The Age of Will

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[Ash Wednesday][bookdetail] is Ethan Hawke’s second novel. Yes…that Ethan Hawke, the actor, from Dead Poets Society, Reality Bites, Training Day and a bunch of other movies. The author’s understanding of dramatic structure and ear for dialogue are showcased in this book.
The story is a simple journey with two people going from point A to point B. The two people are Jimmy, an AWOL Army soldier and Christy, his pregnant girlfriend.
The book is similar to John Updike’s [Rabbit Run][rabbitrun]. The protagonist Jimmy is taking his first difficult steps into adulthood. The author uses great dialog and scene imagery to develop the story’s conflicts as Jimmy and Christy journey. While the story is gripping and well written, it is not in the same league as [Rabbit Run][rabbitrun].
Perhaps that’s an unfair comparison, but the trials Jimmy and Christy go through fail to make them likable characters.
This is a good book, well written and entertaining. I do recommend it. Here is a sample of the dialog:
>”I haven’t been home to Texas in eight years”, Christy continued. “How did that much time go by? I’m a woman now; when did that happen? I’m gonna be a mother.” She was holding her hand to her chest, giving me an expression of disbelief.
>”You sure you don’t want any of this?” I asked, holding my burger. More than halfway done with the monstrous thing, I could say with authority that it was excellent. Probably the best burger I ever ate: fresh tomatoes, fresh onions, a gargantuan crisp deli pickle.
>She shook her head no and went on talking. “I mean, let me tell you this. You hear people talk about whether or not ‘you’ are your body or if ‘you’ are your mind. What your spirit is, right?”
>She paused and I nodded.
>”Well, let me tell you what you’re not. You are not your body, no way. I mean, my body right now is a carnival and I am not in control of it. You should feel what’s going on inside of me; I’m vibrating like . . . I don’t know, like the fuselage of a crashing plane. OK?” She smiled at me, set down her spoon, and cradled her belly with both hands. “This body that you see is not me. I’m not doing any of this. Feel my elbow.” She held out her bent arm for me to touch and, laying my hands on her milk-soft skin, I felt her whole joint popping with electricity.
[bookdetail]: http://books.clubreading.com/book/bookdetail/book_id/312
[rabbitrun]: http://books.clubreading.com/book/bookdetail/book_id/2679

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[Robert Fulghum][author] is one of my favorite writers/story tellers. And of all his books, [All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten][bookdetail] is my favorite. It’s hard to say what makes his stories so entertaining, but his is a master storyteller. Gripping, light-hearted yet serious when needed, inspirational without being preachy…just good stuff.
Here’s a bit from the title chapter:
>Each spring, for many years, I have set myself the task of writing a personal statement of belief: a Credo. When I was younger, the statement ran for many pages, trying to cover every base, with no loose ends. It sounded like a Supreme Court brief, as if words could resolve all conflicts about the meaning of existence.
>The Credo has grown shorter in recent years — sometimes cynical, sometimes comical, sometimes bland–but I keep working at it. Recently I set out to get the statement of personal belief down to one page in simple terms, fully understanding the na?ve idealism that implied.
>The inspiration for brevity came to me at a gasoline station. I managed to fill an old car’s tank with super-deluxe high-octane go-juice. My old hoopy couldn’t handle it and got the willies–kept sputtering out at intersections and belching going downhill. I understood. My mind and my spirit get like that from time to time. Too much high-content information, and I get the existential willies–keep sputtering out at intersections where life choices must be made and I either know too much or not enough. The examined life is no picnic.
>I realized then that I already know most of what’s necessary to live a meaningful life–that it isn’t all that complicated. I know it. And have known it for a long, long time. Living it–well, that’s another matter, yes? Here’s my Credo:
>ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:
* Share everything.
* Play fair.
* Don’t hit people.
* Put things back where you found them.
* Clean up your own mess.
* Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
* Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
* Wash your hands before you eat.
* Flush.
* Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
* Live a balanced life–learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
* Take a nap every afternoon.
* When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
* Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
* Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup–they all die. So do we.
* And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned–the biggest word of all–LOOK.
As Mr. Fulghum goes on to discuss, it’s all in there. Ecology, politics, equality, love, basic sanitation…
When you just have a few minutes and you want to escape the horrors/stresses of the day, grab this book, open randomly and enjoy.
[bookdetail]: http://books.clubreading.com/book/bookdetail/book_id/144
[author]: http://books.clubreading.com/book/browsebook/pagenum/1/author/Robert%20Fulghum