Faster, Higher, Stronger than you

Wow. Well the Olympic ceremony definitely exceeded this cynic's expectations. It was all just so...entertaining. The fireworks, light displays and set were incredible but it was that perfectly British combination of self-deprecating humour and optimism that really swayed me. The NHS montage was a bit bizarre but as the music scenes unfolded I started to feel this unfamiliar sense of national pride creep over me.

I've heard argued that the ingrained British physical education ideologies of fair play and 'it's the taking part that matters' have hampered our performance on the world stage. Compared to societies that prize competition in sport from an early age like the U.S.A and China, our more inclusive educational approach supposedly fails to inspire and prioritise those that could become olympic athletes.

I can see the logic of this argument. When I started secondary school in the UK in 1998 I can remember P.E teachers encouraging those that excelled at athletics to compete at annual regional events. The students that broke local records were encouraged to keep competing but there was no structured programme in place to develop their talent. As a state grammar school, the overall message was that entry to university was prioritised over aspiring to being a professional athlete. P.E lessons felt like an introduction to each activity rather than an opportunity to develop your skills. I was one of the best tennis players in my class but didn't feel comfortable asking to be matched with a partner of my ability during games lessons, so just ended up knocking the ball about with my friends while we worked on our tans.

Hopefully London 2012 already has and will continue to change this, both by ploughing more money into sport development and creating visible athletic role models. The inclusion of established, retired and up-and-coming athletes in the ceremony last night reiterated that we are capable of producing brilliant and successful sporting men and women. I'd like to see more of a sense of competition and support for the strongest students introduced to state educational P.E lessons. If the current passion for sport spills over into these sessions come September then encouraging competition is surely a better motivator for less able students than limply congratulating them for taking part. Because if the most able students aren't helped to improve and praised for this, what hope is there for the others?
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Seriously, what was I thinking when I wrote this?

Just found a story I wrote in 2006. If this doesn't encourage me to start writing again then hopefully nothing will.
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On a gray Tuesday morning a Milkman was making his usual rounds. Business had been falling ever since the local Tescos store had opened, and he was busy calculating how much profit he had lost that week.
Suddenly he slammed the brakes of his electric van as a small furry animal shot out across the road. There was a sickening bump as the wheels skidded over the unlucky rodent.
As he brought the van to a halt and began to climb out he prayed it was a rat. Just as he approached the body a small girl ran out of the nearest house, crying and screaming two words at the top of her lungs. 'MY GERBIL!'
She skidded to a stop and stared at the dead animal with tears pouring down her cheeks before turning on the Milkman.
'You killed Harry!' she cried with a violent look in her eye.
'Alright, calm down little girl - I'll buy you a new Gerbil I promise. Don't cry now. Harry's gone to gerbil heaven', he pleaded.
He'd have promised anything to keep her waking the whole neighbourhood, let alone her parents. He could tell right then that this was not going to be good for business.
Just then the girl's father stomped out of the house swinging a hefty rope in one hand and pointing threateningly at the milkman with the other. He was well built and wearing a greying vest.
'What have you done?' he demanded. 'Why's my daughter...' he broke off as he noticed the squashed gerbil in the road. 'Harry?' he asked.
'Daddy' the girl cried, 'he's gone and killed Harry. Daddy, make him come back!' The father slowly lowered his arm and the rope fell to his side.
'Bloody gerbil' he muttered. 'Come on darling, I'll go and organise those horse riding lessons you've been asking for yeah? Let's go in now with the nice Milkman for a cup of tea.'
As they turned towards the house the Milkman shook his head with disbelief and followed them up the garden path. Perhaps he would keep those customers after all.
Twenty minutes later the milkman emerged from the house with a cactus plant and a bemused smile on his face. The stocky father of the little girl was an exotic plant exporter and had presented the plant as a peace offering.
Soon the Milkman was safely home relaxing and had forgotten all about the strange cactus he'd left in his van. After dinner he went to bed early faced with another early start in the morning.
The next morning his alarm roused him brutally awake at 4.30am sharp. He turned in the empty bed and realised his wife had already risen. As he walked along the corridor he noticed his young son Jamie's room was empty.
Downstairs there was no sign of life. That's strange he thought with a rising sense of panic. They can't have already gone out so early. He opened the door to look for his wife's car, only to find an empty driveway. His milkfloat was gone.
As he ran out the house dressed only in his boxers he suddenly noticed something odd. On the floor, on the exact spot where he usually parked his milkfloat, was a dead gerbil.
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Guantanamo Boy by Anna Perera

"Welcome to Guantanamo Bay Prison. You're now the property of the US Marine Corps. Heads down!"

"It's not often that Khalid can look at his life from a distance. But, instantly, he can see himself clearly for once. He's another meaningless bent orange shape dropped into some weird world game, the sun fixing him here on this lump of tarmac like a dart in his back. He's nothing but an orange heap for soldiers to toss around because they think he's a terrorist who wants to blow up cites. Think he hates the West, even though he lives there and doesn't know anything about weapons of mass destruction or bombs or buildings crashing to the ground in New York."

There’s nothing unusual about 15 year old Khalid. He’d much rather be playing a computer game than polishing his school shoes. He hasn’t got a clue how to flirt with girls, and there is no way he’s leaving England to visit his father’s boring family in Pakistan. Especially when his football team is so close to being promoted.

Unfortunately for him Khalid’s parents disagree, and they soon arrive in the bustling Pakistani city of Karachi. What Khalid finds there is far from boring. The streets are filled with whispers of U.S troops and terrorist informers, and Khalid’s worst fears are horribly realised when he’s kidnapped and detained for questioning by U.S troops.

Surely they’ll quickly realise he’s innocent and release him? They can’t possibly send a 15 year old to Guantanamo Bay. Can they?

This book combines that chilling mixture of everyday normality and unimaginable horror. It’s the kind of story that really haunts you because it depicts a horribe situation that could so easily be true. As the author notes, ‘although Guantanamo Boy is a work of fiction, it is inspired by real events. It remains a fact that children have been abducted and abused and held without charge in the name of justice in Guantanamo Bay and many other secret prisons around the world.’

I certainly couldn’t put this down. I can’t say it was always an enjoyable read, but it was definitely immersive and thought provoking. Whilst this book carries a strong and valuable political message, the overriding sentiments are that of love and the support of family and friends. Khalid is well drawn and Anna Perera does a brilliant job of persuading even the most indifferent of readers to truly care about his wellbeing. She does this subtly over the course of the story, and I found my affection for him building slowly whilst my full attention remained centred on his inhumane treatment.

Unlike many other novels dealing with similar stories of abuse, the narrative of Guantanamo Boy is lightened by lifelike humour and small acts of kindness. This contrast allows the darker moments to retain their sharpness, and it allowed me to keep reading for long periods of time without feeling emotionally drained.

Anna Perera has highlighted the importance of human kindness in a truly remarkable setting. This book needs to be in every school library.

The Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale

In a brutal and archaic punishment a beautiful young Lady is locked away in a rat-infested tower for 7 years. Her father imprisons her after refusing a favoured Lord's hand in marriage. The only one brave, or perhaps foolish, enough to accompany her to this prison is her faithful maid Dashti.

Dashti and Lady Saren live in a mystical land overseen by distant pagan gods who rule through the privileged gentry. Stripped of her family, Dashti has never known luxury and has faced a daily battle to stay alive. In contrast, Saren is a pampered princess to whom the squalor of the tower is a brutal shock.

Despite their differences the girls slowly build a routine and begin to fashion a home for themselves. At times their readiness to accept their situation felt slightly offbeat. However, it soon becomes clear that for both girls the prison develops elements of a sanctuary from the outer world as Dashti begins to suspect that Saren's extreme fear of her rejected suitor is far from natural.

Dashti is a mucker, a peasant class known for singing songs of healing. Her talent and empathy for healing the pain of others renders her blind to her own feelings and she soon becomes unwillingly entangled in a web of deceit and mistaken identities. Think Twelfth night meets Emma with a touch of Brothers Grimm.

Dashti's stubborn respect for the gentry verges on irritating and her patience with the pathetic Lady Saren is beyond understanding. This does make for an interesting take on the corruptability of religious belief but it felt overdone at times.

That being said, Shannon Hale's engaging and humorous style kept me turning the pages and the book definitely lightens up in the second half. It's a sweet story with slightly gothic moments and a few twists and turns. Would recommend if you've got a weakness for fantasy teen romance.

Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher

Clay Jensen gets mail. Mail in the form of a series of audiotapes recorded by the enigmatic Hannah Baker. Hannah is Clay's long-time crush and fellow classmate, who commited suicide two weeks earlier. Clay spends one long sleepless night listening to the tapes, and what he hears changes his life forever.

I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically; why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why.

Hannah's witty and sardonic voice is the life and soul of the book, and at times the character of Clay Jensen can seem wooden and under developed in comparison. Nevertheless, this is an easy read with emotional impact which tackles issues such as date rape and suicide in a frank and intelligent way.

Occasionally the switching between Clay and Hannah's dialogues was frustrating, mainly because Clay's voice sometimes lacked authenticity. Their story was genuinely touching however, without being overly sentimental. The premise was concise and convincing, and while the ending felt like it had perhaps stopped too suddenly, for me this just added to the tragic nature of Hannah's story.

One of the novel's best qualities is its ability to open up debate around suicide, as well as causing the reader to question how each of our actions can affect those around us. Definitely one which stayed with me long after I put it down. Worth a read.