Capital Growth Coupled with the Principles of Production Expansion

No, this isn’t about economics. Believe it or not, the title of this post is from one of the chapters in the book I’m reviewing, Lawn Boy. Lawn Boy was written by Gary Paulsen, the award winning author of Hatchet which I have heard fabulous things about.

Several of my fellow school librarians said they liked this book. I did not. The book was very informative on the subjects of economics and business. I’ll give it that. I almost majored in business and accounting, and I have five accounting classes under my belt which I all aced. I’m pretty book smart, not so much the other smart. ūüôā

So anyway, I don’t mind reading about the business world. But for pleasure reading, it must have a strong, interesting plot. Sure, I like learning about new things, but if I don’t find the story interesting, I’m done. I don’t want to learn more. I refuse to.

The book is about a boy who is given a riding lawn mower for his birthday and decides to start mowing people’s yards. As his business grows, so do his problems. He learns about profit margins and the stock market from a strange looking neighbor who claims to be a stockbroker.

The book is only 88 pages and, as some other reviewers pointed out, is a short read. Someone please tell me why the shortness of a book is considered a plus in some readers’ minds? Obviously, they really don’t like the story if they’re getting excited about it ending soon.

If your child likes learning about business or wants to have their own raking leaves or lemonade stand company, then this book might interest them. But parents, please don’t make them read it if they don’t find the topic intriguing, even if it’s a “short read.”
I give this book 0 out of 5 chocolate bars. Rating = Hey, who ate all the chocolate?

Inspiring Blog Award

I am such a newbie to blogging, I didn’t understand what this award meant until my good friend Sharon explain it to me. So please excuse the lateness of this post.

Thank you Patty, nominating me. As someone just beginning on the journey of blogging, your encouragement meant a lot.

The rules say that you need to thank and link back whoever nominated you. Then you must list seven things about yourself and then try to nominate 15 other people for the award. I’m going to try to get to this as close as I can.

1.) I like to make people laugh

2.) I enjoy watching and reading anime and graphic novels

3.) I speak limited Chinese

4.) I play the violin

5.) I want to travel to Alaska and go Birding

6.) I can’t ride a bike (I know, horrible)

7.) At the age of 18, I had over $20,000 in my bank account (and yes, I blew it all)

People I nominate

I want it BAD, baby

Here is a¬†familiar topic we all know and love…the villain! I don’t know why I feel like discussing this type of character. Perhaps it’s because I’m finally at a point in my story where I’ve started to write about him, or maybe it’s some other physiological reason unbeknown to me. (lol) Now, I’m not trying to explain how¬†to create¬†a good villain. We all have different opinions about that. But I do want to know the answer to at least one of my question, why does society love a scoundrel?

Some might object, claiming no one loves the bad guy. I hope they are correct. However, let me tell you this. I was a classroom teacher last year. On special occasions, I handed out coloring pages for good behavior or on those rare treats like the day before Christmas. I had this Star Wars coloring book I used for the boys, and they liked it. But the boys didn’t want a picture of Luke or Han. Every single time they wanted to color Darth Vader! Even when I told them they shouldn’t always want to color the bad guy, I would still only have one or two call out, “I like coloring the good guy, teacher!”

If that wasn’t proof enough, answer me, what takes our breath away when we go see the latest movie? What makes us ‘feel’ when we read the newest novel from our favorite author? You will say, “When the protagonist is in trouble, silly!” But why should we care about the protagonist? Don’t bother me with how many times Clark Kent goes to work everyday for the newspaper and bumps into things. WHO CARES! Frankly, it starts to get annoying.

My theory is simple, the amount we care about Superman winning at the end of the movie is dependent upon the relationship he has with Lex Luther. For every good, there is an evil, for every ying, there is a yang. The¬†bad guy¬†is as important, if not more than, the good and pure guy.¬†Besides, if¬†Lex Luther was a sorry ass villain, then Superman’s victory wouldn’t be near as thrilling as when Lex is about to push the button to blow up America. It’s no wonder we love villains. Without them, we have no story, we have no plot. We have nothing but a fancy pants.

Sometimes, there’s the dark hero plagued by internal conflict. This conflict is more sinister than usual. But villains don’t have to be a second person. They can be the hero like with Batman, who is sometimes viewed as a savior and other times an evil doer. I would go as far as to say Bale, in American Psycho, is another example. Yes, he goes around cutting people up, but the odd thing about it, he’s the only person who can stop his madness. Every so often you see a glimpse of that “hero” in the movie, even though it never wins. (And yes, I do love me some Christian Bale) I find myself yaying for the hero part of that movie, hoping he will change his ways. Why? Because the villain is so evil, such an¬†‘extact opposite’¬†to the¬†hero, that I can’t help but want good to win.

Authors, love your villains and¬†treat them with care. They do so much for us. The least you can do back is give them a bloody, glorious death. They wouldn’t want it any other way. ūüėČ

Favorite Poem

The Panther – by Rainer

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,

has grown so weary that it cannot hold

anything else. It seems to him there are

a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,

the movement of his powerful soft strides

is like a ritual dance around a center

in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils

lift, quietly–. An image enters in,

rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,

plunges into the heart and is gone.