Val Muller

I loved this book as a child, and I re-read it for educational purposes—I’ll be presenting some workshops on using literature to encourage closer reading later this year. The book was even more poignant than I remembered it, and I love the freedom theme running through it.

The novel follows Annemarie and Ellen, two girls in Copenhagen during Nazi occupation in the 1940s. While they’re just trying to live their lives, they are introduced to things they barely understand: Jewish shops that are forced to close, shortages of goods, explosions, people who seem to disappear, and growing Nazi presence. Early on, Annemarie snuggles in bed, “glad to be an ordinary person who would never be called upon for courage” (26). This introduces an important theme, as she is called upon later to help save her friend.

Upon first re-read, Lowry’s verb choice struck me. Though written for young readers, Lowry uses strong verbs that help to characterize each group. For the soldiers, she uses menacing verbs (and other diction). There is also the theme of freedom and being called to be part of a Resistance mentioned as early as the first chapter. In bedtime tales, the theme of an entire country being willing to die to protect someone else introduces the theme of sacrifice for a greater goal. In this case, people must be willing to stand up to a monster, even at the cost of their own lives.

There is also symbolism and literary relevance woven throughout the tale. For instance, Annemarie’s older sister has died, but when Annemarie’s family takes Ellen into their home to pretend to be a sibling (to hide from the Nazis), her father says, “Once I had three daughters. Tonight I am proud to have three daughters again” (38).

What I respect about this book is: even though it’s for young readers, its use of details “respect the reader.” The details help to build the world the characters are forced to inhabit. They add historical relevance as well as characterization. Motifs and themes, such as the use of fairy tales as metaphors, emerge and re-emerge, adding meaning to the tale. Many books for young readers simply skip such details. It’s a book I recommend for readers of any age. I read it as a child (many times). I treasured it then, and I enjoyed it just as much this time.

This was one of my favorite books when I was younger, so I thought I’d re-read it. The book was not as good as I remember it, mostly because of the outdated writing style, but I enjoyed the plot and remember why I loved it so much as a kid.

The premise: the world has just experienced its worst plague ever, and all adults are killed off—only those approximately twelve and under are spared. Lisa, the protagonist, is determined to build up civilization again rather than live like a frightened animal. She and her brother, and some kids from the neighborhood, first try to reinforce their homes in the Chicago suburbs, but after too many gang attacks, they move to the high school, which becomes their city.

Lisa thrives by using her brain when others resort to animalistic or mob mentalities. For instance, when she arrives at a grocery store, she notes that the items most appealing to children are gone—soda, candy—but the items children don’t like—canned asparagus and spinach—are still there. She takes these items because they are more healthy. Later, she and her brother are healthy while other kids, who have survived on just candy, are sick. She also thinks through the situation to find a warehouse in the city filled with over a year’s worth of food–most kids only thought to go after grocery stores. When she still lived in her neighborhood, she organized the children into a militia. They created alarm systems and booby traps to help fight the gangs. She’s also the first one to realize that kids should learn how to drive cars and find gasoline for generators. Throughout the entire novel, Lisa emphasizes that they can only persevere through hard work. As a kid, I loved her toughness, her work ethic, and her use of rationality to solve problems.

I learned, only when searching for a copy, that O.T. Nelson wrote the book to illustrate Ayn Rand’s principles of objectivism in a simple way that kids could understand. As a kid, I didn’t pick up on the fact that there was a “lesson” to be learned. I’ll admit, though, I am a fan of Rand’s philosophy, so the book must have naturally resonated with me as a kid.

Now, as a “grown up” and a writer, I picked up on some of the writing issues in the book. Some of the “lessons” were told through a series of bedtime stories Lisa told her younger brother to keep him confident. Others, though, were told directly rather than shown, giving it the “feel” of a lesson rather than an illustration. The book was a quick and easy read—I read it in two sittings—and could have benefited from added details to illustrate elements of Rand’s philosophy, such as pride in ownership and happiness from accomplishment. There were times when Lisa would say something Randish, and it seemed to come out of the blue. Sometimes Lisa even notes that most kids don’t understand her philosophy yet, but she just moves on from there. At one point, the littlest kids are all grumpy and whining. Lisa points out that they’re grumpy because they all have to share everything—they don’t have their own possessions, and they also are being sheltered and not asked to work for anything. While I like and agree with the idea behind this, it was not illustrated in the book, so someone with whom this idea does not naturally resonate might be left scratching his head. The author even shows how someone who simply follows Rand’s philosophy is seen as unlikeable in society. This is true, but the issue isn’t really addressed much beyond that point.

Part of the issue here is that the book was first published in 1975. Books from earlier eras are different stylistically. A lot more was told rather than shown, and books tended to be shorter. (Harry Potter helped to break that rule). This meant less could be illustrated. The idea for the novel is fun—I remember imagining how I would survive if all the adults died of a plague—and if rewritten today, I think it would be written in a more enjoyable style. I would have liked to see more details that might be more acceptable to add today, such as what the kids did when they encountered dead bodies (it’s a glossed-over subject, and it seems mostly they avoided going into houses where they thought there were dead people, or it was explained that most adults went to hospitals to die, but still, I would have like to see at least one dead body to see what the kids had to deal with. Again, books like The Hunger Games, written more recently, seem to have pushed the envelope on what is acceptable to write in a story meant for children.

Still, the novel contains a strong female protagonist who offers a useful philosophy for living life: fear (of failure, of others, etc.) leads one to act irrationally. Having confidence and seeing each obstacle as a challenge to solve rationally can be “fun” because it leads to accomplishments and ownership (and, thus, pride and satisfaction).

In my kids’ mystery series, the protagonist’s mother is crazy about correcting grammar—to the extent that she gets distracted and lost, runs late, or loses track of all else in her life. The character, Mrs. Hollinger, is based loosely on a combination of me, my mother, and every grammar guru I know. But she was always meant to be a hyperbole. I never imagined anyone would really do such things beyond allowing a bit of internal musing about the world’s bad grammar.

A colleague of mine proved me wrong. She recommended The Great Typo Hunt because it’s about a recent college graduate who decides to take a cross-country quest, ridding the nation of bad grammar and typos along the way. I greatly enjoyed the premise of this novel. Reading it, it felt a little long at times, but I tend to be less patient when it comes to reading non-fiction (you’ll notice I review mostly fiction here).

Deck’s style made the novel enjoyable. He subtitles each chapter with an over-the-top subheading taking advantage of the mock-heroic style. He also fills his chapters with allusions, metaphors, and references that reflect his high level of education. If a reader doesn’t “get” the allusion, it’s not a big deal to move on, but the references help to add depth and enjoyment to the novel. I must admit, however, that even the clever mock-heroic style got old for me after a while. Again, I think I’m just being grumpy here because I have less patience for non-fiction.

Deck has the tools that any epic hero needs: Callie (his car), Authority (his GPS), and his “weapon,” a typo correction kit. This kit contains Wite-Out, various shades of chalk, permanent and dry-erase, and anything else Deck and his buddies need and acquire along the way. Deck’s personality also emerges through the novel. He takes a handful of companions—one at a time—on his journey with him, and each person he interacts with serves in some ways as a foil to his own character. For instance, he is much less outgoing than his main companion, Ben. When the two of them are together, Ben pushes Deck to correct more and more typos. Deck’s girlfriend, on the other hand, is much less enthusiastic about the mission, especially since it means Deck is on the road for months at a time. When she joins him for a leg of the journey, she is not as adamant about correcting typos, and Deck doubts his journey.

Through the journey, Deck also asks himself a larger question: why is this quest so important? Is it about communication? Standards? He muses on these issues as he travels. The book is copyrighted 2010 (it took place in the years prior), and Deck also expresses lots of hope for the election of Obama, making connections to an idea for increased communication as part of his typo-correcting mission. I must say here, though, that our country’s communication problem goes far beyond superficial typos and grammar errors, so I found his musings slightly superficial here–to the tune of unicorns and rainbows.

What I found most fascinating about the book were the few chapters at the end dealing with Deck’s run-in with the Federal Government. He and his buddy inadvertently vandalized a historic sign at the Grand Canyon—they thought they were simply correcting a grammatical error—and were charged and forced to appear in Federal Court, costing a total of $10,000 and accepting one year of probation during which time they waived their First Amendment, taking down their website and promising not to encourage other people to correct grammar or typos on federal or government property. The ridiculousness of that interaction, to me, reinforces my distaste for the government (mindless bureaucracy at its best—this chapter is full of irony!).

It’s a decent read, but to fully appreciate it, I think one should truly care about grammar and have a college education to understand the various references made.

• Being Henry David by Cal Armistead
• Bomb by Steve Sheinkin
• Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell
• Hannah’s Dream by Diane Hammond
• Stupid Fast by Geoff Herbach
• The Chosen One by Carol Lynch Williams
• The Great Typo Hunt by Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson
• The Lady of Steinbrekka by Kristi Strong
• The Raft by S. A. Bodeen
• The Scarred Letter by Val Muller