Reading Out Loud: Books, Kids, and Their Partners

In some ways, it’s a natural impulse to become the reader—to share the books you love—particularly if you have a child in your life, whether said child is yours or not.

I first read to a child while I myself still counted among their numbers. As is often the case in such cases,[*] I was babysitting a younger child who asked me to read a book I hadn’t seen in some time—a Doctor Seuss book, if I recall correctly. The teens are a bit early for nostalgia, but it reminded me of how much I loved reading Hop on Pop and other beginning reader books. It was fun to revisit an old friend and gleefully recite silly rhymes.

Becoming the Reader

In some ways, it’s a natural impulse to become the reader—to share the books you love—particularly if you have a child in your life, whether said child is yours or not. From the bookworm parent’s perspective, it’s truly a highlight to share a treasured childhood book with your child and watch that book become one of their favorites. It’s also a great opportunity to meet new books as well as catch up on books you might have missed the first time ’round.[†]

The respondents[‡] I polled about reading to children also happened to be parents, who primarily read to their children around bedtime for about 15 minutes, though one respondent ran a bit longer. Usually, parent readers take turns or allow the children to select the books. I personally like to select books when it’s my turn to read, since it’s a good opportunity to introduce books I think he’ll like as well as broaden his horizons.[§] If he expresses a preference for another book, though, I typically go with it—unless we’re reading something short because bedtime is running late!

The Kids Are Alright…with Reading Aloud

Of course, this makes me curious about what it’s like being read to from a kid’s perspective. As I mentioned in another post, I loved the story hour at my local library when the children’s librarian would read various stories aimed at younger audiences: I still recollect her soft voice declaiming words slowly enough for her listeners to easily follow along, how she looked up from reading and smiled at the gathered children. There, too, were read-along-book sets and other recorded stories I enjoyed. And my mother introduced me to the pleasures of listening to an audiobook on a car ride.[**]

Since I don’t much remember bedtime reading, I conducted an informal Q&A session with my household’s resident child. My interview revealed that he likes being read to by me, the spouse, and a close family friend, although he’s generally happy to have anyone read to him. While he didn’t choose a favorite reader on the home front,[††] I’ve learned that I do the best voices and that my spouse adds a lot of funny bits. So far, he likes that I choose stories for him, even though my spouse and he takes turns selecting books. And neither of us can keep story time to 15 minutes. A certain someone is good at wheedling for a few extra pages. In fact, he enjoyed the Alice in Wonderland so much that he’s requested that we start reading it as soon as we’re home.

And he’s not the only one who can’t wait.[‡‡]

Share your favorite childhood stories and books in the section below—I might read them to my tot soon! Also, don’t forget to sign up for the Sequence’s newsletter to keep current with the latest posts.


[*] Reading to younger siblings also counts as another common avenue. Since I’m a youngest child, that’s right out for me.

[†] As I noted elsewhere, I read A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner for the first time in 2016!

[‡] Thank you very much again, respondents!

[§] Otherwise, it’d always be The Magic School Bus stories.

[**] I was a teenager, and the book was Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier.

[††] My child, the diplomat.

[‡‡] The timely completion of this post, of course, being interrupted by said child.

Science Asides: Ethics in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

Recently, I chanced upon an Atlas Obscura article discussing lördagsgodis, the Swedish tradition of indulging in candy on Saturdays. What drew my attention, however, was that title mentioned “human experimentation”. As it happens, lördagsgodis’s roots can be traced to experiments performed on mentally ill patients during the mid- to late 1940s that established sugar’s role in cavity formation. The study, which neither benefited its patients (quite the opposite) nor obtained their consent, was not unique to Sweden.[*] In fact, its ethical issues suggested those raised in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, the tale of an African-American woman whose cells, collected without her permission in 1951, led to profound scientific discoveries. Given how deeply this nonfictional account delves into medical ethics, politics, racism, and scientific discovery as they intertwine with the lives of Henrietta Lacks and her family, I will focus on the more poignant moments that exemplify these issues.

History, Ethics, and Human Experimentation

As author Rebecca Skloot observes, patients of US public wards often were unaware that they served as research subjects, something some researchers considered to be an acceptable trade for receiving treatment (29–30). Such patients, particularly impoverished, poorly educated African-American patients living in the pre—Civil Rights era in the United States were unlikely to ask questions: the presumption that physicians “knew best” coupled with widespread racism alone prevented such a thing (Skloot 63). And before the advent of Institutional Review Boards in 1966 (Sparks 2017),[†] research involving human participants did not receive much formal oversight (Skloot 131, 136). What happened to Henrietta Lacks, specifically taking her cancer cells without her knowledge or consent, was both the norm however unpalatable we might find it.

For Henrietta, there were more personal consequences related to the treatment that permitted her cells to be collected. Johns Hopkins, the hospital where Henrietta was treated, standardly informed women of childbearing years that hysterectomy led to infertility—one of the rare instances where patients did receive adequate information from physicians in this book. And yet this did not happen in Henrietta’s case. Her records revealed that she would have refused treatment had she known (Skloot 47–8). And although she would not have lived long enough to bear another child (Skloot 86), the choice should have been hers. The tissue sample collected from this hysterectomy, however, continued to grow long past its expected life: the discovery of an immortal line of human cells had been found (Skloot 40–1).

slacks ethics microscope.jpg

Amazing Discoveries and Uncomfortable Juxtapositions

The importance of Henrietta’s cells (called HeLa) to scientific research is vast. For example, HeLa played a large role in proving that Salk’s polio vaccine worked—and it was African-American scientists and technicians who produced the massive quantities of HeLa cells needed to do so (Skloot 93–7). Yet this achievement also represents one of the most painful juxtapositions in The Immortal Life: the HeLa factory was located at The Tuskegee Institute, a place better known for its infamous syphilis study involving African-American men.[‡] The terrible disparity between HeLa’s role in saving the lives of so many people—regardless of their racial background—and the unnecessary deaths of African-American people is more shocking when you consider that twelve of the Tuskegee study participant’s children still receive benefits (CDC 2017).

Disclosure and Family Distress

Not long after Henrietta was identified as the HeLa “donor” in the early 1970s, the Lacks family discovered that her cells were still alive, a revelation they did not understand and found alarming (Skloot 173, 175–81). Further interactions with researchers did little to improve their understanding. When researchers obtained blood samples from Henrietta’s family to establish genetic markers for HeLa, the Lacks family thought they were being tested for cancer (Skloot 180–4). More alarmingly, the resulting study published Henrietta’s name with her genetic information (Skloot 197–8). And more medical information was revealed about Henrietta without consulting the Lacks family. In the 1980s, her medical records were published, something which caused immense grief for Henrietta’s daughter, as Deborah read intimate details about her mother’s diagnosis and the anguish she suffered before her death (Skloot 209–10). Other family members, however, were angered by the profits made by biomedical companies while their family remained impoverished and could not afford health insurance (Skloot 168, 193).

Thoughtfulness and Modern Ethics

And this is perhaps the most concerning theme that The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks reveals: thoughtlessness. Mary Kubicek was an assistant who was sent to collect tissue samples during Henrietta’s autopsy in 1951. Unaccustomed to dealing with dead bodies, she focused her gaze away from Henrietta’s eyes. Then, she noticed Henrietta’s painted toenails and realized that Henrietta was an actual person, not just a collection of cells. It was something she had not considered before. It’s astonishing how many researchers (most but not all of whom were white) echoed this refrain and never thought about whether patients and/or their families might have concerns, even after ethical standards were changed. And this best represents what was most needed here, for researchers to think of Henrietta Lacks as a human with rights instead of as HeLa’s source. To think of all patients involved in research as people first.

* * *

Originally, I intended to end where the book does, with the emphasis on the need to see patients as people instead of mere study subjects. Instead, I discovered something of an unpleasant (if unsurprising) postscript: the Lacks family again needed to protest the public distribution of information about Henrietta. In 2013, the European Molecular Biology Laboratory published the genome of a line of HeLa cells to an online database that allowed public downloads of this data. Although no laws were broken (Callaway 2013), it seems the researchers did not consider the ethical implications of making genetic data  publicly available that could be potentially reveal private information about Henrietta’s family (Skloot 2013). The database subsequently was removed and the National Institutes of Health, who also planned to publish a similar paper, established a review board (that includes two of Henrietta’s family members) to determine who will gain access to this genetic information in the future (Zimmer 2013). While this hopefully will provide Henrietta’s family with much needed closure on this topic, questions remain about how geneticists should handle such sensitive data for other patients.

What response did you have to Henrietta’s story? Share it below in the comment section. Also, sign up for the Sequence’s newsletter and keep current with the latest posts.


[*] Elsie Lacks, Henrietta’s daughter, resided at a facility for mentally ill patients where medical experiments were carried out on the African-American patients living there, again without consent. She likely was a study subject. She died in 1955 (Skloot 274–6).

[†] HeLa also played a role in the formation of these boards. The discovery that researcher Chester Southam had been injecting HeLa cells into patients (roughly half of whom were diagnosed with cancer) without disclosure and consent caused a scandal that prompted the National Institutes of Health to create these boards (Skloot 127–36).

[‡] This study’s notoriety primarily stems from (but is not limited to) the fact that researchers purposefully withheld treatment from patients afflicted with syphilis long after a cure was developed in 1947. Ultimately, most patients died terribly, with many having infected both wives and children (Skloot 50, “Tuskegee Syphilis Study” 2017, CDC 2017).

Works Cited

Callaway, Ewen. “HeLa Publication Brews Bioethical Storm.” Nature (2013): n. pag.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 08 Dec. 2016. Web. 25 Feb. 2017.

“Tuskegee syphilis experiment.” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 20 Feb. 2017. Web. 25 Feb. 2017.

Glasser, Hana. “An Adorable Swedish Tradition Has Its Roots in Human Experimentation.” Atlas Obscura. N.p., 04 Jan. 2017. Web. 25 Feb. 2017.

Skloot, Rebecca. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. New York: Broadway Paperbacks, 2011.

Skloot, Rebecca. “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, the Sequel.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 23 Mar. 2013. Web. 26 Feb. 2017.

Sparks, Joel. Timeline of Laws Related to the Protection of Human Subjects. National Institutes of Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, n.d. Web. 25 Feb. 2017.

Zimmer, Carl. Zimmer, Carl. “A Family Consents to a Medical Gift, 62 Years Later.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 07 Aug. 2013. Web. 26 Feb. 2017.

Writing Molly Weasley: How Rowling Knit Kindness into Her Character

Although Ron isn’t an especially sensitive soul, he still shares at least some of his mother’s compassion for others, the very compassion that prompted her to knit a sweater for Harry.

As I wrote in my first essay on hobbies, I find how fiction writers portray hobbies in their stories fascinating because (I’m quoting myself here) “hobbies represent a versatile means of characterization that can make a character more complex or succinctly communicate certain ideas about the character—almost like shorthand—that inform character behavior and even the narrative itself.” Given this versatility, authors include character hobbies to accomplish diverse goals in their text.

Magical Hobbies

Early in the Harry Potter series,[*] J. K. Rowling introduces hobbies in several interesting ways. Nicolas Flamel, a character who is discussed but never appears in the book, is an opera lover (220). Providing him with a hobby gives readers a glimpse of his personality while preventing this cameo character from being one-dimensional. In contrast, other hobbies help develop the plot. The Famous Witches and Wizards Cards (found in packets of Chocolate Frogs) represent a magical version of trading cards. While their presence doesn’t reveal much about the children collecting them,[†] Rowling’s inclusion of this hobby is inspired because such cards are natural things for children to collect—as Ron and Harry do—and it allows her to interject information into the narrative as needed. When Neville gives Harry a card for his collection, Harry discovers why the name Nicolas Flamel seemed familiar. As a result, the trio (Harry, Ron, and Hermione) finally find out what is being hidden at Hogwarts: the Philosopher’s Stone (102–103, 218–221). The most intriguing use of hobbies in this book, however, involves character development. In this second essay of a series that explores how writers employ hobbies in their writing, I will discuss how Rowling uses knitting to further illustrate aspects of Molly Weasley’s character.

Meeting Molly: Setting Character Expectations

yarn-and-knitting-needles-rowlingBefore we discuss the role of knitting, it’s useful to examine Harry Potter’s first encounter with Molly. Meeting the Weasley family at Kings Cross Station was more than a fortunate solution to Harry’s difficulty in finding his way onto Platform 9¾ (91–93). Rowling uses this scene to introduce several important characters to the series (among them Molly Weasley) and create certain expectations of them. When Harry approaches Molly for assistance, she correctly determines that Harry is new to Hogwarts and needs help without him needing to say very much. This episode demonstrates that Molly (accompanied by five of her own children) is quite proficient at sorting out children’s needs, even when the child is not hers. She kindly points Harry in the right direction and he soon is on the platform. Shortly thereafter, we learn that Molly did not recognize Harry before Fred and George informed her of his identity (97), which establishes that her choice to aid Harry represents her normal behavior versus an attempt to ingratiate herself with a famous individual. Furthermore, Harry also overhears her ban Fred and George from asking potentially painful questions about his past as well as forbid Ginny from taking a gander at Harry. Given that celebrities tend to be treated as objects of curiosity instead of people who might want their privacy, Molly’s actions here represent an act of empathy. From this brief appearance, then, we expect Molly Weasley to be maternal, kind, and empathetic.

With this sketch of Molly’s character established, Molly exits the text until the final chapter. The remaining information we learn about her is gleaned from Ron’s remarks, most of which occur during the train ride to Hogwarts. The pertinent points here are that the Weasley family is far from wealthy, hence Ron’s secondhand belongings and bagged lunch—which, of course, includes Ron’s least favorite kind of sandwich. Charitably, Ron credits his mother with being too busy looking after the five children to recall his food preferences (99–101).[‡] Although these details are minute, they establish important information about Molly and set the parameters of what her hobby will reveal about her. When authors use hobbies to provide additional character exposition, the hobby in question either disrupts our expectations of the character or complements them. Rowling chooses to complement Molly’s character, thus giving her a hobby that suits her circumstances. Since Molly is quite busy (and occasionally frazzled by) caring for her several children, her hobby needs to be practical and inexpensive. Additionally, a hobby such as knitting is an excellent way to supplement a tight clothing budget, especially since some items may be reused for younger children (scarves, mittens, hats, etc.). Knitting also permits generosity. For gift givers on a budget, a handmade item (such as knitted one) represents an affordable gift that is useful to the recipient.

Both Gift and Character Revelation: The Weasley Sweater

Yarn and knitted itemsWhen we next hear about Molly, it’s during the chapter on the Christmas holidays—when her hobby makes its debut in the series.[§] Harry, Ron and his brothers signed up to stay at school over the holidays. On Christmas morning, Harry received a Weasley sweater accompanied by delicious homemade fudge.[**] It’s a small moment in the story: Ron is a bit embarrassed that his mum made Harry a sweater, while Harry thinks it was nice of her.

Yet, it is an important moment in several ways. Molly, despite other demands on her time and finances, makes Harry a gift. Why? Because Ron let her know of Harry ’s potential for a present-less Christmas (200). Although Ron isn’t an especially sensitive soul, he still shares some of his mother’s compassion for others, the very compassion that prompted her to knit a sweater for Harry. This small gesture, therefore, further illustrates that Molly’s examples of kindness and generosity set the tone for her children. Whether it’s Fred and George helping Harry load his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express (94) or Percy offering Harry endless advice about wizarding chess on Christmas Day (204), the Weasley children seem prepared to help others and share what they have.

Also of note, Molly’s decision to gift Harry with a Weasley sweater marks the moment when Harry begins his transition from family friend to honorary family member. While Fred and George agree that their mother makes more effort when knitting a sweater for someone who isn’t family, they nonetheless ensure that everyone, Harry included, wears their Weasley sweater and eats together because “Christmas is time for family” (202–203).[††] With the exception of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry hereafter spends his Christmas holidays in the company of the Weasley family, collecting a new sweater with each passing year.

Knitting: How a Hobby Develops Character

Rowling’s use of Molly’s hobby in the first Harry Potter novel expands our knowledge of this character a great deal beyond her initial portrayal. We not only witness her generosity and compassion, but also see how her influence shapes her children’s generosity and kindness. The sweaters she knits, which the twins describe as “warm and lovely” (202), symbolizes her love for her family. Thus, her gifting Harry with a sweater can be viewed as her extending that maternal love to him. Rowling’s thoughtful placement of this hobby, therefore, allows her to shape expectations about this character both here and in the stories that follow.

What’s your favorite hobby in the Harry Potter series? Share in the comment section below! Also, don’t forget to sign up to the Sequence’s newsletter to keep current with the latest posts.


[*] Unless otherwise specified, I will be referring to events in the first Harry Potter novel. The edition cited here is:

Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. New York: Scholastic Press, 1997.

[†] Since Rowling’s goal is plot development instead of character exposition, this makes sense. However, it’s likely that Harry’s interest in these collecting cards stems from their novelty and that they provide him with more information about the wizarding world.

[‡] It’s also the reason why his sweater is typically maroon (200).

[§] Intriguingly, I don’t believe we ever see Molly knit in the books (unlike other knitters in the series), even though her knitting is mentioned in most of the books. If I’m wrong, let me where I can find her knitting!

[**] I’m using the term “sweater” as it is a universally accepted term for this garment (in American English, “jumper” refers to a dress).

[††] Molly couldn’t have said it better.

Public Reading: For the Love of Libraries

We were book lovers, so we went to the library as often as we could: After all, it felt like another home.

“I always knew from that moment, from the time I found myself at home in that little segregated library in the South…I always felt, in any town, if I can get to a library, I’ll be OK.” –Dr. Maya Angelou[*]

As a child, I inhabited my hometown’s library. I swept through the familiar stacks, seeking books I hadn’t yet read or favorites to re-read. In the background, I could overhear my mother discussing my reading level with the children’s librarian. The same librarian hosted the story hour. She’d sit nearly surrounded by a semi-circle of children, showing us the pages as she slowly read them aloud. Afterwards, I could check out as many books as I could carry—and I frequently needed to tuck the stack under my chin to avoid dropping them.[†] I finished roughly half of the books before my mother drove us home. We were book lovers, so we went to the library as often as we could: After all, it felt like another home.

Literary Libraries

Of course, I found echoes of myself in books featuring other bookworms and the libraries in which they lost themselves, the librarians which they befriended. My favorite part of Robin McKinley’s version of the Beauty[‡] and the Beast story involved reading.[§] The novel features a bookish heroine who marvels at the books she finds in the Beast’s library, some of which have not yet been written.[**] Considering how many times and how long I’ve waited for sequels to be published, I’m confident that this magical library is a bookworm’s dream. In the Discworld series, however, it’s not only possible to find books that have yet to be written but also to travel through time and to different places through L-space (that is, library space).[††] In some way, I’ve always felt this to be true of reading. How often had I found myself lost in book only to surprised when I became aware again of my actual surroundings? And these novels also feature the Librarian of the Unseen University, once a human wizard who found key advantages in being transformed into orangutan.[‡‡] Never saying much more than “Ook”, he manages to communicate his meaning all the same and he’s good to have on your side. His unique approach to helping is entirely in keeping with what I know of librarians, all of whom work hard to serve the public.[§§]

The Power of Real Libraries

And if libraries mean the world to a someone whose childhood was reasonably comfortable, imagine the difference they make to children with different backgrounds. Dr. Maya Angelou spoke of her first library as a soothing balm, the kind that helped her find her words again and her vocation. For another young woman, libraries acted as an equalizer. Although she could not afford to buy books the way her friends did, her free public library card permitted to read nonetheless. Even coming from a family that collected books, I know there’s many books I would not have read without this free access. And libraries don’t just hold books. Poet/filmmaker Greta Bellamacina shared that libraries provided a quiet place to study that her home lacked. Libraries provide safe places.

For these reasons, I feel dismay whenever I read about efforts to defund public libraries. Since I’d personally prefer that Fahrenheit 451 remain a work of fiction,[***] I urge readers to get out and support our community libraries and fund groups that protect libraries. I would like my child to continue reading all those books eagerly, after story hour, the way I did. I’d like all children to have that second home to visit.

Have a favorite librarian or library story? Share in the comments section! Or better yet, support your with a donation! Also, don’t forget to sign up to the Sequence’s newsletter and keep current with the latest posts.


[*] Library, The New York Public. “Interview: How Libraries Changed Maya Angelou’s Life.” The Huffington Post., n.d. Web. 11 Feb. 2017. <>.

[†] Naturally, this librarian also ran the summer reading program, which I read for the way some kids train for sports.

[‡] Technically, her name was Honour, but she got herself nicknamed “Beauty” as a young child by insisting she’d rather be called beauty. Of course, the name stuck, which made her awkward teen years so much more…awkward.

[§] McKinley, Robin. Beauty: a retelling of the story of Beauty & the beast. New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1978.

[**] For the record, this novel predates the Disney film.

[††] Pratchett, Terry. Guards! Guards! New York: HarperTorch, 2001.

[‡‡] Obtaining books from the top shelves features highly on this list.

[§§] Although, their approach involves less implied violence.

[***] Not to mention The Handmaid’s Tale and 1984.

Setting the Table for Family Drama: Writing Dinnertime Conflict

When it comes to stirring the plot, the familial dining table provides numerous opportunities for writers to use this setting to do as much or as little as they need it to do.

Among the most commonly occurring and underrated settings employed in fiction is the dining table. The dinner table serves more than (hopefully) good eats: it provides both place and reason for characters to be together. Relatively few limits exist for such gatherings. The dinner table accommodates routine meals but also can expand (with a leaf or two) for a holiday party or become several tables at an awards ceremony. Locations also are flexible: I’ve recently set the opening of a story at a patio table during a birthday barbecue. Impromptu celebrations such as promotions, too, might result in an outing to a favorite restaurant. Since mealtimes can occur at any point in the plot, so long as it makes sense for people to eat, the dinner table represents one of the most versatile settings that writers can use to creates scenes, forward the plot, and/or explore the central problem of a story. While these tables can appear in innumerable story types, I will discuss how a few of my favorite authors set the table when writing about families.

Mischief Managed: Rowling’s Kitchen Table

For these stories, setting the action at the dinner table can be quite natural. After all, families often are urged to dine together: shared meals are touted for strengthening familial bonds as well as providing a host of positive benefits. And who wouldn’t want to dine with their loved ones? However, even tight-knit families experience their moments of discord. Featured prominently in the Harry Potter series, the Weasley family is considered a loving one.[*] Harry Potter’s first breakfast at their home, however, is rather tense. Concerned that Harry hadn’t replied to their letters, Ron, Fred, and George Weasley decide to use their father’s enchanted car to rescue Harry from his relations (it was a cloudy night) and sneak him into their home undetected. Unluckily for them, Mrs. Weasley observes both absent boys and car and upbraids all parties for their irresponsibility save the relatively blameless Harry. Mrs. Weasley is somewhat mollified when her sons tell her of Harry’s hardships, but she isn’t one to let them escape having any consequences because their intentions were good: they have chores to do. She sends them outdoors to sort out garden beds before they get the chance to nap. (Rowling 24–41).

Rowling accomplishes quite a lot in these pages besides removing Harry from an unpleasant situation (and thus moving the plot forward). Harry, long accustomed to his aunt’s and uncle’s tendency to condone and excuse his cousin’s bad behavior while punishing him for mere infractions, sees Mrs. Weasley appropriately scold her children for engaging in a risky activity. His subsequent meals at the Burrow, where he is welcomed at the table and in which Mrs. Weasley attempts to feed him up (the Dursleys begrudge him every morsel ), are new experiences for him.[†] Escaping to the Burrow introduces Harry to how loving families work. More telling, though, is the contrast that reader sees between Harry’s home life, which is arguably neater, wealthier, and unhappier (Rowling 1–42). Rowling underscores the point that judging people’s worth by mere appearances or their wealth is fallacious. What makes people worthy is the how they treat each other. It’s little wonder that Harry would rather spend his summers in the happy chaos of the Burrow.

Mystery, Misery and Murder at Christie’s Banquets

Manor house banquet tableFor unhappy families, however, the potential for tension at the table is extensive. Agatha Christie, a master of the manor house mystery, frequently seats her characters at a banquet table. Since her mystery novels often involve the murder of a wealthy benefactor to various family members (money and resentment making excellent motivations), mealtimes can be quite intense. The dinner table, being an obliging sort,[‡] works as both setting and opportunity for narrative exposition. In “The Second Gong”,[§] dinner guests and family members alike almost race to the dinner table to ensure they arrive punctually because their host, Hubert Lytcham Roche, notoriously despises lateness. His tardiness is so unprecedented that his guests and butler are stunned and hardly know how to proceed. Shortly thereafter, they find Hubert dead. Here, the table works in two ways: it reveals aspects of Hubert’s character (his controlling, unyielding nature) and gathers all the principal suspects together. In A Pocket Full of Rye, however, the dining table serves as the murder scene: Rex Forestcue, a rather nasty man, is poisoned during breakfast whilst surrounded by suspects—er, family members—all of whom had both motive and opportunity to kill him. In novels such as The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Christie uses the dinner table to review the case and acquire background information: Captain Hastings, a guest at Styles Court, and Hercule Poirot discuss the murder of Emily Inglethop during breakfast on at least two occasions, which affords Poirot the opportunity to question persons present about events surrounding the murder (for which he was not present) and gather clues.

Gaiman: What the Monster Made for Dinner

Of course, not every family need be wealthy (or murderous) to be unhappily seated together at the table. From the outset of The Ocean at the End of the Lane, it seems clear that the seven-year-old protagonist’s parents don’t relate to their bookish boy. Neither mentions his kitten’s death after it occurred, not even to offer consolation. The boy doesn’t share his disappointment about receiving the unsuitable replacement cat with them, anticipating (correctly, I suspect) that his parents won’t understand that the hurt remained new cat or not (Gaiman 14–16). During another incident, his older self (who narrates the events) observes that he only consulted adults as a child when he absolutely must (Gaiman 63), suggesting that the boy already expects adults to be reluctant to help him. Understandably Gaiman’s protagonist is terrified when he realizes that his new childminder is an actual monster. He sits at the dinner table on two occasions, hungry but afraid to eat what the monster made for supper (Gaiman 82, 90–92). Beyond their immediate horror, these moments reveal a larger pattern in the novel: the powerlessness of children. It’s all too easy for the monster to portray the boy as truculent, making his protests seem…childish. The boy, already aware of how easy he is to discredit, knows he cannot expect his parents to believe or assist him. Gaiman captures this bitter aspect of childhood, its impotence, and allows it to be the force that drives his narrative by seating a child at a table.

Setting the Table for Family Drama

When it comes to stirring the plot, the familial dining table provides numerous opportunities for writers to use this setting to do as much or as little as they need it to do. It can serve as a mere setting, providing the appropriate backdrop to the story at hand or cleverly reveal information about characters. Often, scenes from a dining table allow writers to connect to larger themes they explore, both for their stories about families and elsewhere. As such, it might not be such a bad idea to set characters down for something to eat and see what happens next.

Do you have a favorite mealtime scene from a story or book? Share what you liked about it in the comment box below. Also, sign up for the Sequence’s newsletter and keep current with the latest posts.


[*] At this point, the Weasley family’s problems lie more with financial constraints and the odd personality clash versus actual deep disagreements with each other.

[†] Harry, much like Jane Eyre before him, represents a tragic form of the poor relation: the orphaned and presumed penniless child required to live under the guardianship of uncaring relations.

[‡] Unlike the murder victim.

[§] For anyone besides me experiencing a bit of literary déjà vu with this story, it’s useful to know that Christie later rewrote and expanded this story, which she called “Dead Man’s Mirror”. I’m working with the original because I like its simpler plot. Having said that, Christie’s work can feel familiar in places because she reuses elements such as nursery rhymes (“Sing a Song of Sixpence” is one I’ve noted in a few stories), themes, and motivations (typically, money).

Works Cited

Christie, Agatha. The Mysterious Affair at Styles: the First Hercule Poirot Novel. New York: Berkley , 1990.

Christie, Agatha. A Pocket Full of Rye. New York: Signet Book, 2000.

Christie, Agatha. “The Second Gong”. Witness for the Prosecution, and Other Stories. New York: Berkley , 1984.

Gaiman, Neil. The Ocean at the End of the Lane. New York, NY: William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2016.

Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. New York: Arthur A. Levine , an imprint of Scholastic Press, 1999.


“Hidden Science” in the Writings of Franklin & Conan Doyle

Men of method: Franklin and Conan Doyle

Benjamin Franklin. By Joseph Duplessi [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
It was my first year of graduate studies, and I found myself re-reading The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Some time had passed since I read this book in depth,[*] but certain portions remained clear enough in my mind, including Franklin’s ambitious and tongue-in-cheek project to acquire virtues in Part II.[†] As I read through this section, I felt a growing sense of familiarity that was related less to the content and more to the structure of the writing. Franklin’s project followed a pattern that I’d become familiar with while pursuing that other undergraduate degree:[‡] scientific methodology. Reading Part II of The Autobiography was not unlike reading a scientific paper: there was a section on the background and the project’s goal (“moral Perfection”; Franklin 1383), defined terminology, methods delineated (working on acquiring a single virtue on a weekly basis and recording instances of success/failure); results presented and discussed, and a conclusion or two (Franklin 1383–91), ranging from “I think I like a speckled Ax best” (Franklin 1390) to:

But on the whole, tho’ I never arrived at the Perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was by the Endeavour made a better and a happier Man than I otherwise should have been, if I had not attempted it (Franklin 1391).

Obviously, the project to acquire virtue wasn’t, per se, a scientific experiment, but it bore the hallmarks of one.

Elated that I observed something I previously hadn’t noticed, I wrote my short paper for the upcoming class with a reference to my discovery and mentioned it during my brief presentation. I, however, did not expect to be asked which approach to the scientific method had Franklin favored. My professor posed an excellent question, considering that the 17th and 18th century scientific thinkers were in the process of disputing more ancient methods (namely, Aristotelian) for deriving facts (Weinberg 201-14).[§] I, however, knew more about applying the basics of scientific methodology than its history.


Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Photo by Walter Benington (RR Auction) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Curiously, though, this experience—that is, the feeling I’d come across a familiar format— recurred when I re-read A Study in Scarlet for a recent post. Again, I felt as though I was reading about Sherlock Holmes conducting a scientific study in which he carefully observed the crime scene’s grounds (Conan Doyle 23–4), collected data (measurements at the murder site as well as examination of the murder victims; Conan Doyle 26, 29, 56–7), and even tested his theory that the first murder victims was poisoned (Conan Doyle 58–9). But, there it was: a sort of literary déjà vu featuring the scientific method. While I’m sure I understood that Holmes was both methodical and logical in his approach to detection, I doubt I noted the specific scientific underpinnings in Holmesian detective fiction when I was reading the stories in my early teens. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing I would have considered independently when I was intent on consuming as many mystery novels as I could. And I certainly didn’t have the same ability to read critically as I do now.

Of course, detecting  the presence of scientific ideas in the writings of scientific men (Franklin, a scientist and inventor, and Conan Doyle, a medical doctor) isn’t unexpected, particularly with two individuals whom share the distinction of forwarding scientific study. Conan Doyle’s fiction anticipated the usage of methods that would become central in forensic sciences (eg, preserving footprints, protecting the crime scene from contamination)[††] and inspired forensic science pioneers like Edmond Locard (Steenberg 35).[‡‡] In Franklin’s case, the study of electricity benefited greatly from his attention to it (Chaplin), to put it mildly. Nonetheless, uncovering these connections between very different people writing for very different purposes was satisfying. I wouldn’t go so far to claim that I’ve seen further than some, but perhaps further than I once did.[§§] And I do feel a bit like a sleuth for detecting evidence of scientific thought.

Have you experience literary déjà vu or found some interesting scientific ideas in unexpected texts? Share your experiences below! Also,  sign up for the Sequence’s newsletter and keep current with the latest posts.


[*] High school to be exact.

[†] Spoiler: It’s my favorite part.

[‡] For the curious, I have an undergraduate degree in Literature and one in Environmental Studies.

[§] Numerous sources discuss this critical change in scientific thinking, including the one I cite here (as a physicist, he brings an interesting perspective to exploring this history ). The scientific methodology has a long history and, of course, will continue to evolve as scientific discoveries and thought require it to do so. The link I provide depicts a concise timeline of important known events, dates, and person contributing to this evolution.

[**] Based on my limited research, I’d (tentatively) go with Francis Bacon. Franklin already was familiar with the self-improvement plans of notable intellectuals, including Bacon who was likely the most influential (Lemay 39). Considering that Bacon favored experiments to establish facts (empiricism), I think this dovetails neatly with Franklin’s process here. Oh, and not having an answer didn’t have any negative consequences for my classwork; it was just embarrassing.

[††]  Holmes use of footprint evidence seems amazingly prescient when you consider the SoleMate database of shoe prints.

[‡‡] He apparently encouraged his students to read Holmes stories.

[§§] I’m cheekily referencing Newton’s famous quote: “”If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.”

Works Cited

Chaplin, Joyce E. “Benjamin Franklin’s Science—In Public and Private.” Benjamin Franklin’s Science—In Public and Private. N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Jan. 2017.

Conan Doyle, Sir Arthur. Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories, Volume 1 and 2. 1920. Reprint. New York: Bantam Classics, 2003. Print.

Franklin, Benjamin. The Autobiography. In: Franklin, Benjamin. Writings. Ed. J. A. Leo Lemay. New York, NY: Literary Classics of the United States, 1987. Print.

Lemay, J. A. Leo. The life of Benjamin Franklin: printer and publisher, 1730–1747. Vol. 2. Philadelphia, PA: U of Pennsylvania Press, 2006. Print.

Steenberg, Lindsay. Forensic science in contemporary American popular culture: gender, crime, and science. New York: Routledge, 2013. Print.

Weinberg, Steven. To explain the world: the discovery of modern science. New York: Harper, 2015. Print.


Writing and the Art of Paper Craft

What my hobby taught me about my writing.

There should be a limit to one’s ability to feel embarrassed by juvenilia and other potentially cringe-worthy work. Like that first poem I wrote and work shopped, if it still existed anywhere.[*] And yet early efforts in some ways, whether they subsist only in one’s memory or in actual, viewable format, possess a certain strength in their imperfection—something I’ve recently discovered by reminiscing other artistic endeavors:

I vividly remember my first camera, how it felt: the textured red plastic case with the smooth black cord I now would call a wristlet strap.[†] Its rectangular flash stick—my camera didn’t take cubes, which I felt were far cooler. I was ten or thereabouts. I kept most photos, even bad ones, in an album that had sticky pages with plastic covers. With age, the glue became visible wherever photos weren’t. Somewhere along the line, I learned about acidic (not archival) paper. I did not necessarily become better at photo taking.

By high school/college, I switched the photos to an album now called a scrapbook. It had manila pages and clear photo corners, which I found disappointing. I thought the pages and corners would be black, like the scrapbooks of yore, the kind my grandparents remembered from their youth. Removing the old photos proved to be challenging. They’d peel and tear on occasion, the cantankerous, yellowed glue refusing to graciously cede its grip. This time, I added some captions, school awards, and the like.

One of the bad but interesting photos: the double exposure makes it look like a great spirit horse decided to join us on the ride. (Photo by R. Gould.)

It didn’t occur to me that I was revising my first draft. (I still kept many of the bad photos because they were all I had or were wrong in the right way. Because sometimes, mistakes[‡] can be cool.)

Side projects, both sweet and hilarious, informed my process. My friends and I decorated clipboards for each other using photos, magazines, stickers, and contact paper. Concepts from collage shaped my scrapbook. How these projects somehow gave me permission to make my own wedding invitations,[§] and how I never questioned that I could do so even though I’d never created cards previously.

(I sketched designs and found instructions on the Internet, and I made every last invite, with half the tools and knowledge I have now. There are a few mistakes, but fewer than I’d guessed there’d be.)

I’m working on new projects, considering re-doing a few old albums with the more modern approach I currently use. I worry if my projects are too conventional, my captions too cute and canned. I’m working up some new phrasing. I’m an editor, after all.[**]

And somehow this proves that even when I’m not writing, there’s this writerly quality to what I do and that I improve, try new things, and find surprising measures of success that sometimes make me amazed that I did what I did. Then, this epiphany clicks: my older writing is just that—older. It’s only a step in the process of becoming a better writer.

What projects inspired your writing or changed how you saw your work? Share your thoughts in the comment section below. Also, sign up for the Sequence’s newsletter to keep current with the latest posts.


[*] It doesn’t. I checked.

[†] Of course, no photos of this long-gone camera exist, which amuses me because I remember it more clearly than some of the events my 110 recorded.

[‡] Mistakes or errors are signposts to success. They point where you need to change direction, learn more, or just try harder.

[§] Permissible but not by my any means sensible. Hating every over-the-top romantic and/or too expensive card that felt very much unlike us also fueled this decision.

[**] I re-read my posts and fix the tiny grammar errors. Yep, editing all the way out the door and to the store.