The risk of any sequel is that it could potentially denigrate the original that inspired it. Like when Paramount, MTV, and Nickelodeon joined together to attack the Asian American community and Airbender fans by insisting on casting all White actors as lead characters in the Asian influenced story (Learn the full story at racebending.com).

OK, it wasn’t a sequel in the strict definition of the word but an adaptation of the original is just the same to me. And just the same, I have not forgiven MTV or Nickelodeon for their role (and silence) in the attack. Nickelodeon in particular because my children are in its target demographic.

I have fond memories of watching the original Avatar: The Last Airbender series on TV. It is one of the few shows we actually watched together – my boys, me, and their mother. Happily, that’s something M. Night Shymalan’s poor adaptation and Paramount’s anti-Asian fervor couldn’t take away. But I was still hesitant, despite my fond memories and reading that the creators and writers of the original would lead the development of its sequel, The Legend of Korra. 

Happily, it shares the same appealing characteristics of the original: an interesting storyline, likeable protagonists, and it deftly balances between potentially heavy social drama and humor. We (the boys, me, and their mother) watched the first two episodes of Korra online last Saturday night. Without cable, it was our way of celebrating this new “book” in the Avatar story.

I like that it wasn’t “The Continuing Adventures of…” And that it takes place two generations after the conclusion of the original Avatar story. Doing so gave it an added sense of “realism”. It made sense to me that it would take two generations to recover from the war between the Fire Nation and the other tribes. It seemed reasonable that this new generation would be somewhat “detached” from the war. It’s sort of how I felt reading about World War II in high school. My grandmother and parents lived through the war (albeit in China through the Massacre at Nanjing) but to me it was just another chapter in my social studies textbook. It’s how I expect my children will see 9/11 (they were both born after).

I also like that it is “realistic” about the challenges of creating the harmonious society imagined by Aang and Zuko when they joined the nations to form the Republic. Free from the bonds of war, the tribes find creative ways to fill their newly acquired leisure time like attending “Pro-bending” tournaments, where benders work in teams to compete in public matches. While many enjoy these shows, others protest the inequalities between benders and non-benders.  And there are gangs of benders abusing their powers and extorting money from non-benders. You could say that the tribes have traded one war for another.

I don’t know if future full episodes will be made available online. Everyone in this house definitely hopes so. We started watching the original Avatar series on Netflix this week. Having seen the end, it is interesting to be reminded of how characters like Aang, Zuko, and Katara were when the show started and how they matured by the show’s end.

Korra being 17 and a girl introduces some potentially complex and engaging stories, if the writers stay in tune with the challenges of moving from adolescence to adulthood. If they choose to write Korra into a relationship, will they address the insecurities and jealousies that arise when one partner is more “gifted” than the other? It might be interesting to compare Tenzin’s (as a powerful bender) marriage to a non-bender. Is there tension there between him and his wife caused by his brothers and sisters or his wife’s family? How does that dynamic change if Korra dates a non-bender? 

If I were to put together a “Recommended Reading” list for dads, Fàbio Moon and Gabriel Bà’s Daytripper would definitely be on it.

It’s tough for me to talk about it without spoiling it for those who haven’t read it yet. I suck at being coy with the details – especially when it comes to a story like Daytripper — where I’ve been so eager to tell to anyone who’ll listen about it.

So let me warn you now: POSSIBLE SPOILERS.

If you are the type that gets put off when an ending is prematurely revealed, STOP HERE. I’m more of a “process guy”. I’m more interested in how the story got to where ever it ends up than the ending itself (though in this case, it is the ending that makes sense of everything on the “trip”).

Daytripper is a surreal journey that might immediately be mistaken as one man’s life flashing before his eyes but after the second chapter it might be that the man is being shown his “alternate lives” so he can pass in peace. Providing an itinerary for the “trip”, each chapter is named after the man’s age as it relates to that part of the story.

The story begins with the grown (32 year old) son of a famous father waiting across the street from the auditorium where his father is to receive an award. He is in an empty bar killing some time before the start of the event. He starts out just wanting a pack of cigarettes, but the bar is empty and the bartender seems friendly (Conducive for “just one drink”).

The bar is named “Genaro”, so it is natural for, Bràs, the son of the famous father to ask the bartender: “So, are you Genaro?” The bartender responds: “That’s what most people think. But, Genaro, was my father’s name… He named it after himself. I just inherited the place.”

“You could have changed the name of the bar,” Bràs says.

The bartender, Genarinho, responds, “It would still be his bar and I would still be his son.”

Bràs: “We’re all somebody’s son, right?”

Genarinho: “Right. We just don’t get to choose our family.”

Genarinho’s nephew enters the bar. This is where the introduction ends and story begins.

Bràs is a writer like his father. But unlike his father, no one recognizes him as a “cultural icon”. He writes obituaries, which either Jorge, Bràs’ best friend, or his girlfriend (I can’t remember) tell him is as equally important because of the sense of closure they offer to the surviving families of the deceased.

I wouldn’t say Bràs is jealous of his father (at least not in the poisonous way that drives soap opera plots). I would say Bràs wants to be a peer to his father. In the events leading up to the start of the story, you are told that Bràs’ father has forgotten his birthday and has forgotten to invite him to the ceremony being held in his honor. It is his mother, who urges him to go and it is Bràs who leads you to believe father has done this before and that Bràs does not interpret it as a personal slight but as a slightly painful part of his father’s personality. So of course he is going to the gala honoring his father, direct invite or not.

Among the many themes possible in Daytripper is the one of “action”. Bràs struggles with his inertness. The example that comes to mind is how, when you were a young child, you were told to stay where you were, if you were ever separated from your parent and lost.

Bràs is lost. He is not unhappy about his job as a obituary writer but he is uninspired by it. He wants more. Bràs is lost and doing what that lost child was told to do – staying right where he was when he realized he was lost and waiting for a parent to find him and set him back on his way.

His friends – Lemanja (goddess of the sea and protector of children)  – even his parents – all tell him to take action – to decide – and be on his way. But he has many reasons – both real and invented — for hesitating. In the context of the story, you are never told whether the events that happen to him after the bar are real or imagined.

Another possible theme in the story directly addresses the relationship between father and son – legacy?

There is no doubt about the influence Bràs’ father has on his life, though it is not an intentional or direct influence. Bràs’ father is not depicted as being overbearing or domineering. It is more a condition of how Bràs empowers the image of his father in his life. I say “image” because his father probably has no clue about the weight of his actions on his son.

As a father of sons, it is the ending of Daytripper that makes it a must read for fathers. I wish I was smart enough to properly convey the sense of its profundity I felt when I read it. I can say though that it is a lost letter from his deceased father found within the pages of Bràs’ first book. And add that the way the letter was found and who found the letter is very symbolic of the relationship between fathers and sons.

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Now 30 years old, The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 can still make you laugh as the main character, Adrian, relays the adolescent struggles of his daily life. In addition to the book retaining its relevance more than a score since its first publication, Adrian Mole also functions as a time capsule, providing clues to the impact of the big events of the early 80s like Charles and Diana’s wedding and England’s involvement in the Falkland War.

In a BBC Radio 4 interview, the interviewer, Evan Davis, and, the author, Sue Townsend, ponder if history is repeating itself –

Davis: “You probably didn’t watch Prime Minister’s Questions but the theme was how everything’s returned to the 1980s – We’re going on about the Falkland Islands, unemployment rising, a Tory government, you know.”

Townsend: (laughing) Nothing changes.

Val Hennessey writing in the Mail Online would disagree:

Yet things have changed. Already, Townsend’s masterpiece evokes a vanished, more innocent time before mobile phones, Facebook, internet porn, teenage binge-drinking, fast-food takeaways and substance abuse. Adrian’s world is one of phone boxes, gramophones, GP home visits, youth clubs, ping-pong matches, neighbourliness and respect for the law.

And I would disagree with Val Hennessey (and also with Sue).

Val is right in that things do change. However, I disagree that the 80s were a more innocent time. There was porn, teenage binge-drinking, fast-food takeaways and substance abuse before mobile phones, Facebook, and the internet. The latter three just made it possible to bring the former three into brighter lights and broader audiences.

Sue is right in believing that despite the technology people at their core don’t really change. Adrian Mole has withstood the test of time because the adolescent issues he contends with are a constant amid the technological advances. Acne, first loves, first heartbreaks, personal identity, and the fallibility of your elders, these are all things children address as they progress from age 12 to age 13 3/4. I agree with Sue, if this is what she means by “Nothing changes.”

However, Sue is wrong, if social tolerances are included in the discussion. I think we have advanced and changed as a society too. While not as fast as our technological advances, as a people we have crossed some important thresholds in terms of equality and tolerance.

Adrian Mole was published at the start of the 80s, before the AIDS epidemic and Band AID (and LIVE AID), before the rise of cable TV and MTV (my introduction to New Wave music and style), before the introduction of the Apple Macintosh and the rise of the personal PC, before movies based on Tama Janowitz and Brett Easton Ellis novels, before Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club, before Pac Man and Atari.

We Love This Book posts:

However Townsend doesn’t think Mole would have adapted well to teenage life in 2012. “He would be exactly the same but he wouldn’t be using Twitter to memorialise his life," she says. "He would keep a secret diary. Mole’s privacy is still intact. He would not use social networking."

I know he is her invention and I admit I have not read any of the other books in the Adrian Mole collection but I think she’s wrong. I think if Adrian were 13 3/4s in the 21st Century, he would be on Facebook and Twitter seeking out other intellectuals worldwide from the safety of his hometown.

Instead of a paper and pen diary, Adrian might have a password protected blog or a private YouTube channel where he records his daily observations and aspirations. The distractions offered by 20th Century comforts like video game consoles, VHS tape rentals, and cable TV would have certainly fed Adrian’s imagination and social development.

Is Evan Davis right? Is 2012 going to be a 1982 rerun? It’s too soon to tell.  I like how Like Totally 80s presents it: “80s Fashions Return With 21st Century Corrections.” Just change “fashions” to “social politics” or any other topic.

Emma Cossey begins her post at For Book’s Sake:

Every generation has a literary hero. Whilst the teens of today idolise Harry Potter and Bella Swan, the thirty-somethings had a very different idol: Adrian Mole.

I don’t know that Adrian Mole would have been an idol of mine had I read him in the 80s. I was too into Jim Carroll and Holden Caufield. But I do know that reading Adrian Mole now brought back memories of similar situations and feelings I had had when I was 13 3/4s. And I think if I pick the book up again in 2032 (Adrian Mole’s 50th birthday), I would revisit the same memories and laugh at the same descriptions.

Happy Birthday Adrian Mole!

I was always intimidated and self-conscious when I talked to her or was in her presence because she was like art. I mean, she was an object that had been very strongly, effectively created. (Robert Rauschenberg, Edie: An American Biography, 1982)

George Plimpton did an excellent job editing all the interviews Jean Stein gathered for her book, Edie: An American Biography. The amazing thing about it is how well the different interview segments come together to tell a cohesive story – but differ in tone enough so you are reminded of all the different characters talking.

It feels as if Warhol himself pressed Play and Record together on the old Sony cassette recorder and just left it at a party for Edie. I would imagine hearing the din of the party goers and the white noise – the echoes and static — from the recorder’s built-in microphone as I read further.

Edie is very thorough. The Addenda to the book is a family tree that begins with Edie’s Great, Great, Great Grandparents. I kept having the refer to the Addenda to keep all the names and relations straight in my head. Having finished the book, I have a deeper appreciation of how the Plimpton and Stein chose to start it:

John P. Marquad, Jr. – Have you ever seen the old graveyard up there in Stockbridge? In one corner is the family’s burial place; it’s called the Sedgwick Pie… The descendants of Judge Sedgwick, from generation unto generation, are all buried with their heads facing out and their feet pointing in toward their ancestor. The legend is that on Judgment Day when they arise and face the Judge, they will have to see no one but Sedgwicks. 

This starting passage is perhaps the root of all of Edie’s problems. It begins as far back as Judge Sedgwick who moved to Massachusetts after the Revolutionary War. The Pie might be a comment of how much the Judge valued the idea of family or it might be the materialization how egotistical and self-important the Judge was.

The book carefully provides readers with an understanding of the circumstances that created Edie Sedgwick. Starting with those that created Edie’s father, Fuzzy, and the tragic results of his needs on his children. You have to be patient though. In Edie you are watching the painter dip his brush into the paint and carefully apply it onto the canvas. The end result maybe exciting but the process can be potentially monotonous. I found myself leaving my place in the book to skip ahead for mentions and photos of Edie.

Mentions of Edie are sprinkled throughout the book but nuggets of Edie don’t appear until the half way point. Half way through the book is when the discussion turns from Babbo, Fuzzy, brothers Bobby and Minty, and Andy Warhol to Edie. You eventually feel like you know Edie (which is the sign of a successful biography) but you must be patient.

The biography works because as you read about Edie you start applying all of that background information you were fed during the first half of the book. It helps that the story of Edie’s family is an interesting one but the payoff for me was that I was using that information to understand why Edie was always late and why it took her so long to put on make up, etc.

When I wrote my review of Factory Girl, I had seen the movie but hadn’t read the book. It was the movie that inspired me to read the book. I had read somewhere that the book inspired the movie. I believe the book is now named, Edie: American Girl.

Having read the book, I can honestly see why Factory Girl’s critics were so upset…

But I would like to add that it is unfair to have discussions regarding depth when you compare a book to its movie. A book has much more flexibility with time. It can be set down, left aside, reread, and returned to. Whereas a movie is a linear experience without the benefit of breaks. Unless you are watching it on DVD or Blu Ray, when you watch a movie you only have one shot at getting the whole picture (pardon the pun).

I still like Factory Girl — though I still believe its problem is that it lacks “art.” And I still think Andy would have liked Factory Girl because it was a “Hollywood movie” with its perfect people and “happy” (over-the-top dramatic) ending.  There’s another point in Popism where Andy playfully ponders which popular star would portray him in a movie about the Factory. He didn’t make Hollywood movies but he was fascinated by them and the stars they made.

There are some that say Andy Warhol made Edie Sedgwick a Superstar. There are others who say that Edie made Andy a household name (gained him a level of notoriety that everyone thought they knew something about). I like to think that there was a chemistry between them. Each made up for the other’s lack of social ability and vision while suffering the same personal insecurities.

I read somewhere (though I can’t remember where) that Andy Warhol asked Lou Reed to write a song for Edie Sedgwick. He commented, “Doesn’t she look like a femme fatale?”

Some might think that Andy was a “homme fatale.”

Just before the recent Christmas holiday, Jennifer at Retrevo.com sent out a list of “Epic Nerd-Approved Movies for Kids.” It concluded a longer list of overall Nerd-Approved Movies (scroll to the bottom of their list for the kids movies). It included (in my opinion) some great movies like The Goonies, The Secret of Nimh, The Witches, and The Dark Crystal. It also included some questionable cinematic ventures like Mac and Me and Titan AE.

It left out all of the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli movies that are my family’s favorites.

I’m the worst when it comes to “kid appropriate.” My rating system involves my guessing at what will and will not give my children nightmares.

I’ve already written about the time I read my eldest Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. But there is also the time my eldest and I watched Toby Maguire’s Spider-man. He might have been three. I didn’t see the harm. I was comfortable with the level of violence and there was no sexually suggestive nudity. The movie quickly became his favorite and he asked to watch it repeatedly.

Then one time, during one of the viewings he screamed for me to turn it off. But it wasn’t the depiction of the Green Goblin or the fighting that suddenly scared him – It was too early in the movie. The scene that frightened him despite his seeing it several times before was the scene where Peter is bitten by the spider! Somewhere between this current viewing and the last time he saw the movie, he became afraid of spider bites.

He can watch the entire Spider-man movie now but the incident has left me fearful. I have become acutely sensitive to every gasp and jerk he and his brother make when they watch a movie.

To be fair, Jennifer did include Princess Mononoke on her overall Nerd-Approved list. She put it in the “A Flair for the Dramatic” along with some of my favorite movies (Gattaca, The Man Who Fell to Earth, and Donnie Darko). I don’t know why Mac and Me beat out Kiki’s Delivery Service or Spirited Away for a spot on her Kids list.

I bought the Studio Ghibli Movie Collection on Ebay several years ago after watching Turner Classic Movies festival of Hayao Miyazaki movies. They showed both dubbed and subtitled versions of my favorite Studio Ghibli films like My Neighbor Tortoro — my youngest used to refer to this as the “girl gòhgō (big brother)and me” movie — Princess Mononoke — my eldest calls this the “Bloody Movie” — and Laputa: Castle in the Sky – my eldest says this is his favorite movie. The festival also introduced me to Pom Poko and Porco Rosso.

When the kids can’t decide which movie to watch, I tell them, “We’re watching Pom Poko.” They’ll whine about how they didn’t get their choice but 10 minutes into the movie – slack-jawed silence. They are enthralled by the antics and the chanting of the cutely drawn raccoons and are soon spellbound watching the raccoons fight the humans to maintain their land and fight among themselves to determine how to best fight the humans to protect their land. The movie is comic enough to make its message of conservation and environmentalism, mild violence, and raccoon “pouches” (testicles) that some found overbearing or outright offensive, kid appropriate.

Wikipedia provides a detailed summary of the story.

Pom Poko is not in the Studio Ghibli Movie Collection but can be bought separately. The movies included in the Collection are:

1. Laputa: Castle in the Sky
2. My Neighbor Tortoro
3. Grave of the Fireflies
4. Princess Mononoke
5. Spirited Away
6. Kiki’s Delivery Service
7. Porco Rosso

Porco Rosso is about a “cursed” pilot who leaves the Italian Air Force to become a bounty hunter. It’s never explained outright why he is cursed but the curse gives him the face of a pig (which along with pieces of dialogue might help us guess at a cause). In the summary provided at Wikipedia, his guilt from losing his best friend in battle is cited as the cause of his curse.

The kids never ask about this. They never ask why Porco Rosso is a pig among humans. They take it for granted that cartoon animals and cartoon humans coexist on the same plane on screen. The aerial battle scenes and chases are enough to bait them into watching long enough to be engaged by the movie’s emotional themes like the sense of duty in conflict with the truth of the matter.

Another testament to Hayao Miyazaki’s talent and those at Studio Ghibli is of all the DVDs and Blu Rays I’ve bought since  the Studio Ghibli Movie Collection, it continues to have the highest “re-watch value” among my family. Whether its because we’re staying in due illness or short ill-conceived holiday or simple exhaustion, when there is nothing particularly engaging on Netflix and TV, a Studio Ghibli film is a surefire way for my kids and I to pass the time.

What’s your favorite Studio Ghibli movie? What movies have a high re-watch value at your house?

As a parent, two stories I would like to tell better are the story of 9/11 and the story of Christmas. With the former, I’m still trying to get it “just right.” Both my children were born after 9/11 (my older one just nine months after). They are still so very young and naïve. People are still “linear beings” to them. There is a distinct line between right and wrong, good and bad — And good things happen to good people, and bad things to bad people.

The notion always reminds me of this article I read in the UTNE Reader a long time ago. It was called something like “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.” It presented interesting thoughts about our perception of good behavior and reward and what happens when the rewards don’t pan out.

I’ve told them about 9/11 but only in vague isolated terms. To them it is another chapter in a social studies textbook (and in many ways that is OK with me for now). I’ve told them that sometimes people want things so bad that they forget about who gets hurt in the process. And I’ve also told them not to give up so quickly on broken objects, sometimes the pieces can be brought together and put together into something just as great. But they are getting older, they need more than just my detached philosophizing.

Christmas is the other story I would like to tell better. The recent reaction to a teacher telling her students there is no Santa Claus, got me thinking about the importance people have placed on him as a symbol of What? Giving? Christmas? Innocence? Childhood?

That’s where I hit a snag. When that teacher said there is no Santa Claus, parents rushed to protect the belief they’ve nurtured in their children about Santa Claus – But what does Santa Claus mean? Or what is he supposed to mean to them?

Francis Church’s editorial comes to mind:

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Is this the “Santa” that the parents are protecting?

At the Manataka American Indian Council site there is an essay by Floyd Looks for Buffalo Hand on the history of Christmas among American Indians. It’s an interesting document of how a foreign faith appealed enough to the existing peoples to be adapted into their beliefs and customs.

It’s also a reminder that Christmas is a Christian holiday. It’s the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, who is believed by Christians to be the Son of God. My favorite retelling of the birth of Christ was done by Linus in A Charlie Brown Christmas:

I should probably have more issues than I actually do with the “modern spirit” of Christmas. In fact, part of the meaning of Christmas for me is its commercialization. I like the colored lights, mistletoe, and shopping mall Santas.

As for “Christ the Lord,” I’ve decided liking what the religion stands for (charity and goodwill) does not necessarily mean liking its followers and the harm they’ve caused in its name.

Jesus Christ Superstar is streaming on Netflix. Because it is set at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, it’s usually referenced during Easter. I’m going to mention it here because it’s a well written story about a man whose celebrity gets the best of him and because it’s his birthday that inspired the holiday, regardless of whether you choose to celebrate it as a religious occasion, a commercial event, or simply as a part of Western custom.

Reading Thad Rutkowski is like reading the lab journal written by the rat running the maze. His observations are just as emotionally sparse as those of the scientist conducting the experiment. You are presented with a circumstance (the experiment and the hypothesis being tested) and then you are given a series of actions and reactions. You draw your own conclusions.

I have read Roughhouse and Tetched: A Novel in Fractals. Haywire continues the chronicle begun in Roughhouse. Like its predecessors, Haywire begins in childhood and concludes in adulthood. Haywire also continues the literary construct introduced in Tetched — The idea of “novel.” The complete title for Haywire is Haywire: A Novel. Now, well into the Post Modern and literary Deconstruction Ages of genre ambiguity, I found it curious that Thad chose to anchor his last two books to a genre. I don’t know that the identification added to or took away from my reading experience but I found it curious nonetheless.

Lisa Simmons provides an insightful review of Haywire at The Nervous Breakdown. It includes a quick summation of the novel’s overall plot: Experiences of a biracial boy growing up in rural Pennsylvania. She also cites her disappointment with the lack of closure at the end of the parts of the book.

And yet the fact that he did is one of the chief disappointments in the book. Significant events go unresolved by the end of Part 1, which actually crowns that section with its consistent sentimentality and understatement yet leaves the reader somewhat nostalgic for that time, place and those characters even if our protagonist is not.

The book is organized into three parts, which I interpreted as childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. His previous books followed the same pattern. They begin with straightforward – some times “deadpan” — observations of the darker processes of male development. Thad’s stories are Boys Life stories that include the disturbing experiences of boys becoming men. Once men, the boys discover the canon is insufficient.

In “Stages,” which I want to believe inspired to name of the novel, the narrator is a boy pressured by his father to launch a homemade rocket.

Reluctantly, I pushed a button to open a circuit between the car battery and the rocket engine. A hot copper thread ignited the solid fuel and the homemade projectile left the ground with a hiss. Almost immediately, the missile went haywire. It started to corkscrew through the air. A couple of hundred feet up, it began to pinwheel.

Part One of the book is a collection of memories in which the narrator is “taken” to locations for activities determined by his father. The narrator’s father is a “force” in his life, forcing action and adaptation.  He is half the canon of manhood that the narrator must contend with.

The narrator’s peers form the other half: Boys who live in unison with the canon and boys who have found ways to cope. In “Brotherhood,” Thad uses the tension between the narrator’s college roommate and the narrator to infer a dialogue about the canon and its rules on “man territory” and “man relationships.”

“Brotherhood” also provides a prolonged uncharacteristic discussion of race. I could be wrong but from what I remember of Thad’s stories, race has never been given more than a line or two and usually just to punctuate a point. In this story, a chunk of the passages are dedicated to his “Asianness” relating to his “Caucasianness.”

When I read Thad’s work, the voice I hear in my head is sometimes Steven Wright’s somewhat monotone delivery and sometimes the voice of a young child asking why the sky is blue and then answering himself sort of matter-of-factly.

I disagree with Lisa regarding closure. I think Part One ends when the narrator’s father does. In “Shots and Flames,” it is telling when the narrator’s disgruntled father shouts from his hospital bed, “I want to talk to the boy who lives down the street… He understands me.” The narrator, his father’s eldest son is in the room until he is taken outside by a doctor and told his father is terminal.

There is a lot of family dynamic there in that scene. It is unwritten and must be inferred but it is there. As a father of sons and as a son to a father, I can feel it there.

WARNING: POTENTIAL SPOILERS!

Among the highlights of the 2011 New York Comic Con is the preview my children and I saw of Cartoon Network’s Green Lantern: The Animated Series. It had all of the personal and interpersonal issues that make a story interesting to adult audiences and enough explosions and fight scenes to keep younger audiences from fidgeting in their seats.

The issue that I hope they will continue to pursue in the series is the social inequities between the members of the Green Lantern Corps. The story begins at the edge of the universe. We learn through conversation between characters that those Green Lantern Corps members at the edge of the universe (and furthest from Oa, the Green Lantern home planet) receive less training than other Green Lanterns.

As an educator, this “training” issue immediately resonated with me. I equate it to the inequities in the American school system — zoning restrictions, class size, afterschool programs, universal Pre-K programs – issues directly and indirectly related to Brown v. the Board of Ed.

The Red Lanterns, the villains in this series, begin their attack at the edge of the universe. While the Guardians, the overseers of the Green Lanterns, are aware of these attacks they don’t see an immediate need to send help. It’s the impulsiveness of rookie Lantern, Hal Jordan, Earth’s Green Lantern (just in case you didn’t know yet), that provides a preventative step towards resolving the problem.

Both Hal and the Red Lantern rookie, Razor, are catalysts of change – fresh perspectives asking new questions of old biases and habits. And there is that one “rebel” Guardian who covertly assists Hal with his plans – someone from the current order who also doesn’t believe the status quo is infallible or unchangeable.

In education, this change is called “reform.” It’s also the current media buzzword news personalities use to sound informed about issues impacting education.

But its not just these higher order issues that make the Green Lantern series a good one. It’s the humor and what it reveals about human nature. One scene in particular sticks in my mind. It’s the scene where Green Lanterns Kilowog and Hal have just rescued an “edge of the universe” Green Lantern  and are introducing themselves. After Hal introduces himself, Kilowog interjects something to the effect of “Don’t mind the mask. He wears it so no one he knows will recognize him. As if one of his friends would be flying around in outer space.”

It’s best that you watch the show and hear it for yourself. My retelling doesn’t do it justice. Not only can’t I remember the exact lines. I have also taken it out of context and as a result ruined its timing (which is important in comedy). 

For those unfamiliar with the Green Lantern, this clip from the Challenge of the Super Friends gives you a quick no frills version of his origin:

Green Lantern: The Animated Series premieres on Cartoon Network this Friday, November 11, 2011.

I was looking forward to the New York Comic Con (NYCC) panel on National Gaming Day. And was disappointed when I missed it. I think even in the age of “blackening in the Bubble” and the determination of a “good teacher” is how well he or she teaches to the test, it is still easy to argue successfully for the inclusion of games and play in the classroom. Playing games in the classroom have a positive, quantifiable effects on learning and student achievement.

I posted my thoughts about National Gaming Day on my education blog: K2Twelve.

National Gaming Day is November 12. Check their website to see if your local library is participating.

Like talking to teenagers about sex, not enough conversation happens between elementary/middle school students and their adult counterparts (teachers and parents) about video games. If the questions are asked the responses are finite “Nos.” (I don’t think I need to tell you how well abstinence works as birth control.)

At my local library kids stand three or four deep, peering over shoulders. Their peers have reserved time on library computers to do exactly what they do on their DSs. Initially, I saw this as a problem because they weren’t using the library machines on the terms I understood: searching the web for links to information and informational sources, composing papers, building tables, etc.

It stopped being a problem when I realized, my terms were written on the limitations of the library computers of my generation: green, angular text on black screens, the groans, clicks, and whirs of the 20th Century progress.

This recent awakening made missing Thursday’s New York Comic Con (NYCC) panel on National Gaming Day particularly disappointing for me. I made the decision to stay in on the first day of NYCC 2011 to nurse a cold.

I did make it Friday, however, for a full day in the exhibit hall(s) – including a special side trip to the New York Anime Fest (NYAF) exhibit hall and stage.  I had completely missed the Anime Fest last year. Regrettably, I only fared a little better this year. The challenge for the NYAF is retaining its unique identity and audience in the shadow of the slightly older, much larger, and more pop culturally accessible NYCC (everyone knows the Avengers, not everyone knows Naruto).

This year Chevy and Animal Planet had booths at the NYCC. Next year, will JAL and Toho have booths at the NYAF?

The NYCC felt better organized and laid out this year. There were rumors that this one was even larger than the last one. I hadn’t realized just how large the Javits Center was until Sunday when my children and I spent a bulk of our day in the North Pavilion for Kids Day at the NYCC. 

The NYCC with the kids means shorter days for me and addressing more basic needs like packing a lunch, snacks, and water. My kids were with me all three “official” days of the NYCC. One day, I was unprepared and spent $3 on a limp tasteless hot dog from a cart outside the Javits Center.  I also had to make the decision to skip Saturday’s Avengers panel. It was an easy decision and my kids were eager to stay but I could tell by the droop in their lids that it would have been too much. Even if they would have stayed awake through the wait, I doubt they would’ve been able to sit still through the panel.

Last year, I definitely attended more panels and screenings (with and without my kids). Over a year since we cancelled our cable subscription, some of the panels like the Haven panel, while inspiring interest, didn’t have the same draw as meandering through the North Pavilion to see what was going in terms of Beyblades (my kids’ latest obsession) and Nerf shooters.

But it’s not just about the latest and greatest. This year’s NYCC was also a reunion of sorts. A chance to chat and catch up with the people at Amazing Society and Gazillion about Superhero Squad online (heroup.com). Last year, they showered my kids with gifts and special Superhero Squad playing cards to celebrate the launch their site, an online MMO directed at young audiences.

They were just as nice and generous this year. Heroup.com (online) and Little Big Planet (PS3) are the only two games where I let my children interact online with others. The former has become my children’s favorite game. Before the end of the year, we will commit and by subscriptions to the game.