldn’t do much about it until he saw Ender come out of nowhere and give one of the 4 or so kids a right hook no one had ever seen before. The other kids immediately stopped beating up Junior and backed away. Junior was helped up by Ender and they both walked away as the kids were looking at the kid who had been knocked out and most likely had a broken jaw. Junior was the one who spoke after a few minutes of walking. “Thank you.” His ribs were bruised and he was bleeding a little, but he was ok. Ender smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it, I was just like you when I was your age.” Junior almost laughed. “What do you mean? I’m as old as you!” Ender smiled again and said “You can think that.” Junior and Ender hitchhiked to Wellpinit and Ender was dropped off just outside of the town. Junior finally found a friend at Reardan.
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