The Tao of Pooh – Benjamin Hoff

            Well, this is certainly an interesting entry – The Tao of Pooh seems to occupy a space somewhere between fiction and non-fiction. I had friends in high school who were assigned this book, and were upset to be reading “kiddy books,” only to be surprised at the depth of Taoist philosophy present in the book – something that they were entirely unfamiliar with. I had the same experience reading it. If I were to teach this book, I would make it a priority to immediately dispel the thoughts that this is just a book about Winnie the Pooh, which was kind of my expectation when I picked it up.

Despite containing fictional characters who appear in the actual narration of the book, The Tao of Pooh is much more like a piece of literary criticism than anything. Most of the bare-bones traits of fiction are missing here – plot, character growth, conflict. In a way, the absence of conflict is a reflection of the philosophy that the book endorses and teaches. However, there are still some remnants of fiction in the book. Voice is a constant presence, as Pooh playfully interrupts the narrator, drifting in and out of the conversation. The book is also extremely well-organized. The different tenets of Taoism that The Tao Of Pooh sets out to explain are each allotted a chapter, which is full of both Pooh stories and Taoist stories.

This aspect of the book is extremely teachable. This may be one of the most fully standalone multicultural books I’ve ever read, as it goes deeply into two specific cultures, rather than glancing shallowly over several. Hoff seems intent on portraying both Taoism and the Western culture of Pooh as authentically as he can, and he relies on texts to ensure the authenticity.

Another extremely teachable element of The Tao of Pooh is its status as literary criticism. Perhaps my students will have been exposed to literary criticism by this point. Unfortunately, to the typical high school student, criticism that can be found in those big books in the library is stuffy, old, and dry. Although it is a fairly unique specimen, The Tao of Pooh provides an example of perfectly viable literary criticism – one that doesn’t drone or bury itself in literary references. It is criticism that can have fun, and this is what’s important for this introduction to the genre. Maybe students will be able to appreciate the value of the interconnectivity of the texts, opening them up to other helpful literary criticism that will deepen their thoughts about literature and strengthen their critical thinking skills.

One thing that I’m not so sure about is whether or not the teaching of this book would qualify as unwarranted teaching of religion. When my friends in school were assigned the book, they said it wasn’t really presented as a religious text. While it’s true that the book isn’t part of a canon, I find it somewhat offensive that the book was presented as a sort of distant explanation of Taoism – a summary of a dead religion, which is certainly not the case. However, to lean too far in the other direction is also troublesome. Of course, I wouldn’t be assessing students based on whether their actions are aligned with Taoism, but even to assess them on the content of the book would require that they understand and analyze the values of the religion, and I’m not sure how comfortable I am with pushing that as a required text.  As valuable as I may find this book, I would have to make a judgment based on the school’s philosophy, the students in the class, and the approval of higher-ups and parents. 

The Goats – Brock Cole

I’m really not sure how I felt about The Goats. Perhaps it was just the authority figure in me, but I think I was so dismayed that the camp director and counselors, and even the police officer at the end, showed such an immense lack of responsibility and common sense, that a lot of the story with Howie and Laura was seen through a haze of disbelief. The prank – stripping a boy and a girl to leave on an island, in hopes that they’ll jump all over one another, is just cruel enough to justify their flight. The two children are placed in a position of hardship, but they certainly seem to adjust very quickly. Especially with the boy and girl being as “socially retarded” as they are (the parlance of the times, I suppose), they make their plans for revenge fairly quickly, and take things a lot farther than I would have expected. Of course, the novel wouldn’t have had as much adventure if they had returned immediately to camp as they discuss early on (a much more realistic and perfectly surprising attack, in my opinion), but they seem to go from returning to camp to living life on the lamb without a reasonable transition.

The characters are also only somewhat likeable. Obviously we are meant to sympathize with them, as they are the victims of a cruel prank, and certainly don’t deserve it, but the sympathy never really makes the connection to amiability, at least not for me. As for character development, Cole’s insistence on referring to the children throughout as “the boy” and “the girl” is a decision I’m not sure I agree with. On the one hand, it highlights the fact that the children do not know each other, even as they spend days together. It also demonstrates how character development can occur even without a name to put to the face. However, this anonymity is by no means as important as Cole seems to want it to be, and it hinders the reader’s ability to feel closer to the characters. If I were to teach The Goats, I could maybe use the characters almost namelessness as a jumping-off point for a “what’s in a name” conversation.

The narration also had a certain unlikable something to it for me. Somewhere between the specific details that the narrator picked out in descriptions and the overall journey that the two children took, I felt a certain mental or emotional exhaustion when reading this book. It’s possible that this was driven by the dread that I felt, wanting the two just to go back to camp where they were safe. The high point of this wariness came when they cautiously got into an unmarked car with no door handles on the passenger side, merely because the driver showed them a badge, before veering off onto a back road. Although it turned out that the driver was indeed a police officer, just acting strangely (what on earth was he thinking?!), the entire section just made me feel icky all over. Perhaps the story and narration was styled specifically to create this mental attitude, but I’m not certain that it was. Either way, story arc, tone, and personal connection and reaction to events are all topics that could be taught using The Goats as a text.

The other main theme that this book could definitely be used to teach is conflict. In the traditional “man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. self” format, the narrative tone and the thoughts of the characters create a clear “us vs. the world” conflict – even the adults, who are supposed to be the saving grace in this situation, are trying to separate them. Again, like so many of the books I apparently find myself drawn to, the issue of right vs. wrong comes up in The Goats, and could be teachable. Honestly, however, I think the emotional drain this book caused me, and could cause other readers, is likely to prevent me from using this book in the classroom if I have a good alternative.

Danny the Champion of the World – Roald Dahl

Although it seems perhaps targeted to slightly younger readers than I originally thought, I nonetheless really enjoyed this book. The plot, which seems to be a little recyclable in Roald Dahl’s books, is about a father who loves to poach pheasants from a rich landowner nearby, and the process of letting his son Danny in on this secret and letting him take a central role in the biggest heist in local history.

Perhaps one of the things that really stood out to me about this book – something that describes very few of the books I generally read – is that it is primarily a parenthood book. Through no conscious effort of my own, I have a lack of books dealing with the relationships between parents and children. This particular aspect of the book really appealed to me – maybe, it occurs to me, a little too much. The relationship between Danny and his father truly is heartwarming, but there were a few parts about this that were troubling to me. Firstly, William (the father) is narrated as a somewhat infallible character by Danny. However, there are several scenes where William either has a flare of anger, makes dangerous decisions on his son’s behalf, lies, steals (obviously), and breaks from the “perfect father” the narrator makes him out to be. Of course, this is more realistic than the alternative, but the narrator gives no hint to that. Secondly, the parenthood theme is taken perhaps a little too far in a few places. I noted one scene in which Danny described that he preferred to spend literally all of his time with his father, rather than spending time with friends from school. It’s one thing, and a good thing, to have a best friend for a father, but there is also an unaddressed element of this that inhibits social development. That was just a little thing I noted.

As for the writing and teachability of this book, I have mixed feelings. Like I said before, the writing seems targeted to a younger group than high school – maybe between 4^th and 8^th grade. It could definitely go beyond that point, but may be more subject to the “this is for little kiddies” mentality than alternative books. That being said, I really despise that mentality and think that youthfulness has no role as a limiting factor for good literature.

And this is definitely well-written. The character development is there – there is a slightly undeveloped sub-plot regarding Danny’s mother, but with Danny as a narrator it’s passable. The antagonist is perfectly despicable enough to warrant the father’s devotion to poaching his pheasants. This is made even more valid by the fact that the entire town is in on the poaching and pranking of Mr. Hazell. There are definitely some class issues in that relationship. And the voice! There are many voices in the book, which makes it a great resource for teaching that particular idea. From Danny’s adoring, youthful tone (Roald Dahl definitely knows children), to the comedic mispronunciations of the village policeman, to William’s mischievous, wise, concerned tone, the voices are a very teachable aspect of the book.

I think that if I were to teach this book, I would want to incorporate a writing section. The book is the account of a child’s experiences with a role model – something that teaches him a version of right versus wrong. While some may feel that the action of the novel is “wrong” – stealing, scheming, lying – it certainly draws attention to the fact that right and wrong are not necessarily universally understood. I would want students to pick an experience that has shaped their perceptions of what is good and what is bad, and ask them to write a story based on that theme.