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John William Tuohy lives in Washington DC

The Texas Foster Care System is so awful, a jury decided not allow CPS to have custody of 6-year-old boy.




With a span of 18 months, a 6-year-old boy has been in the custody of Child Protective Services had been promised four times that he's getting adopted. He never got adopted. Things fall apart…but kids, especially desperate 6-year-old kids….don’t under understand what that means.
Two years before that, the same boy was sexually abused in the foster care system with no charges against the 14-year-old who abused him and now the boy's mental state has deteriorated to the point that he needs to be hospitalized….and just to add to their complete incompetence, the Texas CPS put the child on psychotropic drugs.
So a lawyer sued the CPS on the boys behalf and a jury decided that the child would be better off out of the states care. (Let that sink in for a moment) CPS then asked the judge to follow the jury's wishes to terminate the mother's parental rights and ignore the rest of the jury’s decision.
What will happen to the boys after this remains to be seen.


This week’s death in the world of foster care




Nevaeh Gerrior, a 5-year-old foster child in Fall River Mass. died in a foster home in December of 2018.  A criminal investigation is underway into the death. She and her younger brother had been placed in the home in early 2018. There aren’t many details in the case except that the Easthampton Police Department said “prolonged, length lifesaving efforts were rendered” Sources say that there were adults living in the house who may not have undergone background checks.

And now a word from F. Scott


Run!


Art


TO PRACTICE ANY ART, NO MATTER HOW WELL OR BADLY, IS A WAY TO MAKE YOUR SOUL GROW. SO DO IT.




Franny and Zooey


He let his attention be drawn to a little scene that was being acted out sublimely, unhampered by writers and directors and producers, five stories below the window and across the street.
A fair-sized maple tree stood in front of the girls’ private school-one of four or five trees on that fortunate side of the street-and at the moment a child of seven or eight, female, was hiding behind it. She was wearing a navy-blue reefer and a tam that was very nearly the same shade of red as the blanket on the bed in van Gogh’s room at Aries. Her tam did, in fact, from Zooey’s vantage point, appear not unlike a dab of paint. Some fifteen feet away from the child, her dog-a young dachshund, wearing a green leather collar and leash-was sniffing to find her, scurrying in frantic circles, his leash dragging behind him.
The anguish of separation was scarcely bearable for him, and when at last he picked up his mistress’s scent, it wasn’t a second too soon. The joy of reunion, for both, was immense. The dachshund gave a little yelp, then cringed forward, shimmying with ecstasy, till his mistress, shouting something at him, stepped hurriedly over the wire guard surrounding the tree and picked him up. She said a number of words of praise to him, in the private argot of the game, then put him down and picked up his leash, and the two walked gaily west, toward Fifth Avenue and the Park and out of Zooey’s sight.
Zooey reflexively put his hand on a crosspiece between panes of glass, as if he had a mind to raise the window and lean out of it to watch the two disappear. It was his cigar hand, however, and he hesitated a second too long. He dragged on his cigar.
“God damn it,” he said, “there are nice things in the world-and I mean nice things. We’re all such morons to get so sidetracked.

J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey





J.R.R. Tolkien once stole a city bus


While attending Oxford, J.R.R. Tolkien once stole a city bus and took his friends on a joy ride.



Carrie


Stephen King’s 1974 novel, Carrie, was rejected by 30 publishers before Doubleday bought it and paid him a $2,500 advance. The hardcover sold only 13,000 copies, but Signet bought the paperback rights for $400,000, finally allowing King to quit teaching and become a full-time writer.




Ransack


Ransack carries the image of a house being roughly disarranged, as might happen when you are frantically searching for something. This is appropriate given the word's origin. Ransack derives, via Middle English ransaken, from Old Norse rannsaka; the rann in rannsaka means "house." The second half of rannsaka is related to an Old English word, sēcan, meaning "to seek." But our modern use of the word isn't restricted to houses. You can ransack a drawer, a suitcase, or even the contents of a book (for information). A now-obsolete frequentative form of ransack, ransackle, gave us our adjective ramshackle.



Libraries are fighting to preserve your right to borrow e-books




Libraries are fighting to preserve your right to borrow e-books
By Jessamyn West

Jessamyn West (@jessamyn) is a librarian who lives in central Vermont. She is on the board of the Vermont Humanities Council. The views expressed here are hers. Read more opinion on CNN.

(CNN)Librarians to publishers: Please take our money. Publishers to librarians: Drop dead.
That's the upshot of Macmillan publishing's recent decision which represents yet another insult to libraries. For the first two months after a Macmillan book is published, a library can only buy one copy, at a discount. After eight weeks, they can purchase "expiring" e-book copies which need to be re-purchased after two years or 52 lends. As publishers struggle with the continuing shake-up of their business models, and work to find practical approaches to managing digital content in a marketplace overwhelmingly dominated by Amazon, libraries are being portrayed as a problem, not a solution. Libraries agree there's a problem -- but we know it's not us.
Public libraries in the United States purchase a lot of e-books, and circulate e-books a lot. According to the Public Library Association, electronic material circulation in libraries has been expanding at a rate of 30% per year; and public libraries offered over 391 million e-books to their patrons in 2017. Those library users also buy books; over 60% of frequent library users have also bought a book written by an author they first discovered in a library, according to Pew. Libraries offer free display space for books in over 16,000 locations nationwide. Even Macmillan admitsthat "Library reads are currently 45% of our total digital book reads." But instead of finding a way to work with libraries on an equitable win-win solution, Macmillan implemented a new and confusing model and blamed libraries for being successful at encouraging people to read their books.
 Libraries don't just pay full price for e-books -- we pay more than full price. We don't just buy one book -- in most cases, we buy a lot of books, trying to keep hold lists down to reasonable numbers. We accept renewable purchasing agreements and limits on e-book lending, specifically because we understand that publishing is a business, and that there is value in authors and publishers getting paid for their work. At the same time, most of us are constrained by budgeting rules and high levels of reporting transparency about where your money goes. So, we want the terms to be fair, and we'd prefer a system that wasn't convoluted.
With print materials, book economics are simple. Once a library buys a book, it can do whatever it wants with it: lend it, sell it, give it away, loan it to another library so they can lend it. We're much more restricted when it comes to e-books. To a patron, an e-book and a print book feel like similar things, just in different formats; to a library they're very different products. There's no inter-library loan for e-books. When an e-book is no longer circulating, we can't sell it at a book sale. When you're spending the public's money, these differences matter.
Library users know that you can make a copy of a digital file essentially for free. So when we tell them, "Sorry, there is only one copy of that e-book, and a waitlist of over 200 people," they ask the completely reasonable question, "Why?" In Macmillan's ideal world, that library patron would get frustrated with the library and go purchase the e-book instead. And maybe some people will do that. In the library's ideal world, we'd be able to buy more copies of the book, and even agree to short-term contracts, if it meant that more people had access to the books they wanted to read, when they wanted to read them. This was not an option on the table.
Macmillan did not at all enjoy it when Amazon removed the "Buy" button from their titles, and yet this is what they are trying to do to libraries.
Macmillan, complaining that libraries were "cannibalizing" their sales, tried to spin this move as one that "ensure[s] that the mission of libraries is supported." But our mission is not supported by having to spend staff time and energy on complex per-publisher agreements that inhibit our users' access to the content they want -- content that we are willing to pay for.
Their solution isn't just unsupportive, it doesn't even make sense. Allowing a library like the Los Angeles Public Library (which serves 18 million people) the same number of initial e-book copies as a rural Vermont library serving 1,200 people smacks of punishment, not support. And Macmillan's statement, saying that people can just borrow e-books from any library, betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of how public libraries work. Macmillan isn't the first of the "big five" publishers to try to tweak their library sales model to try to recoup more revenue, but they are the first to accuse libraries of being a problem for them and not a partner.
Steve Potash, the CEO of e-book digital distributor OverDrive, came out with a statement saying "publishers and authors are best served by offering multiple, flexible, and reasonable terms for libraries and schools to lend digital content." OverDrive runs the Panorama Project, a data-driven research project which researches the impact of library holdings on, among other things, book sales. He offered some actual data on Macmillan's claims, and painted a different picture.
The American Library Association has denounced this model using strong language, but perhaps it's time for libraries to do more than grumpily go along with whatever gets foisted upon us. Sixty-four percent of US public libraries are members of consortia for e-book purchasing. Maybe it's time we got together and decided to spend more of the public's money with businesses who want to do business with us, who don't just consider us "a thorny problem," while also not understanding how we operate.
Lowering barriers to access to information for all Americans is a public good. Public libraries exist in large part because they are necessary to a functioning democracy. People who participate in civics and elect their own legislators require free access to impartial information so that they can stay informed. Creating barriers to that access -- barriers that disproportionately affect those who are hardest to serve -- is a short-sighted move, and highlights the very real conflicts between capitalism and community.


On reading

BUT THE FIRST LESSON READING TEACHES IS HOW TO BE ALONE.

Well that punishment didn't work.


On July 31st in 1703, Daniel Defoe (who wrote Robinson Crusoe) was put up on a pillory for public humiliation for writing a satirical pamphlet. Instead of getting hit by fruit, he was pelted by flowers.



If you haven't read Franny &Zooey, you really should read it.


“ What happened was, I got the idea in my head–and I could not get it out–that college was just one more dopey, inane place in the world dedicated to piling up treasure on earth and everything. I mean treasure is treasure, for heaven’s sake. What’s the difference whether the treasure is money, or property, or even culture, or even just plain knowledge? It all seemed like exactly the same thing to me, if you take off the wrapping–and it still does! Sometimes I think that knowledge–when it’s knowledge for knowledge’s sake, is the worst of all. ” 

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger



Is the Internet Making Writing Better?




A new book argues that our richest, most eloquent language is found online.

By Katy Waldman
July 26, 2019

A common refrain from writers on Twitter is that writing is hard. Often, this insight is accompanied by the rueful observation that tweeting is easy. This is, of course, the difference between informal and formal expression, between language that serves as a loose and intuitive vehicle for thought and language into which one must wrestle one’s thought like a parent forcing his squirming kid into a car seat. We’ve long had both formal and informal modes of speech. The first pours from political orators; the second winds around friends at a bar. But, as the linguist Gretchen McCulloch reveals in “Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language,” her effervescent study of how the digital world is transfiguring English, informal writing is relatively new. Most writing used to be regulated (or self-regulated); there were postcards and diary entries, but even those had standards. It’s only with the rise of the Internet that a truly casual, willfully ephemeral prose has ascended—and become central to daily life.
McCulloch begins with a taxonomy; different cohorts of users have different linguistic tells. “Pre Internet People” (think grandparents) tend to avoid acronyms like “ttyl”—mostly because they don’t know acronyms like “ttyl.” “Semi Internet People,” who logged on, in the late nineteen-nineties and early two-thousands, as adults, are more likely to type “LOL” than “lol”; they don’t view digital conversation as the place for tonal subtlety. “Full Internet People,” who grew up with AOL Instant Messenger and joined Facebook as young adults, are fluent in text-speak but perhaps less steeped in the grammar of newer platforms like Snapchat and WhatsApp. (McCulloch identifies a source of mutual misunderstanding between Full Internet People, who “infer emotional meaning” in symbols like the ellipsis, and Semi Internet People, who perceive such additions as straightforward bits of sentence structure.) Finally, there are “Post Internet People,” who joined Facebook after, rather than before, their parents. They’re the ones to watch: the digital avant-garde.
For McCulloch, the primary feat of the digital writer has been to enlist typography to convey tone of voice. We’ve used technology to “restore our bodies to writing”: to infuse language with extra-textual meaning, in the same way that we might wave our hands during a conversation. One general principle is that communication leans toward the efficient, so any extra markings (sarcastic tildes, for instance, or a period where a line break will do) telegraph that there’s more to the message than its literal import. That’s how the period, in text messaging, earned its passive-aggressive reputation, and why so many visual flourishes default to implying irony. Similarly, the expressive lengthening of words like “yayyyy” or “nooo” confers a friendly intimacy, and technical marks (like the forward slash that ends a command in a line of code) find new life as social in-jokes (“/rant”). Typography, McCulloch writes, does not simply conjure the author’s mood. It instructs the reader about the purpose of the statement by gesturing toward the spirit in which the statement was conceived.
McCulloch’s project is, at heart, a corrective: she wants to puncture the belief that the Internet de-civilizes discourse. She brandishes research that shows that we become more polite as we get better at typing. (As with online irony, online civility emerges from linguistic superfluity, the perception that an extra effort has been made, whether through hedges, honorifics, or more over-all words.) To those who fear that the Twitter era is eroding our eloquence, McCulloch replies that, in fact, “all our texting and tweeting is making us better at expressing ourselves in writing.” She cites a study of nearly a million Russian social-media users, which revealed that messages in 2008 were less complex than messages in 2016. Through GIFS, emojis, and the playful repurposing of standard punctuation, McCulloch insists, Internet natives are bringing an unprecedented delicacy and nuance to bear on their prose.
To back up this (strong) claim, the book proposes that the Internet’s informal English actually draws from a variety of registers, using tools old and new to create finely calibrated washes of meaning. Considering a real text from a teen-ager’s phone—“aaaaaaaaagh the show tonight shall rock some serious jam”—McCulloch highlights the archaic “shall” next to the casual “aaaaaaaaagh.” Such intermixing, she argues, makes Internet-ese “a distinct genre with its own goals. . . . to accomplish those goals successfully requires subtly tuned awareness of the full spectrum of the language.” This smart observation is also destabilizing: if digital English is “informal,” but imports “formal” locutions, one wonders what the categories are for in the first place. As the book notes, the quest to make writing more emotionally precise, more speech-like, is not Internet-specific; during the modernist movement, writers often broke rules of grammar and punctuation. The language of James Joyce or E. E. Cummings suggests an alluring parallel to Internet-ese, as do other twentieth-century innovations (free verse, stream of consciousness, profanity) that asked an unbuttoned style to represent human interiority. McCulloch grants that traditional writing has tilled these fields before, and she does not deny that relatively old-school techniques—vocabulary, syntax—can load sentences with the exquisite inflections of conversation. Her point, rather, is that this skill is becoming commonplace. “We no longer accept,” she writes, “that nuanced writing is the exclusive domain of professionals.”
We may be living through a democratization of refined writing—but what, exactly, distinguishes Internet-ese from other experimental prose? There are certain authors—Tao Lin, say—whose fiction feels of the Internet, even in hardcopy. There are also recognizable, Web-based sensibilities: shouty wit (Lindy West), prolix familiarity (Choire Sicha), depressive dreaminess (Melissa Broder). McCulloch discusses a few “extremely online” literary effects, such as the poetic blankness of minimalist typography, which omits punctuation and sometimes inserts spaces between letters to evoke a l i e n a t i o n. But she doesn’t really anatomize Internet voice. (She’s not interested, for instance, in the “because [noun]” construction that gives the book its title.) This is probably wise; the inclusion of evanescent fads might only date the work. Still, I found myself longing for a theory that harmonized the ideas of informality, irony, variety, and emotion.
McCulloch’s own style is the endearingly nerdy presentation of an educator. Her enthusiasm works as a sweetener; she knows that students enjoy both corny jokes and groaning at corny jokes. (The practice of lengthening words for emphasis, she points out, predates the Internet by “maanyyy years.”) These chatty lines also reinforce the author’s authority. She’s inside the clubhouse, sipping Martinis with Philosoraptor and Doge. All language declares identity, and yet the performative aspect of McCulloch’s writing feels, itself, Internetty—deeply concerned with inclusion and exclusion. In fact, if there’s one quality that the book consistently links to digital expression, it’s a hyper-attunement to in-groups and out-groups, a tribal awareness. The book offers a chapter on the “atom of internet culture,” the meme, which seduces users with the promise “of belonging to a community of fellow insiders.” The cultivating of solidarity can be empowering, but it also casts a shadow. The meme format, McCulloch writes, with its ability to make “abhorrent beliefs look appealingly ironic,” thrived during Donald Trump’s candidacy.
A sense of doubleness, of trade-offs, is what is perhaps lacking from this celebration of Internet style. Yes, emotional precision is more accessible to the digital writer. (Evoking a mix of outrage and self-deprecation is easy when you have caps lock.) But sometimes discipline vivifies thought. Sometimes, to co-opt a modernist principle, difficulty is good. One wonders whether the eggplant emoji, a shorthand for lust, discourages less efficient, but more original, expression: Rachel Cusk’s formal restraint, or the smolder of an Alan Hollinghurst sentence. McCulloch would say it doesn’t. Maybe that’s true. Her book’s almost political thesis—the more voices, the better—rebukes both the élitism of traditional grammar snobs and the cliquishness of, say, Tumblr. It’s a vision of language as one way to make room for one another.
           
           Katy Waldman is a staff writer at The New Yorker.

Do you know all 8 parts of speech in English?


Do you know all 8 parts of speech in English?
From blog.wordgenius.com

Grade school grammar lessons drill the parts of speech into students’ brains, but once you’re out of the classroom it can be hard to remember all the details. You may be a skilled public speaker, but not know the difference between a subordinating conjunction and a reflexive pronoun. Never fear — we’re going to break down the eight parts of speech and how you use them.
Noun
Nouns are one of the first parts of speech children learn to identify. They’re pretty straightforward: they name people, places and things. They’re also the workhorses of a sentence and play many roles. They can be subject, direct object, indirect object, subject complement, object complement, appositive, or adjective.
Proper nouns designate a specific name or title: President Obama, Mount Everest, Buckingham Palace. Proper nouns are always capitalized.
Common nouns are regular, everyday people, places and things. When talking about things, it can also be an idea, or intangible concept. Common nouns could be mother, playground, apple and magic.
You can further identify nouns as concrete or abstract, plural or singular.
Pronoun
A pronoun is used in place of a noun, which is called its antecedent. The most commonly-used pronouns are personal pronouns: she, her, he, him, I, me, you, it, we, us, they and them.
Possessive pronouns indicate ownership: my, your, its, his, her, our, their and whose.
If you want to emphasize another noun or pronoun you would use a reflexive pronoun: myself, yourself, himself, herself, itself, ourselves, yourselves, themselves.
Relative pronouns introduce a subordinate clause: that, what, which, who and whom.
And demonstrative pronouns are identifying or referring to nouns: that, this, these and those. They take the place of a noun that has already been mentioned.
Verb
Quite simply, a verb expresses an action or state of being. To form a complete sentence you must have a subject and a verb. The verb must agree with its subject, so make sure both are either singular or plural. You can also conjugate a verb to form different tenses. The verb “to be” breaks down into I am, you are, he/she/it is, they are, we are, they are. If you want to express “to run,” it can be “I run,” or you can include a helping verb and say “I am running” or “I can run.”
Adjective
An adjective is what adds color and description to your sentence. An adjective describes a noun or pronoun. If you’re answering the questions of which one, what kind, or how many, that’s an adjective. The RED apple...the OLD man...the GLASS building. The short words, or articles, “a, an and the” are usually classified as adjectives.
Adverb
Adverbs are similar to adjectives, but they modify or describe verbs, adjectives or another adverb. They usually answer questions of when, where, how, why and to what degree. The boy ran QUICKLY...the teacher shouted LOUDLY...the dog SNEAKILY stole the treats. You can usually tell its an adverb if it ends in -ly.
Preposition
A preposition is a word placed before a noun or pronoun to form a prepositional phrase that modifies another word in the sentence.
The mouse ran UNDER the bookcase. In this case, “under” is the preposition within the prepositional phrase “under the bookcase,” modifying how the mouse ran.
The most common prepositions are up, over, down, under, to and from, but that is by no means complete. The English language contains hundreds of prepositions.
Conjunction
If you remember your Schoolhouse Rock (Conjunction Junction, what’s your function?) you know that a conjunction joins words, phrases and clauses. Coordinating conjunctions link equal elements: and, but, or, nor, for, so, yet. Subordinating conjunctions are for comparing things or linking unequal clauses: because, although, while, since.
Interjection
Interjections add spice and excitement to your language. They are used to express emotion and are often used with exclamation points. Oh my! Wow! Yay!



When should you use semicolons?


When should you use semicolons?
From blog.wordgenius.com


Semicolons are one of the most misunderstood and under-utilized weapons in our grammar arsenal.
Here, we’re going to do our best to simplify them. You’ll be casually (and correctly) throwing around semicolons before you know it.
An important thing to understand about the semicolon is that it’s a non-essential punctuation mark. Unlike the period and the comma, which serve crucial purposes, the semicolon is a rather luxurious option; it is used to embellish sentences and allow the writer to express themselves more meaningfully.
The secret behind the semicolon actually lies before our eyes. What does a semicolon look like? It appears to be an amalgamation of a period and a comma. This gives a giant clue on how to use it — not as a period or a comma, but as something in between.
There are three main ways a semicolon is used, as well as a couple of “dos” and “don’ts.”
Joining sentences
The first and main use of a semicolon is connecting two sentences that are part of the same thought. Crucially, in this use, the two sentences have to be just that: sentences. They must be independent clauses that are capable of standing on their own.
Example:
The blue whale is the largest animal to have ever existed. It is an aquatic mammal.
Now, let’s jazz this up with a semicolon:
The blue whale is the largest animal to have existed; it is an aquatic mammal.
As we can see, the two thoughts exist independently of each other (blue whales being big and blue whales being ocean-dwelling mammals), however, they are intrinsically linked. The semicolon brings them together quite eloquently.
This brings us to the first “don’t.” Don’t use a comma to do a semicolon’s job. When two independent clauses are joined with a comma, this is known in the grammatical world as “a comma splice,” and it is frowned upon by the grammar elite.
The second “don’t” pertains to something you might have already spotted. Notice how the capital ‘I’ from the “It is an aquatic mammal” sentence became lower case when we added the semicolon? That is because the two sentences were joined into one. Don’t use a capital letter after a semicolon. The only time to do this is when the semicolon is followed by a proper noun (a name of a person or place).
The third “don’t” is don’t use a conjunction after a semicolon. A conjunction (and, or, but, etc.) can join two sentences together.
Example:
The blue whale is the largest animal to have ever existed, and it is an aquatic mammal.
The comma and the conjunction are performing the job of the semicolon, so there is no reason to use both.
Having said this, the only “do” is somewhat related. Despite conjunctions being inappropriate, conjunctive adverbs are quite welcome. Adverbs are “how” words, elaborating on how something is done. A conjunctive adverb can add more richness to a sentence with a semicolon.
Example:
The blue whale is the largest animal to have ever existed; interestingly, it is an aquatic mammal.
Detailed lists, or lists that already include commas
Arguably simpler than the first use, but far less common, semicolons can be used in certain types of lists.
An easy example would be:
My favorite U.S. cities are New Orleans, Louisiana; Los Angeles, California; Denver, Colorado and Paris, Texas.
Here, the semicolons are doing the traditional job of commas, because the commas are already in use in the city names.
Here is a more complex example:
On my date last night we saw that new rom-com, accompanied by extra buttery popcorn, Skittles and a Slushie; after that we somehow had room for a full meal, including salmon linguine and fudge cake; to finish we stared at the moon all night, which was extra large for this time of year.
Here, commas are employed to add detail to the list items, meaning semicolons were needed to divide the list.
The wink ;)
The final, and most fun, use of a semicolon is the winky face. Grammar traditionalists would have a hard time accepting this as a genuine use. However, whether they like it or not, language rules and norms are at the mercy of common usage and habits. The modern reality is that emoticons and emojis are here to stay.



Fall In Love With the Written Word at These Literary Themed New England Hotels




On vacation, readers and writers often attempt to settle down with a good book or an unfinished manuscript, respectively. But time on windy beaches, in swarming cafes, or at hectic airport lounges is limited. Holidays are busy with distractions, and those irritating must-see sites always interfere. A few hotels in New England, however, are perfect literary retreats and ideal for vacationers hoping never to stray too far from the page or pen. Here are the New England hotels that most revere the written word.
The Study at Yale, New Haven
Just by staying the night at the Study at Yale, guests might pore through an author’s oeuvre or write the perfect opening chapter. After all, if the Holiday Inn Express can run commercials about guests with no medical experience performing surgery after one night’s stay, well then waking up to and overlooking one of the country’s premier universities seems as though it could warrant a similar claim. In any case, the hotel is still a literary locale with its intellectual clientele, leather reading chairs, and hand-selected books on the shelves in every study and suite. 203-503-3900, thestudyatyale.com
Canyon Ranch, Lenox, Massachusetts
Most people who visit Canyon Ranch use their time to pause and reflect. It’s a place of vast grounds, countless workshops on self-study and spirituality, and included spa services. While all of these items are conducive to that well-needed writer’s getaway, or to create the conditions for a reader’s sanctuary, timing your visit right could make it an even more bookish weekend. Among the many speakers presenting at Canyon Ranch are authors who conduct workshops, readings or literary discussions in the resort’s high-ceilinged library. Even if no writer is in residence, the seminars, lectures and grounds offer those kernels that could launch a project from seed to sprout. 800-742-9000, canyonranch.com
Mayflower Inn & Spa, Washington
The cliché writing retreat would include footpaths for thinking, gardens for pondering, vistas framing the very scene missing from one’s manuscript, and underlit, dark-wooded libraries with reading lights that mushroom up beside comfortable, deep chairs. The Mayflower has all of these trappings, yet the beauty of the grounds is the furthest one can get from hackneyed. More than just having a garden for reflection, the property has two: the Shakespeare Garden and the American Poets Maze, where one can wander among quotes and hedges and flowers. While it’s an upcharge for spa services, the vista through barn-door-size windows of ponds and empty grounds (which, a century ago, had been home to a private school), the purity of the white room, the quality books and magazines shelved about, and the recliners designed to steal a person from doing anything but read rivals any tranquil space in New England. 866-217-0869, aubergeresorts.com/mayflower
The Press Hotel, Portland, Maine
What had once been the offices of a local newspaper is now a chic hotel that still holds the spirit of a newsroom. Images of old front pages wallpaper the hallways, and even the carpet is wordy, as the wallpaper typeface appears to have dropped entire paragraphs to the rug. And like leaves fallen from trees, those letters have been swept to one side, forming alphabetical piles that have fused with the fabric. The hotel rooms are right for a good read, though they might also inspire one to pen their first lines of fiction. In the bedside stands, classic novels supplant the Gideon’s typical offerings, and famous quotes are attached to everything, from robes to toiletry items. “Don’t skimp on ice. I prefer beautiful, big squares for my cocktails” — this Jose Andres ode to cubes sits in front of the ice bucket. Aristotle’s “Change in all things is sweet” is a handy card for guests requesting housekeeping to swap their bed sheets. Fun with words fills all spaces: that famous pangram about the quick brown fox and his interactions with that lazy dog is printed on the back of all in-room desk chairs; the hotel lobby has a peaceful library and an oversize Scrabble board; and the basement features a literary-inspired art gallery with a rotating collection. Best are the few dozen typewriters in the lobby. Most are bolted to the wall as a permanent exhibit. But a few working ones are set out for guests to punch up a quick diary entry or a letter about their fine-dining experience at the Union restaurant, which connects to the lobby and provides kids’ menus inside picture books like The Hungry Caterpillar. 207-573-2425, thepresshotel.com
Saybrook Point Inn, Old Saybrook
While the harbor and lighthouse views from the main inn are beautiful enough to stir the words out of any writer or to satisfy a reader’s need for solace, the guesthouses across the street make the Saybrook Point Inn a proper bookish escape. The inn’s two guesthouses, aptly named Tall Tales and Three Stories, are historic accommodations. In either of the two houses, bookworms can dig into a good story and wordsmiths can hammer out manuscript pages, as quaint rooms and airy balconies hark back to another time. Their less bookish companions can also stay out of their hair, keeping busy at the facilities at the main inn, in the guesthouses’ game rooms with billiards or chess, in the yard at the bocce courts, or atop the roof at the fire pits. 860-395-2000, saybrook.com
The Battle of Boston
With some of the country’s best universities, a riot of privately owned bookstores and a host of literary events, Boston has always been a city of books. While the bustle of Boston offers a different atmosphere than the peaceful retreats noted earlier, it is still a city of literary merit, and many of its hotels have a fondness for words. The Hotel Commonwealth has books available by request at the front desk. One guest room is even dubbed the Reading Suite, offering a writer’s table and housing titles, many of which have been signed by visiting authors. The Ames Boston allows guests to breakfast in The Library, which, properly, features a library. Most famous is the Omni Parker House. Long ago, the hotel had hosted the monthly meetings of the Saturday Club, which was a gathering of important minds, including some of the 19th century’s most famous poets — Emerson, Thoreau, Longfellow — and writers, including Hawthorne. Charles Dickens began his first American reading tour of A Christmas Carol at the Parker House, too. Even some of the 20th century’s most astute political minds picked up paychecks at the hotel: Ho Chi Minh had been employed as a baker just before World War I and Malcolm X bussed tables in the ’40s. Across the river, in Cambridge, sits the Charles Hotel, occupying one of the most well-read corners of the country, as it’s hemmed in by Harvard, MIT and the tree-lined banks of the Charles River. Within a few blocks, one can shop a number of bookstores, many of which host weekly literary events, like the Harvard Bookstore and Porter Square Books. The former even has a machine that will print books, manuscripts and lectures (even those once previously inaccessible) on demand. Besides the lobby library beneath the staircase, the Charles Hotel’s two restaurants are important gathering points for literary fans. Like the Saturday Club that had once graced the Parker House, the Supper Club members, or so we’ll call them, comprise dozens of Harvard and MIT professors who come to feast and imbibe, and who talk about big ideas and great books. Listening in on these conversations at the bar, for instance, with a good book or a ready pen is both a gustatory delight and some literary meddling.




Writing Matters: 5 Books That Can Help Us Become Better Writers




BY JEFF MINICK

Some writers and teachers among us, praise be to all of them, are obsessed with writing, grammar, syntax, and our English language. They argue for concise diction, debate the use of “like” versus “as,” condemn sloppy usage, and are horrified by misspellings. Recently, for instance, a reader of one of my book reviews chastised me for spelling Mary Chesnut of Civil War fame as Chestnut, a mistake that brought an immediate “mea culpa” from me.
Many bookstores devote several shelves to these books on writing and composition, ranging from such classics as Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style” to the recently released “Dreyer’s “English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style.” (Some guardians of the language would shoot down “utterly,” arguing redundancy.) In these works, we find writers who love the English language with the fondness of children for their mother.
A score or so of these guides share a home on the shelf above my desk. Robert Hartwell Fiske wrote four of these volumes: “To the Point”; “The Best Words”; “Silence, Language, and Society”; and “Elegant English.” Fiske was the founder and editor of Vocabula Review, an online site devoted to the encouragement of clear expression. I am proud to say that several of my articles passed Fiske’s discerning eye and appeared on Vocabula.
“Silence, Language and Society,” by Robert Hartwell Fiske.
That Fiske was obsessed with writing and composition is evident in the prepared statement he wrote before his untimely death from melanoma in 2016:
Robert Hartwell Fiske, owner and editor of the Vocabula Review since its genesis in September 1999, has died. Vocabula, I am sorry to say, will die along with him. My apologies. I have taken great pleasure in getting to know you, my readers. And I will miss you mightily. I wish you all an auspicious fate, a long-lived life. (Even though many people pronounce long-lived with a short i sound, the long i is correct. Long-lived derives from the word life, not the word live.)
Now there, my friends and readers, is a man who departed this world displaying courage, wit, and class.
Here are five other books I frequently examine or else have used when teaching composition to students. In purchasing these books, my reasoning proceeded as follows: If I learned just one new trick or technique, that advice was worth much more than the few dollars I’d spent.
Five Winning Resources
“Vex, Hex, Smash, Smooch” by Constance Hale.
Constance Hale’s witty “Vex, Hex, Smash, Smooch: Let Verbs Power Your Writing” reminds writers that verbs are the engines of a sentence. She begins by quoting the verbs used by Julius Caesar, Saint Matthew, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Saul Bellow, and even her dog Homer, who “understands the commands sit, stay, heel, and fetch.” Dull verbs, dull writing.
Next up are two books by Stephen Wilbers: “Keys to Great Writing” and “Mastering the Craft of Writing.” The first I used with upper-level high school students in my final years as a teacher; the second I bought because of the pleasure the first book delivered.
Stephen Wilbers’s “Keys to Great Writing.”
Wilbers addresses the fundamentals for constructing sentences, paragraphs, and essays, all with exercises designed to underline the lessons taught. In the book “Keys to Great Writing,” Chapter 4 “Music” with its emphasis on beat, rhythm, and composition, along with dozens of practical tips, is particularly valuable both to the novice and the veteran writer.
The fourth edition of “Style: The Basics of Clarity and Grace,” written by Joseph Williams and revised in this edition by Gregory Colomb of the University of Virginia, offers excellent lessons in sentence and paragraph cohesion, emphasis, and concision. On page 58 of my copy, alongside six principles of concision like “Replace a phrase with a word” and “Change negatives to affirmatives,” a note remains from the days I taught style in the classroom. “Drum these into students,” the note says. After reviewing these six points, I hope I beat that drum good and loud.
“Style: The Basics of Clarity and Grace.”
Gregory Roper’s “The Writer’s Workshop: Imitating Your Way to Better Writing” harkens back to the practice of copying the style of other writers, or sometimes literally copying their work, until you find your own voice and rhythm. My Advanced Placement Composition students often undertook Roper’s exercises, often with productive but hilarious effects, by modeling passages from such works as Geoffrey of Vinsauf’s “Poetria Nova,” “The Ten Commandments” from the book of Deuteronomy, and Charles Dickens’s “Great Expectations.”
Gregory Roper’s “The Writer’s Workshop: Imitating Your Way to Better Writing.”
Roper enrolls his readers in a true writer’s workshop, with many well-constructed exercises, which, for those willing to pitch in and do the work, can help boost composition skills.
Finally, let me recommend “Style: The Art of Writing Well.” Here F.L. Lucas, a British classical scholar and writer who died in 1967, left us a book that bestows the twin pleasures of fine writing and excellent advice. Though I have not read “Style” cover to cover, I have returned to it again and again, drawn, in particular, by the charm of Lucas’s writing and by his stress on “Courtesy to Readers,” that duty owed by all writers, from the poet to the CEO, to write as clearly and as truthfully as possible for their readers. Lucas’s self-deprecation, his many examples, his humor, and his deep knowledge of literature make him a joy to read. A grand treat, but too advanced for most high school and college students.
“Style: The Art of Writing Well.”
In the Information Age, as some have labeled the 21st century, our ability to communicate via the written word is vital. Good writing is important not only in commerce—poor communication costs businesses billions of dollars per year, according to Inc.—but also in our personal affairs. Which of us has not sent an email or text we regretted, or misinterpreted one sent to us by a friend or family member?
Few of us possess the talents of a Leo Tolstoy or a Jane Austen, but through practice and diligent revision, and through the study of such books as those reviewed here, all of us can become better writers.