Then another mass shooting happened here. Another one. Children and teachers.
The Russians have slaughtered hundreds of Ukrainian children.
We slaughter our own.
Then another mass shooting happened here. Another one. Children and teachers.
The Russians have slaughtered hundreds of Ukrainian children.
We slaughter our own.
It’s difficult to
find words to describe a Daniel Pinkwater book because they are a unique breed
that defies the usual literary terminology: they’re enchanting (often
literally), playful, spontaneous (as in combustion, upon occasion), and
hilarious-yet-insightful. In other words, a Daniel Pinkwater book provides the
occasion for parents wrestling the copy from their kids, and vice versa, so why
not avoid bloodshed, or paper-shred, and read them aloud together?
Mick’s ordinary life
comes to a screeching 180 degree turn when his older brother returns home from Tibet
with Guru Lumpo Smythe-Finkel and his dog, Lhasa, and Mick finds himself—how,
he’s never entirely clear—the guru’s new disciple. Guru, disciple, and magical
dog set off on a quest that’s as notable for its vagueness as its
unpredictability. They acquire fellow travelers, graffiti-fanatic Verne and Molly,
a Dwergish girl (sort of like leprechaun trolls with hidden goals, magical
powers, a gift for making friends, and a charmingly madcap sense of humor).
Soon they’re cavorting with a ghost whale who is the essence of love, as well
as other wacky and memorable characters.
Pinkwater’s in on a
great secret: if you want to communicate wisdom to young readers, first make them
smile. Or giggle. Or run wild in Poughkeepsie, as the case may be.
Tim Pratt writes a lot of very cool science fiction. From
his “Axiom” series (my gateway into his work) to The Doors of Sleep
(which I really, really hope will become an entire series, now that there’s a
sequel) to his “Twilight Imperium” novels. When I reviewed the first of these, The
Fractured Void, I had no idea that Twilight Imperium is a war-without-end
strategic game. I wrote, “Game tie-in novels are common these days, but not
those that are so well crafted as to stand on their own merits. I picked it up
because I loved Tim Pratt’s other science fiction novels (and after reading it
I still have no idea what Twilight Imperium is, nor do I particularly care as
long as Pratt turns out books as good as this one).” That’s even more true for The
Necropolis Empire. If you, like me, are so much Not a Gamer that you’re
into negative gamer-ness, just ignore that part and enjoy the book as a great
science fiction tale.
Standing on its own, The Necropolis Empire falls into
one of my favorite science fiction subgenres: spooky alien ruins. In this case,
very, very old alien ruins from a race we’re really glad has gone extinct. Now
if folks would just stop trying to resurrect their tech…
Our young heroine, Bianca, lives on one such world, a
pastoral culture built on top of the aforementioned, deeply buried alien tech.
Scavenged bits are useful, but mostly the farmers go about their lives…until a
ship from the imperialist Barony of Letnev arrives, annexes the planet, and
carries Bianca away with a rather incredulous story about her being a space
princess. Bianca falls for it, though. Not only is she adopted, but rather than
settle down with a nice neighbor boy, she has always yearned for something
beyond her own world. That something becomes clearer when she begins changing,
developing superhuman speed, strength, senses, healing, and more. The ruthless
Letnev believe she is the key to finding and controlling the ancient military
relics, which they mean to use to dominate all known space. Bianca has other
ideas.
I absolutely love how vulnerable and how competent Bianca
is. Her confidence in herself and her abilities stems from more than her new,
superhuman powers. As a child, she was wanted and cherished, never coddled but given
responsibilities. She grew up with permission to tackle all manner of
challenges, and she’s a genuinely nice person. The Letnev, not so much. They’ve
perfected arrogance to an art form.
I would be perfectly happy to see an entire series of “The Adventures of Bianca,” although I sadly fear the good folks who’ve created Twilight Imperium are more interested in promoting their game and not so much in a fascinating character who stands on her own.
How To Become a Planet features a youngster, creatively named Pluto, who struggles with depression. I reviewed it here.
How to Become a Planet focuses on Pluto as a sympathetic character, a person who is both resourceful and overwhelmed, insightful and confused by changes in herself. Her use of astronomy metaphors is particularly vivid and powerful. Above all, Pluto is a person whose brain chemistry isn’t working quite right, not a diagnosis, and this excellent novel showcases her journey toward a new balance in her life.
Here's what the author said about this character in a recent interview:
Q: How did you balance depicting the reality of living with mental illness with the important message of hope?A: Getting a diagnosis isn’t the end for Pluto—it’s a new beginning. I wanted to show that despite it feeling so hard, there is always hope. In the end, Pluto still has depression, she still has her struggles, but she has her support system and the understanding of her needs, and she’ll be okay.
I think this is spot on for adults as well as kids. Turning your life around takes not only appropriate treatment (including, in Pluto's case, medication as well as psychotherapy) but time and patience. Backsliding and reversals are par for the course, no matter how skillful the professional help and supportive the loving families are. There's no magic wand to make psychiatric problems disappear, although popular media often portray it so. One insightful conversation and poof! you're cured. This is one of many reasons why books like Melleby's are so important. There is hope, she says, so hang in there.
In Melleby's new novel, The Science of Being Angry, young Joey can't understand why she explodes into destructive fury. Like Pluto, she has a family that loves her and struggles to understand her, yet it isn't enough.
In my review of this book, I wrote:
What I most loved about this book was the respect with which Joey and her problems were portrayed. Joey is in many ways still a child, and for all her competence in many areas, she has a child’s limited resources for dealing with psychological issues that confound many adults. Her sense of responsibility often leads her to shoulder disproportionate blame, to withdraw rather than harm someone she loves, and to keep her pain to herself. She confronts an issue all of us face, regardless of how old we are: when do we ask for help, and when do we rely upon our own resources? In the end, Joey realizes that she cannot master her temper by herself, and—more importantly—that there is kindness, understanding, and help available to her.
Melleby doesn't condescend or simply. Her characters grapple with complex, often ambivalent emotions. Yet her faith in the resourcefulness of troubled young people, when given appropriate care, shines through. She reminds us,
There’s no one answer, there’s no one story for someone struggling with mental illness.
If this means there are many more Melleby MG novels to come, that's an excellent thing!
Eleven-year-old Joey lives in an unusual blended family. For
one thing, she and her two twin brothers have two moms, one of whom was married
before and has a son from that marriage. She and her brothers were the result
of IVF, and the boys are identical, having split from the same egg. For all the
nontraditional nature of this family, there’s a lot of love and acceptance. But
all is not well with Joey. She’s been having increasingly volatile episodes of
anger and acting-out. Her temper has become legendary at school, where she’s been
given the nickname, “Bruiser,” after she threw a soccer ball at a boy in gym
class so hard she bruised his collarbone. She’s roughly pushed away her best
friend, on whom she also has a crush. Now she’s left with the fallout wreckage
of what she’s done.
Despite the efforts of her moms to help her, Joey’s
outbursts are only getting worse. Finally, she melts down into a tantrum so
destructive, her family is evicted from their apartment and must move into a
motel, where close quarters fuel everyone’s irritation. Her moms start
bickering, and Joey thinks that’s her fault. Her older brother, who is trying
to focus on his academics, goes to live with his father, and of course, Joey
blames herself for that, too.
Joey can’t understand why she flies into a rage or how to
control it. All her best intentions are in vain. Then she gets the idea that
perhaps her temper is a genetic trait inherited from her biological father. If
she can just track him down, she thinks, she might better understand her own
volatility—and he might have found successful strategies for managing his
anger. With the help of her alienated best friend/crush, she embarks on a
genetics project for science class. And, of course, nothing goes the way Joey
expects.
In many ways, Joey is a typical adolescent, struggling with
the tensions between immaturity and independence. In others, though, she is
very much her own person with a unique family. I loved the way the unusual
marriage and relationships are presented in a matter-of-fact way. Joey’s anger is
clearly not caused by her having two lesbian mothers. Indeed, the clear love
and understanding between her mothers, the way each of them has found her way
to an authentic life, are one of Joey’s principal strengths. I also noted very
little along the lines of, “girls don’t have anger management issues,” when in
fact psychological research shows that girls experience anger as frequently as
boys do (but are socialized to suppress it).
What I most loved about this book was the respect with which
Joey and her problems were portrayed. Joey is in many ways still a child, and
for all her competence in many areas, she has a child’s limited resources for
dealing with psychological issues that confound many adults. Her sense of
responsibility often leads her to shoulder disproportionate blame, to withdraw
rather than harm someone she loves, and to keep her pain to herself. She
confronts an issue all of us face, regardless of how old we are: when do we ask
for help, and when do we rely upon our own resources? In the end, Joey realizes
that she cannot master her temper by herself, and—more importantly—that there
is kindness, understanding, and help available to her.
Highly recommended for adults as well as their adolescent
children.
This reminds me of the revelation I had while listening to
my Black friends about their experiences in a racist society. What I heard,
over and over again, was that the barrage of aggressions, large or micro, is
unrelenting. My friends don’t get a day off; the threat is always there to one
degree or another. I wonder how living in a state of heightened stress or in a
neighborhood that all too often resembles a war zone colors perceptions of a
war far away. (See comments on hypertension and stress in Black people, below.)
When the Ukrainian war first broke out, there was an
immediate outpouring of sympathy and calls for humanitarian aid as well as
military assistance. Americans called for easing immigration requirements for
Ukrainian refugees. A couple of friends pointed out the disparity in response
between the warmth and concern, and action, for Ukrainian victims, as opposed
to people of color in distress in other parts of the world: Central American
migrants at the border, Haitians, Asians, sub-Saharan Africans, and more. The
Conversation examined ways in which the inequitable treatment of those seeking
asylum in the United States is based on race and religion. They wrote:
On March 11, 2022, however, the Biden administration provided guidance allowing Customs and Border Protection officers to exempt Ukrainians from Title 42 on a case-by-case basis, which has allowed many families to enter. However, this exception has not been granted to other asylum seekers, no matter what danger they are in. It is possible that the administration may lift Title 42 at the end of May 2022, but that plan has encountered fierce debates.
The different treatment of Ukrainian versus Central American, African, Haitian and other asylum seekers has prompted criticism that the administration is enforcing immigration policies in racist ways, favoring white, European, mostly Christian refugees over other groups.
The uncomfortable truth is that white Americans are more welcoming
toward people who look like them, especially people whom they perceive as
innocent victims of violence. I would like to think that once hearts are opened
toward one group, common humanity will prevail and the same commitment to fairness
will be applied elsewhere, but I am not overly optimistic. The challenge of the
moment, or so it seems to me, is to find a balance between reminders that
Ukrainians are not the only people suffering from violence and oppression today
without descending to “whataboutism,” that is, dismissing the importance of one
case by pointing to others. (The classic humorous example being, “But her
emails…”)
I think there are ways of bringing up the (non-white) people
in need without downplaying the horrible situation in Ukraine. While
international aid funds may be finite, caring is not. Commitment to help is
not. What would that look like? Perhaps donating to organizations that provide
aid to countries around the world, not limited to Ukraine? Splitting
contributions between aid organizations? Pressuring our leaders for more just
policies, reminding them that just as immigrating Ukrainians need our help, many
others qualify for asylum?
Surely, there is enough love to go around.
————————-
There’s a correlation between stress, poverty, racism, and
ill health. Some studies have shown a relationship between experiences of
racism and hypertension in Black people, particularly young Black men1.
Stressors repeatedly occurring over time included the death of a family member
or close friend (65.2%), having a new family member (32.9%), change in
residence (31.4%), difficulty finding a job (24.3%), and fired or laid off from
work (17.6%). Involvement with crime or legal matters was reported at least
twice during the 48 months by 33.3% of men.2
1.
https://www.cdc.gov/bloodpressure/docs/african_american_sourcebook.pdf
2.
Hae-Ra Han, et al. Effects of stressful life events in
young black men with high blood pressure. Ethn Dis, Winter
2006;16(1):64-70
Shadows of Eternity, by Gregory Benford (Saga)
Gregory Benford is an accomplished, seasoned writer and as
usual, he offers a treasure trove of fascinating ideas. In this novel, set two
centuries from now, humans have set up a base on the Moon to house a SETI
library whose mission is to decipher and comprehend the many Messages received
from space. As Benford points out, the immense distances involved would almost
certainly mean that these civilizations are now long since extinct. So why
would they broadcast Messages for a future intelligent race to receive? As a
record for posterity, a boast of their prowess, a plea for help? What about the
alien AIs, who have aggressive agendas of their own? Fascinating possibilities
abound!
The story begins when Ruth, a trainee Librarian, is accepted
into the program, her work is to analyze Message texts and eventually converse
with the AIs. She finds her feet in the byzantine hierarchy of the library,
makes friends and discovers romance, and embarks on studying the Messages and
interacting with the alien AIs.
After Ruth’s initial integration into the Library culture
and her first few AI encounters, the book loses much of its forward momentum
and takes on an episodic quality. To be sure, there are occasional references
to earlier events—for example, a present-day alien race seeks her out because
of her role in deflecting an existential threat to Earth, a result of her
bargain with one of those AIs. I kept looking for a sense of rising tension,
the inexorable progression of one crisis building to an even greater one, and not
finding it.
Eventually, I gave up. The book is really long, and I kept
having the experience of beginning again. Information that is usually presented
near the beginning of a novel appeared a third or a half through. This circling
back to “Go” reminded me of television programs of the 1950s and early 1960s,
where episodes could be shown in any order because no matter what happened, all
the characters and pieces ended up right where they started. (In contrast,
programs of the 1970s and later tended to have story arcs that lasted several
episodes, and then Babylon 5 blew them all out of the water with a five
year story arc.) Upon reflection, if the book had been presented as, “These
are the ongoing adventures of Ruth, Librarian to Alien Cultures,” my expectations
would have been more in line with my experience.
All that said, Benford is a highly skilled writer, and many
readers will relish the length and slow build of this novel, as well as the
richness of the ideas.
The hypercarnivore may have hunted tapirs and tiny rhinos.
An unidentified fossil collected more than three decades ago was actually a mysterious species of saber-toothed carnivore that once stalked prey through the ancient rainforests of Southern California.
Hugh Wagner, a paleontologist at the San Diego Natural History Museum, later suggested that the jawbone might belong to a more mysterious group of hypercarnivores with scant representation in the fossil record: the machaeroidines. Remains of these strange beasts have been uncovered only at select sites in Asia and North America, and prior to the new study, only 14 specimens had ever been found, according to the PeerJ report. The now-extinct group includes the earliest known saber-toothed mammalian carnivores, which are not closely related to any living carnivores.
An anti-universe running backwards in time could explain dark matter and cosmic inflation.
A wild new theory suggests there may be another "anti-universe," running backward in time prior to the Big Bang.
The idea assumes that the early universe was small, hot and dense — and so uniform that time looks symmetric going backward and forward.
To preserve the CPT [charge, parity, time] symmetry throughout the cosmos, there must be a mirror-image cosmos that balances out our own. This cosmos would have all opposite charges than we have, be flipped in the mirror, and run backward in time. Our universe is just one of a twin. Taken together, the two universes obey CPT symmetry.[Click through to read the whole article; it's quite accessible to the non-physicist.]
The creature is probably a new species of basilosaurus, a ferocious ancestor of modern whales.
Researchers digging in Peru's Ocucaje desert have uncovered the skull of an enormous marine predator thought to be the ancestor of modern whales and dolphins.
Four feet long (1.2 meters) and lined with knife-like teeth, the skull appears to be a new species of Basilosaurus — a genus of ferocious marine mammals that lived some 36 million years ago during the Eocene epoch, researchers from the National University of San Marcos (UNMSM) in Lima told Reuters. From snout to tail, the creature probably measured about 39 feet (12 meters) long, or about the size of a city bus.
For now, researchers are calling this ancient beast the "Ocucaje Predator." It won't be formally named until the team publishes a scientific description of the species in a peer-reviewed journal.
When the meteor struck, temperatures on Earth’s surface skyrocketed. Many animals had nowhere to flee, but roaches could take shelter in tiny soil crevices, which provide excellent protection from heat.
The meteor’s impact triggered a cascade of effects. It kicked up so much dust that the sky darkened. As the sun dimmed, temperatures plunged and conditions became wintry around the globe. With little sunlight, surviving plants struggled to grow, and many other organisms that relied on those plants went hungry.
Not cockroaches, though. Unlike some insects that prefer to eat one specific plant, cockroaches are omnivorous scavengers. This means they will eat most foods that come from animals or plants as well as cardboard, some kinds of clothing and even poop. Having appetites that aren’t picky has allowed cockroaches to survive lean times since the Chicxulub extinction and other natural disasters.
Another helpful trait is that cockroaches lay their eggs in little protective cases. These egg cartons look like dried beans and are called oothecae, which means “egg cases.” Like phone cases, oothecae are hard and protect their contents from physical damage and other threats, such as flooding and drought. Some cockroaches may have waited out part of the Chicxulub catastrophe from the comfort of their oothecae.
The newfound cells help to maintain a healthy respiratory system.
Scientists have discovered a brand-new type of cell hiding inside the delicate, branching passageways of human lungs. The newfound cells play a vital role in keeping the respiratory system functioning properly and could even inspire new treatments to reverse the effects of certain smoking-related diseases, according to a new study.
The cells, known as respiratory airway secretory (RAS) cells, are found in tiny, branching passages known as bronchioles, which are tipped with alveoli, the teensy air sacs that exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide with the bloodstream. The new RAS cells are similar to stem cells — "blank canvas" cells that can differentiate into any other type of cell in the body — and are capable of repairing damaged alveoli cells and transforming into new ones.