Customer Reviews

Welcome to Lizard Motel: Children, Stories, and the Mystery of Making Things Up, A Memoir

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I confess that I began this book expecting a somewhat academic discussion of modern young-adult literature. Had I paid more attention to the cover I would have had a better idea what to expect. It's interesting, then, the extent to which this book does have academic chops; the myriad quotes and excerpts from assorted writers and psychologists are well documented at the back of the book.

But make no mistake; the book is a ultimately a series of personal observations on "problem" books as they relate to the reading experience of Ms. Feinberg and her children. The presentation is subtle; Feinberg does not have a bone to pick, and does not drown the reader in polemics. Rather, she presents numerous reflections on the value and purpose of books targeted at young people, gradually making a case against heavy-handed, message-laden "realism."

It is well-written, engaging, and thought-provoking. You do not have to be a parent (I am not) to enjoy this book, just someone interested in the intersection of art, culture, and cognitive development. If you *are* a parent, then it may also have tremendous practical value.

This fascinating book addresses two issues close to my heart: reading AND writing by kids. Long before my children were assigned "problem novels" to read, they were asked to conform to the writing system Feinberg criticizes, to write non-fiction "memoirs" and rewrite and edit them, starting in first grade. This was the entire focus of their writing experience in elementary school, and it was engineered by adults from beginning to end. The emphasis was entirely on the PRODUCT and certainly not on a playful, imaginative process. The result is that my two wonderfully imaginative kids despise "writing", and are convinced they can't "do it." I wish they could have been nurtured in the author's Story Shop instead. As for the problem novels, which for my older son began in earnest in 7th grade, he soon came to identify English class with unbearably depressing reading assignments, with very little relief for years to come. Feinberg correctly recognizes that while some of the books are very well written, more variety in assignments is in order. I am thrilled that she has finally challenged the status quo in such a beautifully written book.

This is a great book - witty, provocative, original, and quirky in the best way. I literally couldn't put it down. It's also going to draw a lot of ire (it already has) from many quarters. But as a parent, I whole-heartedly agree with Feinberg's observations about a range of educational issues. For anybody trying to raise literate, creative children, under constant assault from a culture which has lost the natural love of reading and writing, this book is a breath of fresh air.

Feinberg deserves praise for bringing forth the troubling emphasis that current curriculums intended for the adolescent age, have placed on the "problem novel". Yet she is not dogmatic enough in her important argument. Instead we are led off track in the 2nd half of the book on a self absorbed meandering with no clear cut themes... that ends up focusing on her daughter's need for several surgeries relating to ear infections. How did we get here?! To presume a connection between the 2 parts of this book, one would need to do as the subtitle suggests and truly "make things up". Nonetheless, the assertions in the 1rst half, as well as the footnotes, make those parts of the book quite a compelling read. Its worth the price of the book for the sake of those first arguments. Then save yourself time and confusion by skimming or avoiding entirely, the author's self indulgent off-topic stuff in the 2nd half.

Feinberg has written an extraordinary work that makes use of her literary and emotional gifts as well as her intellectual ones. The basic premise of this small, powerful book is that literature matters; stories that we read and stories we create have tremendous meaning, and the books we hand down to our children express our cultural and personal values. Feinberg sees fiction and metaphor as crucial to the healthy development of children through their pubescent years, and dislikes the current trend in the schools toward memoir writing and the reading of issue-oriented "problem novels." A superbly reasoned and elegant book.

What's wrong with what our children are reading in school? Barbara Feinberg knows & now I do too! Her observations are dead on. Her passion is accentuated by a sense of humor that makes the reading a pleasure.

I agree with most of the reviewers in that the question at the basis of Feinberg book is a good one - should young adult literature be so bleak in the context of their lives, environment and society?

While there are many answers I can only remember reading Pigman by Zindel (which is discussed at length in her book) and feeling that finally the thoughts I was having as an emerging adult were not unique. There were other people - the author in particular who obviously had had similar feelings and that to me was important.

I believe a certain amount of young adult fiction is written from this perspective and should not be categorized as doom and gloom but "if you have had these feelings you are not alone" which to me seems reasonable.

Feinberg laments the passing of milder books written prior to the 60's in which there were still mature themes but the resolutions were not so stark and violent. It is hard not to agree however her views tend to the nostalgic and whimsical side of the argument and in that lose a substantive part of what could have been a constructive dialogue.

I was taken most by her painfully clear memories of reading Dick and Jane from a singularly Jewish perspective of exclusion which really had nothing to do with Dick and Jane but rather to do with the culture of her family. That she still cannot dissociate herself from this early impression I found unsettling. Add to this her memories in her early daycare career of bringing in a person to speak about the Holocaust to one presumes children ages 3 and under is telling. It seems in no small part she is using this book to exculpate herself from these memories and the real or imaginary impacts they had on the children. But unfortunatley what too often happens with these 'confessions' is that which should be a vital dialogue becomes clouded and weakened by obvious personal compensation.

Feinberg loves the word 'lens'. So much so that I got tired of seeing it and wished she could have thought of some other word. I think however on reflection it is a good word for in the context of her memoir and work we can see her lens is too frought with issues beyond literature to really move this discussion in the direction it needs to go. And that is the shame and ultimate failure of this book which had so much potential.

I agree that Feinberg's writing is engaging, and the premise of her book is an important one. However, as a former teacher of talented and gifted middle school students and a university teacher of young adult literature, I believe the actual truth of the situation is much more complex. My university students and I discuss this very issue, because many of them also wonder why young adult books are so often grim and depressing. The truth is that these kinds of books didn't come into being because teachers love them; they arose because teenagers love them, and teachers began to love them because they are a way to get teenagers to read and discuss a book when they won't willingly discuss classics like The Old Man and the Sea and Tale of Two Cities. I mention those two titles deliberately, because they are frequently taught in high school, and they are grim and depressing. Yet no Feinberg has arisen to question whether students should read these classics because of their depressing nature.

Young adult books, starting with S. E. Hinton and Robert Cormier, began to be ultra realistic because YA writers started to have more respect for their audience. Teenagers must grapple with the same conflicts in their lives that adults grapple with. Furthermore, most teens are emotional themselves and love emotional books. I'd be willing to bet that Feinberg's 12 year old son will be more into realistic fiction in two or three years.

That said, I agree with Feinberg that teachers should give students more choices. Early in the young adult period, boys and girls rarely like the same books. If the real goal of a teacher is to get the kids reading more widely and fluently, then she should provide plenty of kinds of books for her students to choose from. There are lots of fantasies for the age group, not to mention science fiction, historical fiction, and humor. To read Feinberg, one would think that "teen-angst books," (our family name for grim realism) were the only books in middle and high school libraries, and I can assure folks that they are NOT the only books that win the prizes. For example, teachers often assign Richard Peck's two hilarious books A Long Way from Chicago and A Year Down Yonder, both of which are quite upbeat and also award winners.

I agree with Feinberg that no child, especially a middle school boy, should have to endure a steady diet of teen angst books, but teachers are not the culprit here for the most part. Teachers choose books they think most of their students will eagerly read, and since most teens love high drama, teachers tend to pick those books.

This book was a pleasure to read -- unlike the many 'problem novels' currently featured on young adult lists. Do kids really need to read such bleak tales of divorce, death, and despair? The engaging text takes us along the author's thought path as she considers these books, talks to her children, and remembers what the books of her childhood meant to her evolving into an adult. Don't be put off by the terrible title -- it's nonfiction, slice-of-life at its best. I'd like to hear more from this author.

As a children's author myself, I'm delighted to find someone suggesting in a popular book what many of us children's authors have long realized: Problem novels are not written or published for children at all, but for educators and librarians, without whom most of those books would never survive.

I would add that a surprising number of librarians dislike and disapprove of fantasy, and would love to wean children from imaginative works. As such, they are well-meaning but misguided opponents of childhood development, which depends on fantasy and imagination for proper unfoldment. This is the prejudice that kept The Wizard of Oz out of public libraries for decades.

What's more, the "reality" of these problem novels is collectively far from realistic. Authors have actually been advised NOT to write novels about families with both a mother and a father. Only broken families allowed!

Before reading this book, I was not familiar with the writing programs of Lucy Calkins, but I can only say I'm glad I never found myself in their clutches, or I might never have become an author.