The Body Odd – You are what you read, study suggests

By Linda Carroll

Novels may have a lot more power than we think.

When you identify with a literary character, like Katniss Everdeen of the “Hunger Games” books, there’s a good chance you’ll become more like her, new study shows.

Researchers have found that when you lose yourself in a work of fiction, your behavior and thoughts can metamorphose to match those of your favorite character, according to the study published early online in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.

The researchers believe that fictional characters can change us for the good.So, if you bonded with Atticus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” you might become more focused on ethical behavior, says the study’s lead author, Geoff Kaufman, a post-doctoral researcher at Tiltfactor Laboratories at Dartmouth College.

But the fiction-effect can have a dark side. “Think of ‘American Psycho,’” Kaufman says. “The character is very likable and charismatic. But he’s a serial killer. To the extent that you connect with him, you may try to understand or justify the actions he’s committing.”

Kaufman and his co-author Lisa Libby of Ohio State University suspected that when people read a fictional story they vicariously experience their favorite character’s emotions, thoughts and beliefs in a process that’s been dubbed “experience-taking.”

Kaufman and Libby found that experience-taking can lead to real changes in the lives of readers. What the researchers can’t say yet is whether those changes are brief or long-lasting.

Kaufman suspects novels can sometimes be life-changing. “If you’ve got a deep connection with the characters, it can have a lasting impact,” he says. “It can inspire you to re-read something. And then the impact can be strengthened over time.”

The researchers ran several experiments to look at how we react to fiction. In one, they found that people who strongly identified with a fictional character who overcame many obstacles in order to vote were significantly more likely to vote in a real election days later than volunteers who read a different story.

In another experiment, the researchers compared two groups of volunteers who read different versions of a story in which the protagonist was gay. In one version, readers didn’t learn till the end that the character was gay. In the other, they learned that detail right at the beginning.

Study volunteers who learned about the sexual orientation of the hero at the end of the story expressed more positive feelings towards gay people when they were questioned later on.

That’s because they got to know the character and connect with him before they had a chance to cloud their impression with gay stereotypes, Kaufman explains. Those who learned about the character’s sexual orientation early on didn’t relate to him as much because their stereotypes put distance between them and the character.

Kaufman believes that the fiction-effect only comes with written works. “When we watch a movie, by the very essence of it, we’re positioned as spectators,” he explains. “So it’s hard to imagine yourself as the character. I suspect that if you read the screenplay it would be more powerful as far as experience-taking goes.”

So, who is Kaufman’s favorite fictional personality? Anna Karenina, the protagonist in Leo Tolstoy’s novel of the same name.

“My identification with her might have inspired my research,” Kaufman muses. “It’s the connection with a female character and understanding her struggles and difficulty in adapting to life and society. Looking back, I think a lot of my favorites are strong, complex female characters struggling in society.”

What literary character do you most identify with, and why? Let us know in the comments here, or over on our Facebook page — we may use you in an upcoming msnbc.com post!

via The Body Odd – You are what you read, study suggests.

RIP Maurice Sendak (1928-2012) – The Telegraph

Maurice Sendak Obituary published at The Telegraph

Maurice Sendak, who has died aged 83, was an author and illustrator whose books – notably Where the Wild Things Are – kicked in the doors of the cosy, protected nursery world and ushered in the dark, dangerous and frequently rebellious; as a result they have proved fantastically popular with children.

He contributed to more than 80 books, but it was Where the Wild Things Are,   which has sold more than 10 million copies worldwide since its publication   in 1963, that brought him international recognition. At the time, to   Sendak’s irritation and surprise, the story provoked a collective gasp of   disapproval from parents, teachers and child experts. Not only did the young   hero, Max, yell at his mother, but the pages were also populated by hideous   monsters that grown-ups felt sure would terrify young readers.

If they were terrified, they were also rapt, and critical opinion was quick to   follow the admiration of the title’s intended audience; in 1964 Sendak was   awarded the Caldecott Medal for “the most distinguished American picture   book”. Where the Wild Things Are continues to outsell all his other work and   has been translated into 13 languages, including Afrikaans.

If parents secretly hoped that Establishment recognition would encourage   Sendak to pursue more conservative themes in subsequent creations, they were   to be disappointed. His second picture book, In the Night Kitchen (1970),   featured a naked boy, Mickey, tumbling into a bowl of cake batter, and was   seen as an allegory of child sexuality. Libraries around America are still   lending copies with nappies pasted over the four year-old’s offending nudity   and Sendak became used to accusations of probing latent Freudian fears. But,   once again, adults were far more alarmed than children.

Sendak’s obsession with childhood had been fuelled by going into therapy. He   felt that the traditional portrayal of childhood was inaccurate, and he   sought openly to confront children’s everyday fears and frustrations. How   they master these fears through fantasy is a theme of all his work. For   inspiration he drew simply on his own memories of being a child; as a result   even the wide faces and protuberant eyes of his fictional children are   recognisably Sendak’s own.

Maurice Bernard Sendak was born in Brooklyn on June 10 1928, the same year as   one of his major influences, Mickey Mouse. He was the third and youngest   child of poor Polish-Jewish immigrants. His father, Philip, ran a   dressmaking business which was hit by the Depression, and Sendak’s childhood   was further blighted by ill health which instilled a terror of dying that   haunted him throughout his life.

One of his earliest memories was, aged four, hearing news of the kidnapping   and murder of the infant son of the aviator Charles Lindbergh – a case that   gripped America. In a recent documentary, Sendak described seeing a   photograph of the dead baby in a newspaper, an experience which powerfully   disabused him of the notion that childhood was a fortress unbreachable by   the evils outside.

As a sickly child, he spent much time at home, watching and sketching the   world from his window. His loathing of school, where he was branded a sissy,   encouraged him to observe rather than participate. Greatly influenced by the   tales his father would improvise from the Old Testament and Jewish folklore,   he was conscious, from an early age, of gathering material for his own   stories.

He attended Lafayette High School where, though an indifferent scholar, he was   considered a talented artist. His first commission was to illustrate his   science teacher’s guide to nuclear physics, Atomics for the Millions.

It was in 1951, when Sendak was working as a window-dresser in the toy shop   FAO Schwarz, that he first encountered the work of the great children’s book   illustrators and was introduced to Ursula Nordstrom, the children’s book   editor at Harper Brothers. After seeing his sketches, she commissioned him   to illustrate The Wonderful Farm by Michel Aymé. Over the next decade she   shaped his career, and during this time he illustrated more than 40 books.   He had his first major success with A Hole to Dig, a book in which the   author Ruth Krauss had collected children’s own definitions of words (“A   hand is to hold up when you want your turn”).

Some of his most memorable illustration work of this period can be found in   Else Minarik’s “Little Bear” series. But its reassuring forest atmosphere   was in direct contrast to the direction his own writing would take. This   became clear in the miniature Nutshell Library (1962), a boxed set of four   tiny volumes, the last of which, Pierre, is centred around an archetypal   Sendak anti-hero (to every situation Pierre replies: “I don’t care!”). The   publications brought success and elevated Sendak’s reputation to the point   that one critic proclaimed him “the Picasso of children’s books”.

During these years Sendak emulated the works of master illustrators to expand   his repertoire. He was particularly influenced by English Victorian artists   (notably Arthur Hughes and Randolph Caldecott). Though he later acknowledged   his debt to American popular art, particularly cartoons and comics, his   emerging style was quite unlike the bright, abstract work of contemporary   American illustrators. Largely self-taught, he remained firmly tied to   European 18th- and 19th-century traditions, with subdued wash colours and   careful line-work and cross-hatching reminiscent of wood engravings.

His first book as author and illustrator had been Kenny’s Window (1956). But   it was not until his fourth, Where the Wild Things Are, that Sendak   successfully managed to communicate his private vision of childhood. For   Sendak its success was a double boon. On top of the acclaim, it also earned   him the financial freedom thereafter to pursue projects of his own choosing.   These included illustrating various Randall Jarrell books; reissuing George   Macdonald stories; and developing other picture-books of his own, such as   Hector Protector (1965).

But just when everything appeared to be going well he suffered, in 1967, the   worst year of his life. While on a trip to England he was struck by a heart   attack; meanwhile Jennie, his beloved Sealyham terrier and “best friend”,   died. His longest book, Higglety Pigglety Pop, published later that year, is   a meticulously crafted tribute to her and was later adapted for an opera at   Glyndebourne.

By contrast, In the Night Kitchen (the second of a trilogy which had begun   with Where the Wild Things Are) was, with its bold comic book style and   Oliver Hardy trio of bakers, by far his most cheerful book to date.

The Juniper Tree, a collection of Grimm fairy tales, translated by Lore Segal,   was published in 1973. For these illustrations Sendak received a second   Caldecott Medal, a rare honour which paid tribute to his versatility and   unrivalled consistency as an artist.

But it was his trilogy’s final work, Outside Over There (1981), a surreal tale   about sibling rivalry, that Sendak considered his masterpiece. The story, in   which a young girl called Ida, resentful of her baby sister, allows the   infant to be carried off by goblins, again tapped effortlessly into the   hopes and fears of children.

He then took a break from publishing children’s books and, instead, pursued a   highly successful career as a theatrical designer. Sendak had always loved   music and used to say that, given the choice, he would have been a composer.   He was quick to accept the stage director Frank Cosaro’s invitation to   design The Magic Flute for the Houston Opera (1981), and proceeded to design   at opera houses across America. He worked (again with Frank Cosaro) on a   Glyndebourne production of Prokofiev’s L’Amour des Trois Oranges (1982) and,   with Oliver Knussen, on a double-bill of Where the Wild Things Are and   Higglety Pigglety Pop which was staged in 1984. He returned to Glyndebourne   in 1987 to design sets and costumes for Ravel’s L’Enfant et les sortilèges   and L’heure Espagnole.

Following this opera work, Sendak embarked on various new projects. In 1988 he   was appointed artistic director of Robert Redford’s Sundance children’s   theatre in Utah, and in 1992 he founded a children’s theatre in New York   called The Night Kitchen. That year he illustrated Iona and Peter Opie’s   collection of rhymes, I Saw Esau, the first book by another author he had   illustrated since the 1960s, and the first of his books to be published in   Britain before the United States.

His recent books include Mommy? (2006) – the only pop-up work in his catalogue   – and, last September, Bumble-Ardy. Typically subversive, the latter   features the plans of a young pig to throw a raucous party while his aunt is   away. Inevitably the party gets out of hand, but that, Sendak suggests, is a   far better fate than the alternative. “Bumble-Ardy had no party when he   turned one (his immediate family frowned on fun),” the book explains. His   parents, who deny Bumble-Ardy his birthday treats, find themselves being   eaten. A film of Where The Wild Things Are was released in 2009.

Sendak was passionate about most things in life, whether wildly enthusing   about a favourite book or morbidly railing against the world. But he   confessed that he was essentially a glum, cynical character. His friends   accordingly dubbed him “morose Sendak”, and unsuspecting strangers could get   a shock. When one peppery old lady remarked about Where the Wild Things Are:   “I wouldn’t have it in my bedroom at night,” Sendak snapped back: “Lady, you   wouldn’t have anything in your room at night.”

Such pithy (and frequently self-deprecating) remarks made him a highly   entertaining lecturer in the time, during the 1970s, that he spent teaching   at Yale and the Parsons School of Design. Although he could be intolerant   and uncharitable to colleagues, students and younger illustrators frequently   saluted his kindness and generosity.

Sendak described himself as “the tiresome child who had to get his homework   done”, but he was only truly happy when creatively stimulated. Always   something of an outsider, he did not seek out, or appear to need, company.   Although he had a handful of good friends, he lived by himself in the depths   of Connecticut. Never trusting himself to be a good parent, dogs provided a   substitute. On one occasion, he cancelled all his business appointments for   a fortnight when one of them was due to have puppies.

In 1970 Maurice Sendak became the first American to receive the Hans Christian   Andersen Award, the highest accolade in children’s literature. He remarked,   characteristically, that it should be renamed the “Hans Jewish Andersen”   award.

He was unmarried. An illustrated poem, My Brother’s Book, inspired by his love   for his late brother, Jack, is to be published next year.

Maurice Sendak, born June 10 1928, died May 8 2012

Read this and more at The Telegraph

Killing babies no different from abortion, experts say – Telegraph

Parents should be allowed to have their newborn babies killed because they are “morally irrelevant” and ending their lives is no different to abortion, a group of medical ethicists linked to Oxford University has argued.

A group of ethicists has argued that killing young babies is no different from abortion

via Killing babies no different from abortion, experts say – Telegraph.

THIS is what moral relativism has brought us to.  It is mind-bogglingly sad.  How any human being can take such a cavalier position on this beautiful gift of life is appalling and sickening.  This should be a huge wake up call for us – to protect and defend the helpless & innocent among us.

Literal translations for the amateur grammarian

Reblogged from Grammaniac:

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I'm SO TIRED of seeing this kind of thing: "Your such a good friend!"

Hell's bells, is it really that hard to understand???

Someone once said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." I'd say it was Gandhi, but apparently his utterance of these words is debatable. Anyway, I yell at and poke fun at and criticize the people who make "obvious" grammatical errors, yet I never do anything about it.

Read more… 187 more words

Though she left out my personal most hated grammar peeve (a post for another day), this is OUTSTANDING! Read it and learn, folks.

Weekly Memes

I feel like my book blog has languished in the last three months or so, because I have not been reading as much, and because my time has been taken up with other things (my other blog, for example).  So I started searching for some weekly book(ish) memes to participate in…memes that would give me something different, but book related, to write about each day…quick & easy posts to fill the gaps between book reviews.

Here are the possibilities I’ve come up with:

Monday:  It’s Monday, What are You Reading? (hosted by Book Journey)
Tuesday:  Top Ten Tuesday (hosted by The Broke and the Bookish), Teaser Tuesdays (hosted by Should Be Reading)
Wednesday:  WWW Wednesday (hosted by Should Be Reading)
Thursday:
Friday:  Friday Finds (hosted by Should Be Reading), First Lines Friday (hosted by Literary Marie’s Precision Reviews)
Saturday:  Shelf Candy Saturday (hosted by Five Alarm Book Reviews), Quote Love (hosted at Midnight Twilight’s Book Blog - still going?), Simple Smile Saturdays (a fun idea started at Tales of a Book Lover that appears to have languished…)
Sunday:  The Sunday Salon?

Sunday is probalby going to be my off day, so The Sunday Salon is likely to be a “read only” project, and I haven’t found a weekly meme for Thursdays…yet.  If you participate in memes like the ones above, let me know which ones (if it isn’t already listed).  Tell me how you like it.  I’m not much of a paranormal / vampire lit person, but I’m open to most everything else.

Looking forward to hearing from some fellow bookish nerds!

Funniest Excerpt Ever

“S—-ing, the other day, I knew
Exactly how much I owed my arse;
The stink was so strong, so compelling, so nasty,
That my nose curled up and my ears turned blue.
Oh ! If only someone would bring me
Her for whom I long, and I sing me,
While S—-ing !”

–from Gargantua & Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais

Book Blog

I decided, after looking at my personal blog, that I needed a separate blog for all things book related.  Bear with me while I transition the book-related content from Spotts in the Valley of the Sun to Bookish Nerd . . . my new blog dedicated to all things literary.

Please visit & follow, make comments & suggestions.  I welcome input, and I hope you will find my bookish thoughts interesting.

Thanks for reading!