And Crandall is Simply Enthralled by the Writing of Ann E. Burg (and Excited She'll Be at @ALANorg Today) - a Poetic, Historical Narration We All Should Read

 

I was sitting in my office (well, front porch) when the mail truck stopped by my house to deliver a package. I instantly thought, "What did Chitunga order now?" as his generation shops via the Internet and I imagined he needed something for his own work - his own office (his bedroom)(stay at home realities). When I looked at the return address, I kissed the sky, "I cannot believe I've just been gifted a copy of Flooded: Requiem for Johnstown by the one-and-only author, Ann E. Burg!

See, I have Dr. Susan James to thank for this. Actually, I have to thank Kwame Alexander and Carmen Oliver first, as they sent me All The Broken Pieces a little over a month ago. I reflected on the book in a previous post, reconciling that I was doing a doctorate in 2009 and there wasn't time for pleasure reading (my guilt for not reading it until 2020 is immense). I'm in awe of the verse, storyline, skill, narrative, pace, and punch that All The Broken Pieces gave me - a perfect book, and I wish I had it while I taught in Kentucky. Kwame said he read the book over and over while trying to figure out his own story arc with The Crossover. 

The red-headed Susan said, "Oh,Frog. You need to read Flooded: Requiem for Johnstown next. It's a sad story, but is told with amazing grace, research, and craft. I can't wait for you to read it." Soon after, she sent me lines take from the book and asked me if I would kindly craft a 'found' poem for her, which I did. I should have known that Susan (I love my NWP sister) would know Ann Burg and send the poem I wrote to her. The next thing I know, I'm gifted a copy of the book by the actual sage! 

The Great Whatever is magical, indeed.

Throughout the last couple of days of NCTE, I kept sneaking between sessions to read. Finally, Saturday night, I told the boys, "I'm out of commission for a while. I have got to finish this book. Stay away." 

I need to preface my thinking, too, admitting I'm idiotic, moronic, and a doobie doo (in the words of Susan, I'm a "goob"). It's all good, though, because I've always been who I am.

In Kentucky, I began to see the importance of history and, in fact, while doing my dissertation at Syracuse University, and seeking advice from Dr. Alfred Tatum, I was told, "Crandall, don't go a-historical." When eight African-born male refugee youth shared their writing worlds with me at an American High School, a decision was made that one of the chapters needed to be historical ethnographies, to capture a history that resulted in their relocation to the United States. I have Dr. Carol Boyce Davies to thank, too, for post-colonialism and a criticality to question everything I was learning (and positioning) as a Western-born, educated White male. 

Why am I writing this? 

It's easy. Not enough history is taught in school, and as I wrote in 2018, "History Should Come First." That is exactly what Anne E. Burg does in Flooded: Requiem for Johnstown (Facts are facts / but some time / you need to dig deeper / to find the truth (p., 294). It's another brilliant novel in verse that shares the story of May 31, 1889, when the South Fork Dam collapsed in the city of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a town outside of Pittsburgh. Burg (whoa! I just noticed Pittsburgh/Burg - cool) does deep research in what is known about the event, which is little, and uses creative license to recreate the story(ies) of children, teenagers, and families who lived (and lost) during the man-made/nature-inspired event. The poetic narrative is told in three parts, piecing together a period of time where, post Civil War, families worked the land to help build an industrializing America (where the wealthy found themselves able to afford summer retreats and recreation)(I wonder why / some folks spend their summer / by a cool, crisp lake / while others stay home / scrubbing soot from their bones) (p. 45).  

Flooded is a story of economics, class, ecology, love, togetherness, and human tragedy. The communal narrative has three parts (before, during, and after May 31, 1889). It is a story told by the Little Conemaugh and Stony Creek Rivers, which flood the town to bring forward perspectives, puzzle pieces, and storylines (which, the doobie doo in me had to seek help - "Keep reading, Crandall. You'll get it. It all comes together") (You'll see - A-17, B-46 - is not a manufacturing error, nor Bingo. It's not Battleship, nor is it a poetic coding devise used to help Ann Burg keep the characters and voices in her head). It's history. It took me a second, but eventually I got it. Willy James, Joe Dixon, Monica and David Fagan, "Gertie" Quinn, and George Hoffman bring the voices of youth to the forefront of the town, before an environmental tragedy requires the adults to help make sense of it all. 

Pa tells Willy,  you can't pay bills / with pages from a book / and and you can't weave a blanket / from pretty words (p. 25), but that is what Ann Burg accomplishes with her brilliance. She places a poetic blanket around the readers sitting alongside a soaked and shook Gertie to help to make sense of a period of time that is underreported and a horrible metaphor for the world about climate, humans, ego, and "progress". 

Now I am dreaming that there will be another round of National Parks/National Writing Project collaboration grants, because I know Kristin Lessard of Weir Farm and Rich Novack (English teacher) will do a brilliant job with teachers participating in Reading Landscapes: Writing Nature in the 21st Century. They have no choice. This is the book we will read (that's my call, ha ha!)

And, as Susan also said, "How great will this book be for educators in their classrooms? Wouldn't you love to read this with kids?"

Yes, indeed. 

And I will. 

Hopefully, we all will.

Every page of my copy is marked and I will read it again (and again, and again). I have way too much to say for a blog post alone. The intent this morning is merely to tease.

In the meantime, ALAN, today - the author will be in the house! Woot Woot.