We All Need an Education, but not Necessarily a School

A review of "Educated" by Tara Westover (click for a sneak peek).

I believe Tara Westover still loves her parents very much because by having published "Educated", she ends up acknowledging that their mental survivalist parents provided them with some kind of instruction that in the end can be considered part of what makes her who she is. I say "mental" because that is what they were or still are: absolutely crazy, especially his zealot loud father who smells government complots in any public service provided by the state and who believes blindly that the Holocaust never took place. In a few words, we can say that this memoir is a narration of the life of a successful woman despite her survivalist parents who ended up shunning her from the family.

Most times your parents will want the best for you and will do costly sacrifices in order to make sure that you succeed in life. Genius will at least be acknowledged and your parents, even if they are extremely poor, will try to ensure you have got an education, and when I say education, I mean the fact that most parents will send you to school or will devise a plan to exploit your talents. Tara Westover's parents had three exceptional kids, there was even one who taught himself calculus! Yet, they never got any praise for it, and there was never any intention of making sure they attended school and later university. Her father took them out of school and isolated them at Buck's Peak due to his concerns over the influence the external world would have had in their family's minds.

However, that was not all. Her parents decided to let another nuts in their family loose and mistreat their daughters, Tara and Audrey. He was physically abusive and threatened them with death several times, but her parents always played the "look away" game. I must confess I do not understand their reaction, it just slips away from my imagination. I am a father, and I do not think I would act in the same way Tara's father did unless I had a mental disease, which seems to have been the case. She actually suspects he suffers from bipolar disorder, though his "symptoms" sometimes resemble schizophrenia. Anyway, I also believe this book is a good example of how religion rots and ruins everything. Religion does not create strong links, it only creates divisions and hatred, something Mr. Westover seems to have plenty of it, though he was "blessed" with understanding loving children.

In conclusion, we can sum up this book in just a few phrases. This memoir is a beautiful touching "devotional book" that works as a testimonial test that celebrates and acknowledges the power of education to open the eyes and change people's lives. However, education must not be confused with schooling, it goes beyond the brick and mortar boundaries of such an institution. Being educated means being able to see what lies beyond the mountain, and what is hidden beyond the stars. That is the reason why education cannot reconcile with religion. Religion is dogmatic and it always has right or wrong answers. Being educated is a neverending race for enlightenment, a race to understand ourselves and understand and accept the others.

UNA HIJUEPUTA PERDIDA DE TIEMPO

Click para leer las primeras páginas de la última novela de Vallejo

El primero de mayo fuimos a la Feria Internacional del Libro de Bogotá y mi esposa Mónica le compró a su hermana el libro más vendido de la feria: "Memorias de un hijueputa" de Fernando Vallejo. Antes de que el libro volara a su destino final, decidí ver que nos tenía de nuevo el septuagenario más políticamente incorrecto de Colombia, y la verdad es que su última obra es la mismo de siempre, una gran decepción. Con su verborrea característica y estridente, Vallejo esta vez tiene nuevas víctimas: la clase política colombiana y a algunos escritores que sin mofa confunde. ¿Cómo olvidar cuando afirma que el escritor Abad (a quien llama huerfanito) es el autor de "Sin tetas no hay paraíso"? Fernando Vallejo parece ya no tener nada que ofrecerles a los lectores, solamente su coprolalia venenosa que cada vez me resulta más aburridora. Sé que en el pasado lo consideré un maestro de la literatura, pero en este última "novela" su prosa parece desgastada, ilegible y rutinaria. La escritura de Vallejo ha logrado alcanzar su transformación final y ahora es semejante a su dueño: un viejo cascarrabias odioso de quien todos se ríen, pero que nadie toma en serio.

Esta novela de Vallejo es un intento burdo de crear la típica historia latinoamericana de un tirano, de un dictador déspota que hace y deshace y logra torcer el mundo a su antojo porque todos siguen sus caprichos. Supongo que Vallejo tuvo como ejemplo de este tipo de historias a "El Otoño del Patriarca", otra novela caótica, pero mucho mejor lograda que la del escritor paisa. Cuando Vallejo trata de convencernos de que quien cuenta sus memorias es un exdictador loco que se dirige a su secretario Peñaranda, el libro fluye y divierte. Porque a pesar de todo Vallejo es divertido, aunque de una manera tan cruel que le gana tantos adeptos como detractores. Pero cuando Vallejo pierde el hilo de la narración y olvida que aquella voz en primera persona debe ser aquel personaje que nos propone desde la página 1 y se dedica a importunarnos con sus opiniones estúpidas, la novela se convierte en un sancocho indigerible, una diarrea mental estrepitosa de la cual yo debía tomar distancia cada veintena de páginas para no sentirme saturado ante la cantaleta de aquel vejete solitario, a quien imagino sentando en una mecedora, sacudiendo el puño al aire mientras a su alrededor el mundo cambia.

A pesar de este estilo gastado hasta el cansancio, Vallejo sin embargo ha cambiado un poco, y creo yo que ha cambiado para mal. Su prosa es descuidada, brinca de un lado para otro sin llegar a un punto. Vallejo además no muestra, sólo nos cuenta todo lo que ha hecho este memorialista loco, o lo que dice haber hecho. Hay un par de chispazos, pero también apartados tan desgraciados que dan pena. Un caso que merece atención especial es cuando suelta su pluma y deja coger ríos de tinta contra los médicos por matasanos, o cuando se atreve a afirmar que el SIDA es una enfermedad inexistente para hacerle dinero a las compañías farmacéuticas. De esta manera, Vallejo se une al pequeño grupo de intelectuales, con Foucault, que negaron la existencia del VIH. Sería interesante que Vallejo muriera de la misma manera que el pensador francés, víctima de una enfermedad a la cual se atrevió a negar sin poseer conocimientos médicos. 

En conclusión, creo que leer a Vallejo es un retroceso para un aspirante a escritor. Su prosa se ha tornado en una verborrea pestilente, sin ruta a seguir. Da tumbos como un borracho senil intentado levantarse un domingo al mediodía para buscar sus calzones. Vallejo estos días da pena, lo único que queda de aquel brillante escritor de "El desbarrancadero" es su humor jocoso y cruel y esos pequeñísimos pasajes que se quedan en la memoria y que valdría la pena recrearlos. Entre ellos me quedo con la página 51, en la que fusila a los cuatro más grandes hijueputas que ocuparon la presidencia antes de que un golpe militar catapultara al poder al tirano loco que dice ser el "dictador" de estas memorias. "Y ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta...Fueron cayendo y de hijueputas los cuatro pasaron a cadáveres" dice de César Gaviria, Andrés Pastrana, Álvaro Uribe y Juan Manuel Santos. Sin embargo, no hay más que se pueda rescatar de su última novela. Incluso el lenguaje es descuidado y hay una selección de palabras bastante inapropiada y a veces extraña, supongo que ya nadie se atreve a editar a Vallejo como se solía hacerlo.  Una hijueputa pérdida de tiempo, con tantos libros para leer y tan poco tiempo, hay más de dónde escoger. Larga vida a Vallejo y su espíritu odioso y pedante. Un 2.0 de 5.0, por divertir a ratos.

A Song for Mother’s Day

What I think about “Bird Box” by Josh Malerman (click for a sneak peek)

Before becoming an international sensation inspiring a well-regarded film produced by Netflix, Josh Malerman was the lead singer and songwriter of an internationally unknown rock band called “High Strung”. I can affirm without a doubt that Bird Box is a love song, a song appropriate for the date: Mother’s Day. More than a horror story, Bird Box is an epic song about a mother and mother’s power of love overcoming a difficult world, a devastating reality to find a better place for their children. Mallorie is a real mother, an ass-kicker, the mother that everyone would have loved to have. I think that Sandra Bullock’s relationship with the children looked completely empty on the screen, she was just a figure of authority that the children obeyed because they did not want to be hurt. Malerman’s Malorie is more powerful, she is a semi-goddess entity, she goes beyond her own senses in order to give their children a safe spot, a safer place to grow and experience a bit of joy and hope. It is a shame that Netflix was not able to show us that, it may have to do with the medium, I guess.

I believe that this story suffers when it is shown as a film. It is a song, it is a fairy tale, it is better told with words, it is better told with a bit of tragic rock music played in the background, but on the screen, it lacks something that makes it powerful, that makes it notably strong and immersive. I have never been much of a film viewer, I admit. I learned to read stories and read them aloud when I wanted to feel the tension the protagonist was feeling, when I wanted to experience the horror the characters of the stories were passing through. This story works better in the paper, like many other stories. A couple of months ago, I heard a lot of complaints about One Hundred Years of Solitude being produced for television by Netflix. They commented on the impossibility of bringing the story to the screen, and the fact that it was going to be the version of the director, the writer and the people involved in the production.

Yet, this happens all the times. Sometimes with excellent results, sometimes with crappy awful outcomes. I am not saying that Netflix’s Bird Box is rubbish. I actually think it is an engaging story with a strong lead actress, but there were so many decisions that changed the way the story was narrated, that I believe affected how strongly I felt identified with Malorie. Malorie is a better person in Malerman’s little world. Malorie is a mother, a trainer, a leader, a fighter, maybe too heroic for the screen. She has got a fierce fight with wolves to protect the boat and continue their journey! A couple of close encounters with the creatures, very close and uncomfortable! A daring move to solve the mystery of who Gary is and why he seems to be acting all the time. There are a couple of things that were adapted better for the screen and make for a smoother audiovisual product. Malerman’s book is not perfect, but for a first published novel is as good as it gets. In addition, I found it for only $30, 000 Colombian pesitos at the FILBO in Bogotá. Highly recommended. 4.5 out of 5.0

EMBRACE AUTODIDACTICISM AND DROP SCHOOL

EMBRACE AUTODIDACTICISM AND DROP SCHOOL

A review of "The Case Against Education" by Bryan Caplan (Click here for a sneak peek)

I know it is kind of weird that a person like me, with more than six years of university studies, affirm that pursuing further studies is a complete waste of time and money, but this is exactly how I feel these days, and I think that for the very first time in my life I am completely sure about something. Most people should not go to university, and even for very good students, attending postgraduate school can end up being worthless. I am not against people who feel studying give them some kind of sense to their lives and valuable personal pursuit. I am just against those people who go to university and decide to take a course of studies because they see everyone else is doing the same. What is the point of going to university if you do not feel it is even the place where you are supposed to be? If by the end you will not get much of it? In addition, what if I told you that I am not the only person who feels that way. Professor Bryan Caplan believes that we should carefully re-evaluate the role of the university. He actually goes beyond and decides to go after high school as well. After all, there was so much content in school that we have not used since those days, and which did not prepare you in any way to post-graduate life.

In "The Case Against Education", Caplan states that we should be better off if we just had less of it. Most of the material that is considered important to instruct in high school and the university is completely useless and does not provide any valuable skills to the workers of the United States. I say the United States because Caplan analyses the case he is most familiar with, which is the education system in North America, taking advantage of his position as an economics professor. Defenders of humanities might argue that university was never thought to be a way of providing students with the skills they might be required in order to do a job, but we have to make sure that in the modern world, where lots of people seem to be rushing to college to get a degree in anything, (How many degrees are offered by universities these days, anyway?) the value of a college diploma has fallen deeply and we seem to have lost the high standards that were required of any student, to be granted their degree.

I am an English language instructor at a university in Bogotá, and I have been an eyewitness of these phenomena. Classrooms are packed with unmotivated students who are eternally bored and do not see a point in anything. Whenever I have a frank chat with them, I notice that most of them have no idea about what they want for their lives. They just enter a university because that was what was expected. Finish school, go to college, pay prohibitive amounts of money to get a piece of paper that says that you may be qualified for a job you will have no idea about how to do until you start doing it. I think I am not exactly against education though, but against the schooling system itself, and the way it has turned into another gold digger for the big capitalist.

Caplan believes that most of us would be better off if subsidies for education were completely dismounted and we encouraged a big percentage of the population to go to a vocational school. After all, only a small percentage of the population will really use what they are being taught in the classrooms these days.  He believes that there is an excessive emphasis in intellectualism in most university courses and that the whole concept of attending school for another three or four extra years (in Colombia it can even be five) is a waste of money and time. I think the same way. Don't misunderstand me. I believe in education. I believe that it can actually liberate you or at least it can turn you into a smarter person. However, I also believe that just two out of ten people (this figure can actually be smaller) are college material, and even these highly intelligent people might not get much out of post-graduate training. Knowledge is no longer out of your reach. There is a wide range of resources on the web and in public libraries. You no longer need to pay abusive amounts of money to learn something you feel passionate about. I embrace Caplan's view on the case against formal education, but at the same time, I celebrate the freedom to be an autodidact and make the most out of the rich access to the information we have got these days. I invite everyone to use the web to do more useful things than just checking social networks. Learning what you never learnt in school and focusing on your passions can be a positive step towards that kind of education you have been chasing since that very first moment you decided you needed more education, but less school.