Rick Hanski- Short for “Richard,” this name comes from the German elements “hard”, meaning “brave” or “hardy”, and “ric”, meaning “power” or “rule”, together forming the meaning “brave power.” This name meaning definitely suits Rick because he is one of the bravest soldiers in Vietnam, and definitely the bravest soldier in this book. He stands above Cody, Twenty-Twenty, and even the sergeant in my opinion because he has a courage deep inside him that surpasses all the rest. At one point in the story, he even faces certain death with a rifle pointed in his face, and he does not fall. With a little bit of help from his dog, he stands tall and comes out the victor. He is able, in his own unique way, to prove to those who doubted him and didn’t believe in him that he is capable of being strong and courageous.
On the other hand, this meaning isn’t exactly perfect for Rick because in spite the description of power his name gives, Rick has never had any confidence in his abilities, and neither has anyone else. Everyone in his life, even his family at times, has told him that he will never amount to anything and that he could never be someone. He has no power, he never has, and he knew that until he did something about it, he never would. For this reason, he joined the army to prove them wrong, and as a one-in-millions soldier under the command of a sergeant, he does just that.
Willie- William comes from the German name Wilhelm, composed of the elements “wil”, meaning “desire”, and “helm”, meaning “protection.” I’d say this name is very fitting for a kid like Willie because he really does desire protection like his name says. This sort of trait is shown through his affection and love for Cracker. Willie loves Cracker not only because she is his pet, but also because she makes him feel safe and protected, and that’s is the kind of thing that a young boy needs in his life. He needs to feel secure so that he may know no limits as to what he feels he can do. Cracker gave that kind of feeling to Willie.
Until Cracker was forced to leave, Willie, in a way, depended on her to keep him safe. However, after she is gone, he must learn to take care of himself a little bit more. For this reason, by the middle of the book and definitely at the end, Willie gains the ability to be strong on his own, and it is through this acquired strength that he is able to give up Cracker to an owner whom he knows will love Cracker as much and as well as he had, if not better. That is why I also feel that this name is not perfectly suited for Willie. He changes over the course of this story into someone who no longer requires protection.
Cody- This name comes from the Gaelic surname “Mac Óda”, meaning “son of Otto”. After some further research, I discovered that the name “Otto” is derived from the German name “Odo”, which means “wealth” or “fortune”. A final analysis concluded that the name means “son of wealthy king”. I don’t know whether or not this name suits Cody because he isn’t focused on a lot in the book (but he’s one of the only characters with a first name). I suppose he could be wealthy, in a sense, because he leaves the army with his life, and when you’re out there that’s the greatest wealth you can have.
Yet at the same time that this is true, Cody is not the son of a king, or at least I’m pretty sure he’s not because it doesn’t mention him as royalty in any way in this book, which is why the name is also not very fitting. Cody is a normal, middle-class person as far as the book says, and he is in no way a man of power in the book. Like Rick, he too is a lowly soldier under the command of a more powerful sergeant. He has neither a wealthy father nor a powerful one (as far as one can tell), so although he is wealthy in some senses, monetarily, he is not.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
"Cracker: The Best Dog in Vietnam" by Cynthia Kadohata - Book Review
Cracker: The Best Dog in Vietnam by Cynthia Kadohata. Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2007.
Genre: Historical Fiction
This story stars Firecracker, or “Cracker”, for short, an incredibly intelligent and sly German shepherd, and Rick Hanski, a young man who has never had any confidence in himself throughout his life. When Cracker’s owners’ landlord says the dog has to go, Cracker is signed up to be a war dog and taken away to an army base to be trained. It is there that she and Rick meet. Rick has joined the army to prove to everyone who didn’t believe in him that he can do something great. At first, Cracker thinks herself too good for him to be her master, and she doesn’t care to show it. It takes a lot of discipline, but the two become friends, and by the end of the book, inseparable. They go through some tough times together. At one point, Cracker becomes lost in Vietnam, and Rick feels lost without her, but they are reunited. On more than one occasion, she saves his life. The ending of the story was very satisfying, but I won’t reveal it to any potential readers of the book.
“In December 2005 I read John Grogan's Marley & Me, never putting it down once started. And in February 2007 the same thing happened with Cracker! I applaud the spirits of both dogs and the skill with which the authors have depicted them.”
-Patsy Side, of Teenreads.com
The really unique thing that I found with this book was that it was told through the perspective of Cracker, a dog, which gives the whole story a very playful mood about it. It’s as if a child is telling the story. The narrator’s limited knowledge leads her to believe that when something doesn’t seem right, it is someone else’s fault, or that there are no exceptions to things that always seem routine. In this way the story is given a dash of humor in addition to the drama and emotion of the plot. It was this style of writing that intrigued me when I picked up this book in Barnes & Noble and flipped through it, and it was interesting enough that I purchased it. It takes a good author to do that, and Cynthia Kadohata did it. I’ve never read another book where anything like this has been done. Of course, there probably are more books told through the perspectives of animal protagonists, but this is the first I’ve seen, and it pulled me in like the moon to the tides.
“Grrrr! For I am the all-powerful Cracker! Cracker spotted a bird carcass lying in the alley. She picked it up between the tips of her front teeth and flipped it into the air, growling as it sailed above her. When it plopped down, she pushed at it with her paw, She growled more, then leaned the side of her head on the asphalt, staring right into its face. It might have been dead for a week, but who cared? She would kill it again. That’s how powerful she was. She hopped to her feet to attack it—and spotted a mouse! Alive! This was for real! She took off.” (Page 1).
This story was very interesting for me to read because not only did it teach me both about the controvertible methods of war dogs and how they were treated back in Vietnam, but also about how love, friendship, and bonding can overcome anything, including the horrors of war. I myself have never known the joy of having a dog as a friend. My family had a Dalmatian, which they gave up when we moved to our new house. I was two, and it’s as if we never even had her, because I have no memory of her whatsoever. For this reason, I enjoyed reading this book and imagining the powerful bond between Rick and Cracker, and how impressive it must have been to see the two of them fighting side-by-side in a war where all hope seems lost. It was an awesome book, and I would recommend it to anyone who loves animals, war, history, or happy endings. The story compiles all four in a magnificent way that made me want to read it again and again. Two thumbs up!
Genre: Historical Fiction
This story stars Firecracker, or “Cracker”, for short, an incredibly intelligent and sly German shepherd, and Rick Hanski, a young man who has never had any confidence in himself throughout his life. When Cracker’s owners’ landlord says the dog has to go, Cracker is signed up to be a war dog and taken away to an army base to be trained. It is there that she and Rick meet. Rick has joined the army to prove to everyone who didn’t believe in him that he can do something great. At first, Cracker thinks herself too good for him to be her master, and she doesn’t care to show it. It takes a lot of discipline, but the two become friends, and by the end of the book, inseparable. They go through some tough times together. At one point, Cracker becomes lost in Vietnam, and Rick feels lost without her, but they are reunited. On more than one occasion, she saves his life. The ending of the story was very satisfying, but I won’t reveal it to any potential readers of the book.
“In December 2005 I read John Grogan's Marley & Me, never putting it down once started. And in February 2007 the same thing happened with Cracker! I applaud the spirits of both dogs and the skill with which the authors have depicted them.”
-Patsy Side, of Teenreads.com
The really unique thing that I found with this book was that it was told through the perspective of Cracker, a dog, which gives the whole story a very playful mood about it. It’s as if a child is telling the story. The narrator’s limited knowledge leads her to believe that when something doesn’t seem right, it is someone else’s fault, or that there are no exceptions to things that always seem routine. In this way the story is given a dash of humor in addition to the drama and emotion of the plot. It was this style of writing that intrigued me when I picked up this book in Barnes & Noble and flipped through it, and it was interesting enough that I purchased it. It takes a good author to do that, and Cynthia Kadohata did it. I’ve never read another book where anything like this has been done. Of course, there probably are more books told through the perspectives of animal protagonists, but this is the first I’ve seen, and it pulled me in like the moon to the tides.
“Grrrr! For I am the all-powerful Cracker! Cracker spotted a bird carcass lying in the alley. She picked it up between the tips of her front teeth and flipped it into the air, growling as it sailed above her. When it plopped down, she pushed at it with her paw, She growled more, then leaned the side of her head on the asphalt, staring right into its face. It might have been dead for a week, but who cared? She would kill it again. That’s how powerful she was. She hopped to her feet to attack it—and spotted a mouse! Alive! This was for real! She took off.” (Page 1).
This story was very interesting for me to read because not only did it teach me both about the controvertible methods of war dogs and how they were treated back in Vietnam, but also about how love, friendship, and bonding can overcome anything, including the horrors of war. I myself have never known the joy of having a dog as a friend. My family had a Dalmatian, which they gave up when we moved to our new house. I was two, and it’s as if we never even had her, because I have no memory of her whatsoever. For this reason, I enjoyed reading this book and imagining the powerful bond between Rick and Cracker, and how impressive it must have been to see the two of them fighting side-by-side in a war where all hope seems lost. It was an awesome book, and I would recommend it to anyone who loves animals, war, history, or happy endings. The story compiles all four in a magnificent way that made me want to read it again and again. Two thumbs up!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Short Story - An Angel's Kiss
An Angel’s Kiss
I can scarcely recall the deafening thunder of the grenade that was cast bewteen us that night, its fiery heat, or its reflection in the deep wells of Patrick’s eyes as it cut a wall of burning air between us, rocketing stones, shards of glass, and shrapnel in all directions like bullets. Had I not obtained the fortune to be tripped by a rock, causing me to fall down a steep escarpment only seconds before, I would have faced its cloud of fire dead on. Instead, the Lord chose Patrick to experience that malignant fate. As I shielded my head from a shower of ramparts, I watched through watery eyes and blurred vision as Patrick fell to the ground, his head slamming into a small boulder and his eyes never leaving the bright planet he had only moments ago been observing. When the dust settled enough that I could make out his limp figure amongst the rubble, I lifted myself onto my feet and limped over to wear he lay, my right leg bleeding rather badly.
I collapsed next to him, the stones and rubble clunking about me, and, as anyone would do in such a situation, grabbed hold of him and began repeatedly saying his name, gasping for air. His gaze remained fixed on Venus, the brightest object in the sky that night, for the moon was nowhere to be found, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the bottom half of his body disseminated across the street in numerous pieces. I kept my gaze on his filthy, handsome face, his small nose, and his chapped lips. I almost wanted to laugh, because aside from the hemorrhage that now flowed from his left temple, he looked exactly as he had in our history class only a few weeks before; the same features, the gray eyes, the matted brown hair, except now he looked helpless, paltry, and the deep pallor of his face gave him a ghostly cantenance.
“David,” he whispered in a voice so raspy I could barely make out my own name. “David, I… I want you to tell my momma that I’m sorry I yelled at her before I left. I love her and I didn’t mean what I said to her, 'bout her caring too much.”
Hot, stinging tears that left clean streaks on my dirty cheeks escaped from my eyes, and my breaths were quick gasps as I replied, “I will, Pat, you know I will. Your momma knows you love her, nothin’ll change that, no matter what, ya hear? You’re gonna be all right.”
“All right?” Patrick upbraided, his eyes finally moving to me. “Look at me. I’m done. I’m spending my last few seconds in this life with you. I don’t want you lying to me.”
“I didn't mean now,” I breathed, holding his chest, my hands being stained by his blood. "I meant... soon."
“Cremate me, Dave,” he gasped after a long pause. “Let the fire finish its work.”
I nodded, knowing full well that he was going to be dumped into a ditch with a hundred other corpses.
“Do you think,” he began, his eyes returning to Venus, “Do you think… do you believe in God, Dave?”
“’Course I do,” I answered.
I can scarcely recall the deafening thunder of the grenade that was cast bewteen us that night, its fiery heat, or its reflection in the deep wells of Patrick’s eyes as it cut a wall of burning air between us, rocketing stones, shards of glass, and shrapnel in all directions like bullets. Had I not obtained the fortune to be tripped by a rock, causing me to fall down a steep escarpment only seconds before, I would have faced its cloud of fire dead on. Instead, the Lord chose Patrick to experience that malignant fate. As I shielded my head from a shower of ramparts, I watched through watery eyes and blurred vision as Patrick fell to the ground, his head slamming into a small boulder and his eyes never leaving the bright planet he had only moments ago been observing. When the dust settled enough that I could make out his limp figure amongst the rubble, I lifted myself onto my feet and limped over to wear he lay, my right leg bleeding rather badly.
I collapsed next to him, the stones and rubble clunking about me, and, as anyone would do in such a situation, grabbed hold of him and began repeatedly saying his name, gasping for air. His gaze remained fixed on Venus, the brightest object in the sky that night, for the moon was nowhere to be found, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the bottom half of his body disseminated across the street in numerous pieces. I kept my gaze on his filthy, handsome face, his small nose, and his chapped lips. I almost wanted to laugh, because aside from the hemorrhage that now flowed from his left temple, he looked exactly as he had in our history class only a few weeks before; the same features, the gray eyes, the matted brown hair, except now he looked helpless, paltry, and the deep pallor of his face gave him a ghostly cantenance.
“David,” he whispered in a voice so raspy I could barely make out my own name. “David, I… I want you to tell my momma that I’m sorry I yelled at her before I left. I love her and I didn’t mean what I said to her, 'bout her caring too much.”
Hot, stinging tears that left clean streaks on my dirty cheeks escaped from my eyes, and my breaths were quick gasps as I replied, “I will, Pat, you know I will. Your momma knows you love her, nothin’ll change that, no matter what, ya hear? You’re gonna be all right.”
“All right?” Patrick upbraided, his eyes finally moving to me. “Look at me. I’m done. I’m spending my last few seconds in this life with you. I don’t want you lying to me.”
“I didn't mean now,” I breathed, holding his chest, my hands being stained by his blood. "I meant... soon."
“Cremate me, Dave,” he gasped after a long pause. “Let the fire finish its work.”
I nodded, knowing full well that he was going to be dumped into a ditch with a hundred other corpses.
“Do you think,” he began, his eyes returning to Venus, “Do you think… do you believe in God, Dave?”
“’Course I do,” I answered.
“Do you think he’s gotta place for me in Heaven, all nice and happy?”
“I know he does, Pat, I know it,” I answered, sobbing. “You’ll be whole, and comfortable, and satisfied. And your daddy’ll be there waiting for ya.”
“I… wish I wasn’t going there, Dave,” he cried, his voice getting louder as tears washed his face as well. It was as if they were purifying him, as if he were already crossing into the light of the Lord. His eyes appeared brighter than usual, as if the fire of the grenade was still burning away. “I don’t wanna go yet. I don’t want it to be my time. I never got to see the ocean. I never told a woman I loved her. Oh Dave, if I could do it all again, right now, I’d take back every bad thing I said to my mamma. Oh mamma, don’t cry for me. Don’t weep, don’t mourn. Be happy that I’m with my daddy again. We’ll go fishin’, just like we always did on the weekends when I wasn’t in school. We’ll toss the ball like he always wanted to do, even though I never wanted to. Oh, it was all he wanted, I just didn’t wanna. I’m sorry Daddy, I’m sorry…”
He trailed off, Venus glowing in his pupils, his face shining from a combination of tears and his own blood. His cheeks seemed so much thinner than normal, so gaunt and hollow, and his chest continued to undulate like a swift sea.
Finally, he looked at me again. “Oh, Davey,” he gasped. “Love your momma, respect your daddy, and tell a woman you love her. See the ocean for me, go there with her some day, and think of me.”
I nodded, sobbing harder than ever, my hands shining red from his blood.
He looked back at Venus for a moment, and then he grabbed hold of my chest and pulled me so close to him that I could see each hair that made up his eyebrows. “Listen to the wind… and hear every angel’s whisper… and..." He stared off into space for a moment, and then looked back at me for a final time. "...and stand in the rain… so that I can make each raindrop… an angel’s kiss.” For a moment, it was as if I saw a flash in his pupils, and then his grip loosened from my shirt, he eyes went back to Venus, and he became still.
For a long time, I laid there with him, promising to him and to myself that I would fulfill his wishes, tacitly and honestly. I looked up at Venus just as he had done, trying to remember the little anecdote he’d been telling me just before the flash of the explosive. I couldn’t even begin to recall what it was about.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and black clouds slowly covered the bright planet above me. Raindrops began to pelt my face, cleaning my cheeks completely, and washing my leg so that the blood was gone, revealing a very minute cut just below my knee, and alleviating the pain. I sat there for as long a time as I’ve sat anywhere, the gunfire, explosives, and screams echoing in the distance until they didn’t exist anymore, and I let my body soak in the rain, each drop, I knew, an angel’s kiss.
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