<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770</id><updated>2011-07-07T15:53:56.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PNG-Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-2401432891384564942</id><published>2010-02-18T05:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T05:11:20.119-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mary Rogan Blog</title><content type='html'>Mary Rogan has a very distinct writing style. It is current with the use of pop culture, witty and gets the information across in a way that is easy to understand by way of clever analogies. Like all writers, she has some bias in her writing. The great thing Mary Rogan does however is not being overly forceful of her opinions. She also provides as many different sides to the story as possible. As a reader, you don’t feel like you are being pushed in a particular direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Mary Rogan uses pop culture references to give life to her pieces and make it easy for the reader to conceptualize what she means. For example, in her piece A Little Bird Told Me, she uses an abundance of familiar icons such as Planet of the Apes (to compare the apes ability to speak to Alex the parrot), a Nerf football (to describe the size of Alex) and the move Rain Man (to compare how Alex sounds like Dustin Hoffman). In The Greatest Scientist of Our Time, Rogan masterfully uses pop culture references in her analogies. She compares Penninger’s haircut with that of Sideshow Bob from The Simpson’s who happens to have ridiculous and instantly recognizable hair. She relates the work Penninger has done in medicine to that of a miracle like in the Wizard of Oz where Dorthy clicks her heels and says: “There’s no place like home”. In the same piece, she describes Gerrard and Jarvis as “Time Square before Giuliani turned it into Disney World,” which is fairly accurate. Mary Rogan’s use of pop culture not only makes her writing relevant but also easier to understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In terms of literary devices, Rogan uses crude examples of analogies and metaphors. Instead deep similes and metaphors, she describes Alex the parrot as a Nerf football. This subtle and sometimes crude humour is definitely part of her style. She is often very witty and blunt and isn’t afraid to use foul language. The way she describes Penninger when he was a child is great. “Josef’s four, playing out behind the barn. There’s a dung heap, a pile of cow shit, that he loves to sit in for hours by himself.” I love how she’s not afraid of describing him like that because you would think after calling him the “Greatest Scientist of Our Time,” she would omit such undesirable events. But she doesn’t and it’s funny. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In the piece about Alex, she treats Alex like a human by actually being afraid of him. “I perch on a gray recycling box and try not to meet his flitty, glassy eyes in cause that pisses him off.” I find it humour how she doesn’t want to “piss off” a parrot and I also noticed the “perch” pun which was kind of funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The sources Mary Rogan uses seems to comprise of mainly primary sources, she actually goes and talks to the sources. This is the case in all three pieces that I looked at. In the Penninger piece, she travels to Austria to talk with Seitel, Josef’s physics teacher. In the parrot piece, she drives to Boston to talk with Dr.Pepperberg. In Girl, Interrupted, Rogan talks with Aqsa’s closest friends Ebonie Mitchell and Ashley Garbutt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Rogan’s personal perspective is usually well hidden. It doesn’t feel like she is writing with the goal of persuading the reader to a certain viewpoint because she usually just states the facts without adding a personal opinion to the sentence. Although that is true for the majority of Rogan’s writing, there are instances where a little bias slips by. In the piece about Aqsa, Rogan poses the question: “Is it possible that Toronto has become too tolerant of cultural differences?” Even though that is a legitimate question, it does seem to be slightly weighted. In Rogan’s Penninger’s piece, it seems at times that she over credits him by stating really great things that he will do in the future. “When he wins the Nobel price for discovering God…” I know it’s meant as a joke but part of me believes it because it’s stated as fact. Overall, Mary is fairly unbiased throughout her work and only adds a pinch of personal perspective occasionally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-2401432891384564942?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/2401432891384564942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=2401432891384564942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2401432891384564942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2401432891384564942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2010/02/mary-rogan-blog.html' title='Mary Rogan Blog'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-5737546225836804800</id><published>2009-11-12T14:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T14:33:59.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bishop's Man</title><content type='html'>We find out that the Father is currently over 50, has no parents to speak of, and is a "dean" at a Catholic university. His father was presumably an American soldier during WWII and his mom was an Englishwoman. He seems to just do the bare minimum as a priest, it doesn't sound like his dream job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;...I had, nevertheless, achieved what I believed to be a sustainable spirituality and an ability to elaborate upon it with minimal cant and hypocrisy"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another important character described in the opening chapter is the Bishop. He seems to be wary of his duties and like Father MacAskill, not very enthusiastic. The Bishop has a sideboard full of whisky which is a good indication of his commitment to the Catholic faith. Also, he is described as wearing "...running shoes, cords and a cardigan." and his hair is disorderly, another indication he may not really care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linden MacIntyre uses direct speech to give more detail and character to his protagonist. As said before, Father MacAskill doesn't seem to want to be a priest very much. The following passage might indicate that he doesn't really know why he wanted to be a priest in the first place. I believe if your going to dedicate your life for God, you should have some unbreakable reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;“I think I want to be a priest,” I told him, heart pounding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He listened quietly, but in the manner of one who already knew far more than I was telling him. He was smiling, but the eyes were not encouraging. “Why would you want to be a priest?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I might need time to think before I answer,” I said carefully.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another passage which MacIntyre uses well to create mood and reveal character is the following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;“I don’t care what you think you saw.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bishop’s neck is pulsing, a purple swelling throbbing at the centre of his forehead, outraged roseola nose aglow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know what I saw.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You think you know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Our eyes play tricks.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We know nothing. We believe. We have faith. It is our only source of hope. But that isn’t the point. You had no goddamned business spying.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spying? I just stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I sent you there to help them out, not to snoop.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-5737546225836804800?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/5737546225836804800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=5737546225836804800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5737546225836804800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5737546225836804800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/11/bishops-man.html' title='The Bishop&apos;s Man'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-3842640342675074023</id><published>2009-10-15T19:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:07:53.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 10</title><content type='html'>For the last blog, I originally planned to write about the very last section, however, I feel like this is more interesting and shows more character. Mishna weird friend Marni (who always wears a long sleeve shirt) invites Mishna to stay at her house. Mishna accepts the invitation. However, prior to her previous thoughts about rich people, she finds that they have way worse problems and issues. Marni’s mom is an alcoholic while her dad openly mocks and yells at her. Mishna begins to understand why she is always so catatonic at school and is greatly perturbed by her friends problem. This shows how caring and naive she can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“…. That was until I was awoken in the middle of the night by Marni’s dad coming into her room, flipping on the light, and yelling at Marni about how he had to move her bike in order to park his car, which quickly escalated back into the earlier conversation about her lack of character. Marni was rattled again and went into her bathroom, while I put the pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. But then I had to pee and, think Marni was just smoking, thoughtlessly barged into her bathroom. I flung the door open to find Marni was not smoking. Marni was cutting herself. She was slumped over the title floor of her bathroom with an X-Acto knife making a series of short marks in her left forearm. I was too stunned to say anything, but I think my face said it all because Marni immediately got defensive and said, ‘It’s okay. I’m just relieving some stress.’ And from the looks of her arm, she wasn’t new to this form of pressure release… ‘I’m gonna stay. But you gotta give me the knife.’ She silently handed over the knife. ‘Don’t tell anyone.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this to be one of the most shocking parts in the book simply because I didn’t expect it. I can image Mishna’s face at finding her friend cutting herself, something she has no exposure to. As stated in previous chapters, Mishna grew to hate some of the kids at her school because she thought they didn’t have really problems. Later on in the book, she says she wishes they could just have money problems. One thing I like about this book is how Wolff can be cracking jokes on one page, and on the other have some serious heavy issues. I think because most of the book is light hearted, the dark parts are emphasized. However, the dark parts are quickly covered with funny moments so the overall mood of the novel isn’t too heavy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-3842640342675074023?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/3842640342675074023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=3842640342675074023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/3842640342675074023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/3842640342675074023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-10.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 10'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-7064500633740695915</id><published>2009-10-15T19:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:06:53.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 9</title><content type='html'>A few more months have past and Mishna is still swimming and doing very well at it. Problem is, things at home aren’t going very well. Her step mom Yvonne feels stressed because she is the sole provider of the family. Since this is towards the end of the novel, things are getting more serious although there are a few comical parts. This isn’t one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Three days later, I was woken up in the middle of the night. Yvonne stood over my bed leering angrily until the searing heat of her rage woke me… ‘Where is my shirt?’ Yvonne demanded. I stared at her blankly… ‘What?’ I asked. ‘My white shirt!’ Yvonne said. ‘Don’t act like you don’t know.’ ‘Mishna,’ Dad said. ‘Just tell her where the shirt is and we can all go to bed…’ ‘It’s not just the shirt!’ Yvonne said. ‘It’s your entitlement!’ You think you can just walk around here and get into anything you want. You have no respect for other people’s property…’ It was too much all coming at once. I started to cry again… I had no idea what this shirt was. I had never worn her shirt, but none of that made a difference. I was supposed to be wrong. ‘I’m sorry about your shirt,’ I cried. ‘You’re right, I stole it. I don’t know why I did it…’ ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘I care. I love you, Yvonne! I really love you so much.’ ‘You make it very hard for me to love you back,’ she said, the tears starting to roll down her face… ‘I’m sorry, Yvonne,’ I said, ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ I was apologizing for my father.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mishna is really a good person, she wants the best for the people around her and she wants to please everyone. This is one of the more tender moments in the book. This past paragraph was the last straw, she didn’t want to be yelled at, she didn’t want to be blamed for everything, she just wanted to be loved. On the next page, she ends up packing her things and moving into her mom’s apartment which makes this barrier between her and her father. A large chunk of the rest of the book is about her father trying to come to terms with her and them being father and daughter again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-7064500633740695915?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/7064500633740695915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=7064500633740695915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7064500633740695915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7064500633740695915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-9.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 9'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-9175983375417038423</id><published>2009-10-15T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:06:08.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 8</title><content type='html'>As stated in the previous blog, Mishna’s satanic acts changes her life. Once her father hears that she and her friends tried to summon the devil, he is outraged by her childish actions. To straighten her out and discipline her, he makes her join a basketball team. Unfortunately, Mishna has never played basketball before and is the only white person on the team. Both her and her father know the straightening-her-out was just an excuse to get her involved in sports, something her dad used to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“On my first day of practice, Dad and I walked into the gym where my teammates were messing around before practice. Underneath the hoop were five six-foot-tall blacks girls who must have had a ball in their hands as soon as they pried the tit out, and one five-foot-three point guard who must have shared the womb with a Spaulding regulation.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mishna is only playing basketball for her dad whom she just wants to please. Even though she has grown up in the hood and is used to being the only white kid in a group, it takes courage to try something you’ve never done especially when everyone else looks like they’ve done it all their life. Mishna plays on the team for a while but finally quits because she feels like she’s holding the team back (all of the players are trying to get basketball scholarships). From here, she tells here dad that she wants to play football so she can get a scholarship to a good school. Her dad tells her that she has to bulk up first and to try swimming. Turns out she’s a natural at it. Its because of her swimming she finally makes peace with her dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-9175983375417038423?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/9175983375417038423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=9175983375417038423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/9175983375417038423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/9175983375417038423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-8.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 8'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-418908799808012257</id><published>2009-10-15T19:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:04:52.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 7</title><content type='html'>As time passes, Mishna makes more and more friends at her rich school. Because of her circumstances, people feel badly for her and often invite her to their house so they can take care of the “poor kid”. Mishna of course can’t care less and loves going to people’s houses. Going to sleepovers gave her a break from her family. (Her father remarried to a 24 year old black women with 2 children, the eldest being four).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sleepovers were like minivactions for me. I got to step out of my family responsibilities and into my friends’ homes where I was catered to like a crippled person. Dad wasn’t in the habit of asking if he could make me something to eat, or if I wanted him to rent me something while he was at the video store. In fact, the last time I’d had Zwena over, he got her to clean the kitchen after I made dinner.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Mishna gets invited to a seventh-grade sleepover, she is disappointed when she finds out who’s house its at. A girl named Oksana whose mom is a chilled artist who makes interesting sculptures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The lure of Oksana’s was that she had the most lax parents of all my friends-when she was staying with her mom, the artist. By the way, her mom’s art was intricately hand-beaded penis sculptures. The whole of her house from top to bottom was beaded penises in various stages of construction. You couldn’t look and not see a beaded penis…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this didn’t make for a funny story, Mishna and her friends trying to summon the devil is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Marni was giving Eileen the world’s most boring tarot card reading and I was designing a city in my mind made out of toothpicks. That’s when Lilith had an idea. She closed her spell book and said in a really creepy voice, ‘Hey guys, let’s try to summon the devil.’ The air in the guesthouse changed, and suddenly the party came to life. ‘How do we do that?’ Marni asked. ‘I have a spell right here,’ Lilith said. ‘A conjuring spell’…  I was beyond skeptical about Lilith’s magic abilities, but after The Exorcist. Anything concerning the devil creeped me out… We got some chalk and candles and sauntered over to the church parking lot across the street… Lilith drew a pentagram on the pavement, and Oksana decorated the middle of the pentagram with one of her mom’s penis statues.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this part hilarious, I mean, what kid hasn’t tried summoning the devil? Maybe not as extreme as having a conjuring spell and decorating a pentagram with penises but I can somewhat relate. Its interesting stories like these that keep the reader interested. I’ll have to admit, I was reading pretty intensely to find out whether or not the spell worked (which it didn’t). However, this is a very key story because it sets a chain of events that change Mishna’s life for the better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-418908799808012257?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/418908799808012257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=418908799808012257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/418908799808012257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/418908799808012257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-7.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 7'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-1857683200317368484</id><published>2009-10-15T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:03:42.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 6</title><content type='html'>The story is filled with irony and an example of this is Mishna’s father’s sudden flow of income. As Mishna spends more time with her preppy friends, she begins to want more in life. Her father (after being divorced for a number of years)  beings to date a rich black women named Jackie who has a nerdy son. Mishna loves Jackie because she makes food and takes her skiing. At this point, the entire family is happy and doing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While at home, Mishna is told not to go into her dad’s office because he has delicate work in there. However, its Christmas and Mishna see’s Toy’s R Us bags and wants to see what she’s getting for Christmas. To her surprise, this is what she finds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I knew I had to be quick, and I past the washer and dryer to the pressboard door of the makeshift office that my dad spent so much time in. As I cracked open the door, I was immediately blinded by bright light. And when my eyes adjusted I saw that the floor of the ‘office’ was a forest of marijuana plants. Thirty or more marijuana plants in perfect rows with grow lights poised over them like it was time for their close-up… So that’s why Dad’s so happy and everything is taken care of, I thought. It wasn’t because Dad had gotten his shit together at all. He’d just gotten better at selling drugs. I thought about a series of items that had been around the house for as long as I could remember. The scale in Dad’s bedroom. The plastic baggies everywhere. The fact that we always had extra electronic equipment lying around that people had brought over… God, I felt so stupid. The anger welled up in my feet and worked its way up to my head, which I thought might pop off. And I started to cry. I stood there crying for a minute.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its really heartbreaking to see Mishna cry after she thinks that maybe things had just gotten better. This is another example of a serious and heavy event that adds to the plot and keeps the story interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-1857683200317368484?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/1857683200317368484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=1857683200317368484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/1857683200317368484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/1857683200317368484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-6.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 6'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-7400163145426302141</id><published>2009-10-15T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:10:03.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 5</title><content type='html'>Although the majority of the book is about Mishna and her unfortunate yet funny life, parts of it do deal with the fact that she’s poor. Mishna is given a scholarship to a “rich” school where all the students go away to London, Paris and Whistler during their vacations and complain how boring it is. They seem spoiled and complain about nothing (although we find out they do have problems later on) such as food. Being on a scholarship, Mishna gets a different coloured ticket at lunch which she feels badly about. She also feels pressured to conform to “rich people” ideas.  These next two paragraphs are about her wanting to eat the food but also wanting to fit in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When it was my turn, she would file through the perfect aqua-coloured tickets until she got to my ghetto peach-coloured ticket, while I used my body to hide our transaction from the rest of the kids… My special different-coloured ticket served as a reminder that the city thought I needed some extra parenting… It was such a torn in my side that I would actually skip lunch on days I wasn’t feeling strong enough to answer the question… ‘What’s up with the pink ticket?’ Once, in frustration, I told Catrina Calder it was because I was alleric to raisins, to which she responded, ‘Bummer… raisins are good.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Lilth was pushing her spaghetti with meat sauce around her plate like maybe it was poison. She took a few bites of the salad, which she deemed ‘edible’ so that she wouldn’t catch too much flack from the lady that scraped the food off our trays while reminding us about the drought in Ethiopia. While Violet just looked at the spaghetti and meat sauce and let out a long low sigh, Lilith speculated, ‘It’s gotta be horse.’… My turn. ‘I think maybe it’s just really bad beef.’ ‘Beef?’ Lilith said amazed that I was defending the meat… The truth was, I love my lunch and would have eaten two lunches if I could have… Yet, sitting there with my friends, I was agonizing over the fact that I would have to throw away some food no matter how much it killed me.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-7400163145426302141?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/7400163145426302141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=7400163145426302141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7400163145426302141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7400163145426302141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-5.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 5'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-5933177790155443101</id><published>2009-10-15T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:10:15.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 4</title><content type='html'>Not only are the events actually funny, its because Mishna’s father doesn’t take them serious. What we might be appalled by, he simply thinks is funny because he’s so used to that kind of behaviour. Mishna’s sister Anora got in “trouble” at school and how does her father punish her? By making her a sandwich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What’s going on?’ I asked. ‘What are you doing home?’ ‘Well,’ Dad said, licking the mayo knife, ‘I had to pick Anora up from school. She got in a little trouble today. No big deal.’ ‘How much trouble could she have gotten in?’ I asked. ‘She’s in kindergarten!’ ‘S’true,’ Dad said, handing Anora her sandwich and not giving me information. ‘So what’d she do?’… Dad readjusted his Kangol and said slowly, ‘She got caught smoking. But learned her lesson’… ‘How did Anora get a cigarette?’ I asked. ‘I got some big girls to give it to me.’ She bragged… God she was cool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it humours that when Mishna’s father find out his six year old daughter was caught smoking, he makes her a sandwich (the running gag in the novel is that Mishna is always hungry). Another theme of the novel is the sibling rivalry. Anora is cool and “down” and makes friends easily. Mishna is the smart one who isn’t really accepted by her father. Mishna is always trying to be more like her younger sister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-5933177790155443101?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/5933177790155443101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=5933177790155443101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5933177790155443101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5933177790155443101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-4.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 4'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-7777694909638159063</id><published>2009-10-15T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:09:05.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 3</title><content type='html'>The main tool the author uses to draw the reader in is humour. I’m Down does have it’s heavy issues and heartbreaking moments but overall, it is a comical book. The way in which events are described make it easy understand and laugh at. The language that is used also helps to communicate that Wolff is from the “Hood”. As such, her father enjoys games of dominos which he cheats at. This passage is about one of her fathers friends calling him out on his cheating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eldridge stood up and shook his finger, shouting, ‘Oh no, John! No way… Lil’ girl Wolff, you saw that shit! You had to-you’s right there… Even your girl saw it! Shame on you!’. My dad retorted, ‘Eldridge! You trippin!”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kind of language and slang make the scene more detailed and makes it easier to feel what it must have been like. This next passage describes what happens when Eldridge asks her if she saw her father cheat. He reminds her that Jesus is watching. It contains a fantastic humourous line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He lowered himself so he was looking into my eyes and said, ‘Jesus is watching.’ Dad glared at me across the table-he might as well have been sitting there actually opening a can of whoop-ass. It was Jesus or a can of whoop-ass… ‘I didn’t see anything’ I said. ‘See,’ my dad said to Eldridge. ‘You got nothing.’ Then he turned to me and said, ‘Mishna, why don’t you come up here, play this round.’ ‘Play dominos with you guys?’ I asked. ‘Well, you know how,’ he said, and pulled up a chair next to him, which was the coolest thing that had ever happened to me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last part plays into the theme of her trying to please and be accepted by her dad. She wants to be “down” which is what the book is about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-7777694909638159063?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/7777694909638159063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=7777694909638159063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7777694909638159063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7777694909638159063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-3.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 3'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-5854692186271122449</id><published>2009-10-07T09:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:10:32.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 2</title><content type='html'>Although the following paragraph may seem awful and cruel, its also funny because you can imagine Wolff’s innocence. The reason it works is because she’s good about her mistakes and takes them lightly and as learning experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the pages leading up to this passage, her father told her to go play with the neighbourhood kids while he finished his game of dominos. Mishna see’s a group of kids and asks if she can play with them. The leader of the group, “Nay-Nay” says that their playing with Barbie’s. Mishna doesn’t know what a Barbie is but runs to her house and grabs her favourite doll, Tommy the turtle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The neighbourhood kids were all standing in front of Latifa’s house fully into some sort of Barbie orgy. Hot, wild, Barbie-on-Barbie action, complete with sound effects like, ‘uh, uh, uh.’ And besides discovering lesbianism, I found that what I was holding could not have been further from a Barbie. ‘What’s that, whitey?’ Nay-Nay asked, point to my doll.&lt;br /&gt;‘Tommy,’ I said. ‘He’s a turtle.’&lt;br /&gt;‘You thought you could bring your broke-ass turtle down here to play Barbies?’&lt;br /&gt;I shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;And with that, Nay-Nay began cackling in a way that quickly caught on with the rest of the group. I just stood on the corner holding Tommy the Turtle as five black girls holding plastic white women laughed at my stupidity. I was desperate and argued, ‘Mine’s a Barbie doll, too… Its just a different kind of Barbie!’&lt;br /&gt;To which Latifa, a girl a year older than me, exclaimed, ‘That ain’t no Barbie doll! That’s something out of the Good-will goodie box!’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From an early age, Mishna learns that she has to stay on her feet and that other kids will take a shot if they get a chance. This idea is repeated throughout the book with many events and problems happening because she talked without thinking. This passage also makes reference to her family’s poverty which is paralleled in later chapters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-5854692186271122449?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/5854692186271122449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=5854692186271122449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5854692186271122449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5854692186271122449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-2.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 2'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-5052647834900130932</id><published>2009-10-07T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T19:11:14.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 1</title><content type='html'>I’m Down by Mishna Wolff is a comical memoir of  white girl living in an all black neighbourhood. Humor is a major tool used by Wolff to keep the reader interested as well as interesting storyline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I AM WHITE. My parents, both white. My sister had the same mother and father as me-all of us completely white… However, my dad, John Wolff, or as the guys in the neighbourhood called him, ‘Wolfy’, truly believed he was a black man. He strutted around with a short perm, a Cosby-esqe sweater, gold chains, and a Kangol,-telling jokes like Redd Foxx, and giving advice like Jesse Jackson. He walked like a black man, and he played sports like a black man. You couldn’t tell my father he was white. Believe me, I tried. It wasn’t an identity crisis; it’s who he was. He was from ‘the neighbourhood’-our neighbourhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a certain amount of tension that’s created throughout the novel, just because of the Wolff’s situation of being the only whites in an all black neighbourhood. It makes for a good story because its usually the opposite, one token black family in an all white neighbourhood. Normally, it would be a heavy issue but Wolff manages to make it funny and humourous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That was before school busing programs, when middle-class white people started moving out of the cities and into the suburbs, because, ‘you know’. My grandparents were too cheap to be racist. You don’t sell when the market is down. And as the neighbourhood got blacker-so did my dad. He was in high school when he started to help the Black Panthers with the breakfast program. He played sports and he made his friends. They were the brothers and he was cool.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-5052647834900130932?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/5052647834900130932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=5052647834900130932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5052647834900130932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/5052647834900130932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-down-memoir-blog-1.html' title='I’m Down (Memoir) Blog 1'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-2336293106500325048</id><published>2009-09-30T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T17:52:03.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>August Kleinzahler</title><content type='html'>This is a very interesting piece, not only because of the writing style but the humorous stories. August Kleinzahler does a great job of describing his unconventional (to say the least) childhood. The first line of the story is “It was the dog who raised me.” At first glance it seems like nonsense. However, as the story progresses, it starts to make sense and actually becomes funny. The dog Granny, killed two dogs, one of which was a Chihuahua. It might not sound funny but when put matter-of-factly is actually quite funny. Another reference is made to the dog when Kleinzahler states “it turned out that I looked like the dog.” Much of his humour works because it is said matter-of-factly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Throughout the piece he is ignored by his family, which is why he develops such a close relationship with the dog and later his nanny. His mother was too busy reading Shakespeare to care about him and his siblings where either making airplanes or learning Latin. Further more, he states that he was an accident and his mother didn’t even like him or want him. Instead, he was cared for by Czech nanny who couldn’t really speak English. Eventually he started developing a Czech nanny which his parents find creepy. Years later, he dated a Czech and thought of his nanny while he made love to her. Its so sick and twisted it becomes funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-2336293106500325048?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/2336293106500325048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=2336293106500325048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2336293106500325048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2336293106500325048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/09/august-kleinzahler.html' title='August Kleinzahler'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-2554360132796401464</id><published>2009-09-22T17:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T18:21:15.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Glass Castle</title><content type='html'>Glass Castle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The author Jeannette Walls does a great job of creating balance in the Glass Castle. She almost makes you pity her when tells of her impoverish upbringing but then manages to turn the tables and make her family seem noble, smart and loving. Her parents constantly remind her of their position but actually manage to turn it into a positive thing. She makes it seem like they have a very loving family even without material possessions. Her father explains why they are the lucky ones and not rich folk because they can’t fully appreciate nature and be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “Rich city folks, he’d say, lived in fancy apartments, but their air was so polluted they couldn’t even see the stars. We’d have to be out of our minds to want to trade places with any of them. ” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Walls creates this symbol and feeling of hope when she writes about how her Dad said she can get a star for Christmas. It can also be interpreted that even though the rich might have Christmas trees with a star at the top, she gets the real thing and she can keep it forever which is much more significant. It also shows how knowledgeable her father is about constellations. All this makes you root for her as she seems like the underdog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Walls’ choice of words helps add emotion and detail to her writing. The story about the rat is well written. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This rat was not just eating the sugar. He was bathing in it, wallowing in it, positively luxuriating in it, his flickering tail hanging over the side of the bowl, flinging sugar across the table.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Another passage with detailed writing is when she paints part of the house. I’m not sure if its because I painted a garage this summer but I can really imagine and go through the motions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Out on the porch, I opened the can and stirred the paint with a stick, blending in the oil that had risen to the surface until the paint, which was the colour of buttercups, had turned creamy. I dipped in a fat brush and spread the paint along the old clapboard siding in long, smooth strokes. It went on bright and glossy and looked even better than I had hoped.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-2554360132796401464?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/2554360132796401464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=2554360132796401464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2554360132796401464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2554360132796401464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/09/glass-castle.html' title='Glass Castle'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-8492560768851028008</id><published>2009-09-22T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T17:16:13.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Glass Castle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The author Jeannette Walls does a great job of creating balance in the Glass Castle. She almost makes you pity her when tells of her impoverish upbringing but then manages to turn the tables and make her family seem noble, smart and loving. Her parents constantly remind her of their position but actually manage to turn it into a positive thing. She makes it seem like they have a very loving family even without material possessions. Her father explains why they are the lucky ones and not rich folk because they can’t fully appreciate nature and be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “Rich city folks, he’d say, lived in fancy apartments, but their air was so polluted they couldn’t even see the stars. We’d have to be out of our minds to want to trade places with any of them. ” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Walls creates this symbol and feeling of hope when she writes about how her Dad said she can get a star for Christmas. It can also be interpreted that even though the rich might have Christmas trees with a star at the top, she gets the real thing and she can keep it forever which is much more significant. It also shows how knowledgeable her father is about constellations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-8492560768851028008?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/8492560768851028008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=8492560768851028008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/8492560768851028008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/8492560768851028008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/09/glass-castle-author-jeannette-walls.html' title=''/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-7246363342589599153</id><published>2009-04-28T16:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T18:25:54.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog 7, TETRIS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Tetris is a puzzle game first designed by Alexey Pajinov  in 1985. It has had numerous publishers and is supported on various game consoles and computers.  The premise is very simple. There are four shapes each made of four blocks which fall one by one from the top of the screen. The player must fit each falling piece to form a full horizontal line and repeat as long as possible. Once a full horizontal line is made, it disappears. Points are award for each line made as well as combos which involves two/more lines cleared at a time. If five lines are cleared, a TETRIS is awarded. After ten lines are cleared, a level is accomplished at which time, the pieces drop faster. There is a level limit of 20.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Although the game is very simple and may seem dry and boring at first glance, it is very addicting. Gamers who play Tetris for extended periods of time can experience what is called the "Tetris Effect". This means that they can visualize Tetris games without actually playing or seeing it. The only thing aside from the pure awesomeness of the game itself that keeps me playing is my desire to place in the top 10 of the Tetris high-score. I was once ranked 20th but after not playing for so long, have been bumped down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There is nothing i would change about Tetris. I love the visual displays, the amazing music and the simplicity. I'm a Tetris fiend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-7246363342589599153?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/7246363342589599153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=7246363342589599153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7246363342589599153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/7246363342589599153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-7-tetris.html' title='Blog 7, TETRIS'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-4945001735615142296</id><published>2009-03-05T08:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T09:07:29.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Black History Blog, On Beauty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;An element in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Zadie Smith's&lt;/span&gt; novel &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;On Beauty&lt;/span&gt; that I really enjoyed was the detailing of the family's relationship.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jerome sat in the front seat next to the taxi-driver because the trip was Jerome's treat and Jerome's idea; Levi, Zora and Kiki were in the second row of this people-carrier, and Howard lay flat on his back with a row to himself... It was a classic family outing, proposed at the moment when all the members of the family had never felt less familial." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;(pg.60)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Kiki held her temper, waiting for the two to think of someone other than themselves. When this didn't happen, she exploded. They were only just recovering from the family row that ensue. The sulking and door slamming would have continued indefinitely had not Jerome - ever the peacemaker - thought up this trip as an opportunity for everybody to be nice to each other.&lt;/span&gt;" (pg.61) Because the story is about family relations, I thought it was appropriate to have good detailing when describing the family events.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The book is about an interracial family with a black mother and white father and their children. With relevance to Black History month, it describes the different lifestyle that arises in an interracial marriage. The following passage is a conversation between the father (Howard) and his youngest son (Levi) who is in his teens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Are you going to work  today? They let you wear it at the wotsit, the record shop? Sure, sure... Its not a record shop -  I keep telling you - it's a mega-store. There's like seven floors. You make me laugh, man, said Levi quietly, his lips buzzing Howard's skin through his shirt. Levi pulled back now from his father, patting him down like a bouncer. So you going now or what? What you gonna say to J? Who you flyin' wid?&lt;/span&gt;" (pg.22)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Here they all were, Howard's imaginary class. Howard indulged in a quick visual catalogue of their interesting bits, knowing that this would very likely be the lat time he saw them. The punk boy with black-painted fingernails, the Indian girl with the disproportionate eyes of a Disney character, another girl who looked no older than fourteen with a railroad on her teeth.&lt;/span&gt;" (pg.154) I liked the detail in this passage because one can imagine exactly what Howard must be seeing in his imaginary class.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Another passage that I liked describes those Kodak moment baby pictures because it describes it exactly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The children come first in black and white: podgy and dimpled, haloed with curls. They seem always to be tumbling towards the view and over each other, folding on their sausage legs.&lt;/span&gt;" (pg.17)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-4945001735615142296?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/4945001735615142296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=4945001735615142296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/4945001735615142296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/4945001735615142296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/03/black-history-blog-on-beauty.html' title='Black History Blog, On Beauty'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-3100121065286420390</id><published>2009-01-26T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T19:09:15.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obama's Inaugural Address</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;President Obama did an amazing job during his inaugural address with regards to both his speaking skills and content. Throughout the speech, he familiarizes himself with the audience by using words like "fellow citizens" and "we". This creates a connection with him and the viewer. While performing the speech, he was passionate, humble and calm. The one passage that sticks with me is the following:&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you." &lt;/span&gt; The last line especially sent a wave of inspiration through me as I heard it. For me, that was the most passionate part of the entire address.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In terms of content, he began with the negative situations concerning the US and then explained the ways in which he will combat them. The main examples of tough situations were the economy, climate change and terrorism. He relates the past few years as tough times were America has suffered.  However, he gives hope by saying : "Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America." Obama then goes on to list the things that will "remake" America such as creating jobs and laying a foundation for growth, using science to improve healthcare and using solar and wind power to fuel America's industries.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He also takes a step into unchartered territory when he says: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect." &lt;/span&gt;He also states that they will forgive any wrongdoings if those peace-disturbers will &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"unclench their fist". &lt;/span&gt;He also extends his help to third-world and developing countries. It seems like Obama is looking to better America's image by sending out help and aid instead of war and terror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;All in all, from his passionate presentation to his hope-filled ideas, President Obama gave an unforgettable, fantastic speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-3100121065286420390?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/3100121065286420390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=3100121065286420390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/3100121065286420390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/3100121065286420390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/01/obamas-inaugural-address.html' title='Obama&apos;s Inaugural Address'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-747864582407136711</id><published>2009-01-22T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:41:43.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Retreat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;A great thing about that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David Bergen&lt;/span&gt; did in his novel &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Retreat&lt;/span&gt; was the detailing with regards to the characters and emotions. The detailing of the characters  helped to give the reader a visual understanding of what they could look like. "Still, the management wanted Lisa Kennedy happy, and she was happiest with Raymond at her side. She golfed alone. This morning she wore a pink pleated skirt that fell to her knees and a white short-sleeved blouse. A white sweater with the arms tied around her waist. " (Pg.7)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Another example of good physical detailing in the novel is "She'd written something about her mother, about the bone-coloured dress her mother liked to wear, and the buttons that were like tiny bones themselves, and about the shape of her mother's bones within the dress. And the bone of her mother's wrist cracking as she fell down the stairs." (Pg.104)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The author also does a great job of giving the characters traits as seen with Earl Hart, who's racist beliefs almost kill Raymond (the main character) in the beginning of the book. I thought the detailing was great in this passage because it 1) indicates/foreshadows that Hart is a cold man and 2) because it helps the reader understand what his laugh sounded like and gives him an ominous feeling. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"He chuckled, but it wasn't truly a laugh, more the simulacrum of a laugh, as if he had spent much time as an unhappy man leaning how to imitate happiness." (Pg.5)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The author adds more information and traits as the story progresses which is very effective because the reader is reminded just how evil he is. "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Uncle Earl?' She pulled away from Raymond and stepped towards the police car... He reached out and touched Alice, as if laying some sort of claim on her. He didn't look at Raymond... Hart opened the cruiser's rear door and motioned at Raymond, who said he didn't need a ride. 'Nobody's asking.' " (Pg.18-19)&lt;/span&gt; I was drawn to this passage because suspense slowly builds up. Once the reader finds out its Hart, they know its trouble. This makes the reader worry about what will happen to Raymond and keeps them reading.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Questions for the author:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) A major theme in the beginning of the novel is hatred and racism. Have you ever dealt with or witnessed such issues?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) Are there any specific authors that inspired you to become a writer?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.) Any new projects coming up soon?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-747864582407136711?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/747864582407136711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=747864582407136711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/747864582407136711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/747864582407136711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2009/01/retreat.html' title='The Retreat'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-639228094623198381</id><published>2008-12-03T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T08:19:22.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog 3, Amsterdam</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Dear Mr McEwan, I loved your novel Amsterdam, everything  from the suspenseful and thrilling to the sad parts. It had great sections where the characters would contrast each other which made each new piece of information all the more unexpected. Also, because of the contrasting, it created some suspense which kept the reader focused and eager to read more. I felt the character's emotions, details and traits were excellent as well their actions and the environment around them. I especially loved the unexpected and somewhat sad ending.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;" 'My idea is to publish next. What do you think?' Clive tilted back on his chair and clasped his hands behind his head.  'I think,' he said carefully, 'I think your staff is right. Its a really terrible idea.' 'Meaning?' 'It'll ruin him.' 'Dead right it will'  'I mean, personally' "(Pg.72) .  I think this passage is a great example of the excellent contrasting of characters. On one side you have Vernon, quick to act on his impulses and distain and on the other, you have Clive, controlled even when faced with an opportunity to dispose of a common "enemy". This passage created tension between the friends which is the basis of the ending. The argument started off a chain of events that eventually got these two friends to poison each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Because of the heaviness of the plot, there were some places in the story where the tension was relieved such as when Clive goes to relax and get inspiration at the Lake District "Outside the hotel, set against a rough stone wall, was a long wooden bench. In the morning, after breakfast, Clive sat here to lace his boots. Although he was missing the key element of his finale, he had two important advantages in his search.  The first was general: he felt optimistic..." (Pg.76)  Passages such as the one above were subtle enough that they did not take away from the seriousness or distract the reader but offered a break from the constant drama. Also, the characters themselves are often at peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I found the end of the book to be the best part because the entire book builds up pressure from the beginning and then finally blows at the end.  First, we learned that Clive and Vernon were best friends who always looked out for each other. Then, trouble brews and the former best friends are split apart by conflicting views. Tensions continue to rise until the two decide to poison each other. Although the two main characters died, it seemed like they are actually going free from whatever pain life plagued them. The descriptions of them at the suicide assistance centre was great because you didn't know exactly what was going on until they had died and because they seemed at peace. " 'My arm's so hot,' Clive whispered. 'Poor Clive. That's why I'm rolling your sleeve up, silly... From the perspective of the Dutch doctor and nurse, the composer lifted his head and, before closing his eyes, seemed to attempt, from his pillow, the most modest of bows. " (Pg.168-169) Once again, great story, I loved every bit of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Yours Truly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Peter Ng&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-639228094623198381?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/639228094623198381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=639228094623198381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/639228094623198381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/639228094623198381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-3-amsterdam.html' title='Blog 3, Amsterdam'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-6664781305565821711</id><published>2008-10-26T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T14:34:21.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Stop Sunnyside-Pat Capponi</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;1.)&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main character in the story is Dana Leoni, a middle-aged women with a lot of baggage. As a graduate student at University of Toronto, she was assaulted going home one day a few feet from her home. After that traumatic experience, she was admitted to various recovery centres, both physical and mental. However, she never fully recovered mentally; always feeling alone, scared, and vulnerable. To make matters worse, the police were never able to find the criminal.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;To cope with this, Dana moved out of her stable, "safe" life in the Annex and into an uncertain, somewhat dangerous life in Parkdale. She moved around from various rooming houses until she found comfort at Delta Court. Dana and her neighbourhood  friends: Miss Semple (an elderly lady), Gerry (a de-institutionalized mental patient, also very obese), Diamond (a former medical student at University of Toronto),  Michael (a former street kid) and Maryanne (murdered at the beginning of the story) all make the best of life, forming a tight relationship, a family so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;However, when police reports indicate that Maryanne had been killed, its up to Dana and her friends to find the person who murdered her. Dana, takes on the responsibility of gathering the crew and carrying out most of the dangerous, undercover work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;For most of the novel, the reader is kept in suspense, wondering what is going on. The author does a great job of providing just enough clues to let the reader know what is unfolding. Dana and the crew are trying to figure out how their friend Maryanne was killed so they can let her go knowing what happened. They  find out later that women from the neighbourhood had also gone missing under mysterious circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ed, a detective working on the case informs Dana that they have to close the case as a suicide because of insufficient evidence. Dana and her friends know that Maryanne would never hurt herself and that someone must have murdered her. The only lead they get is a name and an address of the landlord of the last house she stayed in. Stephan Mallick.  Now that they have a name and address, they begin to spy on the house, trying to figure out what goes on in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After a few days of spying on the house, they know for certain something is up. Only three men go in, and they take shifts, coming in at routine times throughout the day and night. After this piece of evidence, we know that Mallick is the one behind Maryanne's death. The rest of the story is about Dana getting into the house, freeing the women and getting enough evidence to send Mallick to jail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm very aware how much better off I am than most people here. I make a living, of sorts, with words portraits of the neighbourhood and its inhabitants that the local alternative weekly publishes when advertising permits. Between that, and the occasional shift at the drop in for the "socially isolated" where I'm headed, I manage to feed and clothe myself." (pg.11)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Because the story is based in Toronto, I can really relate to the poverty experienced by Dana. Also, coincidently, relating to the theme of gratitude, this piece of writing reminds me how important it is to be grateful for what we have, even if it is only enough to feed and clothe ourselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Parents. Both doctors. Expected me to be one too. There's no excuse for failure. I heard that all my life" - Diamond&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"High expectations can be as bad as no expectations." - Dana (pg.53)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Especially with high school being increasingly difficult, I can relate to the dangers of high expectations. This passage is a very good example of pressure pushing someone over the edge. I especially like it when Dana says "High expectations can be as bas as no expectations." This makes a very good point of where to draw the line between having no pressure, or overwhelming pressure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The walls of my room are a garnish yellowy orange, the landlord probably bought the paint at a serious discount, and they bulge in places where plaster repairs were never sanded flat, but I like the odd shape of the room. It has the feel of an attic space, with a sloped ceiling and two windows, each with four tiny, cracked and milky squares of glass, staring out into King Street West. " (pg.5)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- This quote is from the beginning of the story when Dana is introducing us to her room. I found that I was really able to get good description of the room, but also the emotion. The odd shape and bulges in the room reflect Dana's colourful life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-6664781305565821711?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/6664781305565821711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=6664781305565821711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/6664781305565821711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/6664781305565821711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2008/10/last-stop-sunnyside-pat-capponi.html' title='Last Stop Sunnyside-Pat Capponi'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4410912691929132770.post-2662697299447136172</id><published>2008-09-22T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T14:20:49.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Umbrella Man And Other Stories-Roald Dahl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Great Automatic Grammatizator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- The main character Adolph Knipe is an engineer, employed to build a great automatic computing engine by Mr. Bohlen. After the success of the computing machine, Knipe is told to take a vacation. However, Knipe dreams of building a machine to create stories and novels. He spends his "vacation" designing the machine and after much reluctance, Mr. Bohlen agrees to finance the project. The machine is a success and Knipe "buys" out all the competition. At the end of the story, it becomes clear that a t least one half of the books published this were produced by the machine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- An interesting element in the story is the perspective from which it is written. It is narrated from another writer, one who is now in poverty, being forced to choose whether to accept the "golden" contract across his desk or let his children starve.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-  "... Today, as the secret spreads, many more are hurrying to tie with Mr. Knipe. And al the time the screw turns tighter for those who hesitate t sign their names. This very moment, as I sit here listening to the howling of my nine starving children in the other room, I can feel my own hand creeping closer and closer to that golden contract that lies over on the other side of the desk. Give us strength, Oh Lord to let our children starve."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  -  This quote not only relates to the story but life today. Everyone is being forced to conform and amalgamate into monster corporations/cliques and it seems like we don't have a choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Butler:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-  The story is about a butler named Tibbs. His employer, George Cleaver is a nasty man who wishes to climb the social ladder. However, his dinner parties never have any spark. One day, Tibbs suggests serving superb wine. Cleaver sends Tibbs to find the greatest wines in the world. Tibbs, manages to get ahold of some great wines but the parties are still lifeless. One day, Tibbs suggests that he instruct the chef (Monsieur Estragon) to stop putting vinegar in the salad dressing because vinegar is the enemy of wine. Cleaver than mocks the butler at the next dinner party saying that Tibbs said he can't taste his wine if he has a little vinegar with the salad dressing. However, the tables turn when Tibbs reveals that he has served him the same cheap wine he always had and that he and Monsieur Estragon had the expensive wine themselves. With that, they promptly quit and drive away in a small car they own together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Although George Cleaver is the millionaire and powerful one, his vocabulary is quite low class and rude. He uses words like "Hogwash, Flippin" and bad grammar in general. This creates a stronger bond with the butler whose manners and language make him seem like the more "upperclass" and better man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-  "The wine you are drinking sir... happens to be that cheap and rather odious Spanish red..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  -  At this point, Cleaver had just mocked the butler. After hearing Mr. Cleaver brag about how much he knows about wine, it felt like he really  got is comeuppance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Landlady:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-  This is perhaps the creepiest short story in the book. It is about a young man named Billy Weaver who travels to another town on a business meeting. His train arrives late at night and he passes by sign that said "Bed and Breakfast". He is immediately drawn  to the building and peers through the windows and sees that it is a lovely charming place. He is about to look at another hotel when he has a strange and sudden urge to knock on the door. At once, a lady comes to the door and welcomes him in. She tells him that his room is ready and he can't seem to refuse. The only thing she asks is he should sign the guest book. After washing up, he goes downstairs to sign it. There are only two entries before him, the first being three years old. The name seems to ring a bell and when he asks her if he was in the news, he denies it. In fact, she tells Billy that both guests have never left and that they are still here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Right from the beginning, you know there is something wrong. As the story continues, things becomes more and more suspenseful which keeps the reader glued to the page. A very good technique that Roald Dahl uses in when Billy starts to recall the first guest's name in the paper. " Wait just a minute. Mulholland... Christopher Mullholland... wasn't that the name of the Eton school boy who was on a walking tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden..."  "Milk?" As you can see, Billy is just a few words away from revealing what happened to the other guests but is interrupted. He almost has it but is deterred by the creepy lady.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- "Excuse my asking, but haven't there been any other guests here except them in the last two or three years?... No, my dear, she said. Only you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  -  At this point, its clear that something fishy is going on, something almost magical. The last sentence almost sends a chill down your spine because the reader feels like the young man is finished, already under some strange spell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4410912691929132770-2662697299447136172?l=png-english.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/feeds/2662697299447136172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4410912691929132770&amp;postID=2662697299447136172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2662697299447136172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4410912691929132770/posts/default/2662697299447136172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://png-english.blogspot.com/2008/09/umbrella-man-and-other-stories-roald_22.html' title='The Umbrella Man And Other Stories-Roald Dahl'/><author><name>Peter Ng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01850018953010388064</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
