The Mechanic & the Muse

From Africa, a boy soldier's tale

One of the treasures of Portland, Ore. is Powell’s Books, with what seems like million miles of book shelves, a literary labyrinth you can happily get lost in.

Powell’s connects those of us not lucky enough to be in the neighborhood with a monthly newsletter. My favorite element is the interview with an author. Here’s the a sketch about this month’s author and his book:

“Ishmael Beah became a soldier at age thirteen, one year after rebels attacked his village, flushing him into the forest to survive as a fugitive with other boys his age. In ”A Long Way Gone,“ Beah describes Sierra Leone's civil war as he knew it, entirely absent of political context. Kill or be killed — these were a homeless orphan's options. "Told in clear, accessible language by a young writer with a gifted literary voice," Publishers Weekly raves, "this memoir seems destined to become a classic." On the eve of publication, Beah discussed rehabilitation, forgiveness, hip-hop, moving walkways, and more.”

Read the interview here

It’s less about writing, but more about the tragic madness ongoing in Africa, a young stranger’s response to the West that lightens his account of “ a drug-filled life of casual mass slaughter ”

“When I got on a plane the first time and we landed at Schiphol Airport, I was already so out of it. I thought I was dreaming up the whole thing, being on a plane. We got off at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam, and they had those... what do you call it? You know, like the escalators but flat?

Dave Welch: Moving walkways.

Beah: The moving walkway. I remember when I went back to Sierra Leone I told my uncle, "They're so improved, they make the ground move.”

Say it again, Sam.

So I’m driving to work the other day and a news report about the death of famed  50’s crooner and songwriter Frankie Laine  comes on the radio.

A phrase jumps out. “In a prepared statement, the family said... .”

“Prepared statement?

What’s the converse: an ”unprepared“ statement.

My colleague, style watchdog Scott Libin, wondered if an unprepared statement requires that ”the words would appear in random order.“

There seems no doubt: prepared statement is redundant. Limit it to ”statement.“ You lose none of the meaning and trim your story by a word.

Stay alert for redundancies in your prose, omitting those speed bumps that distract a listener/viewer/reader.

p.s.I initially described Scott Libin as ”ever-vigilant language watchdog.“ But watchdogs, by their very nature, are expected to be ever-vigilant, as opposed to asleep at the switch. Out went ”ever-vigilant,“ The meaning’s preserved while the story is a two-word hybrid shorter.

You can listen to samples from Laine's "Greatest Hits" album on this amazon.com page.

Plagiarizing imagery

Say the word "plagiarism" and names like disgraced New York Times reporter
Jayson Blair, and chick-lit author  Kaavya Viswanatha come to mind.

It's unlikely  the names Horst and Daniel Zielske ring a similar bell.

But according to an eye-opening slideshow by David Segal that's this morning's centerpiece on Slate.com, the Zeiskes have also been accused of purloining the work of another. I

n this case, the theft includes not words but images, and the victim is not a writer but a visual artist.

"Can Photographers Be Plagiarists?" is also an excellent example of the way that text and images married in a slideshow can be a powerful story, produced outside the traditional box of story and photos displayed in discrete fashion, detached from each other.

What do today's (online) journalists need to be taught?

“Looking for Web journalism teaching tips,” is the title of this interesting forum posted last month on Online Journalism Review (ojr.org).

It was kicked off by Mac Slocum, a veteran online editor and producer and web journalism teacher, who observed that “ Web journalists are often expected to have at least a rudimentary understanding of Web technology, so it's important for journalism educators to provide future journalists with the skills necessary to succeed in the Web environment.”

Sounds reasonable, until you’re faced with tough questions provoked by that philosophy.

“How do we avoid the allure of technology?” Slocum asks. “How do we make sure that the elements of journalism continue to be the focus, even as we teach students HTML, Flash and other tech-centric subjects?”

The answers, from a-half dozen teachers--and one j-student--range from the philosophical to the practical.

They should be required reading for journalism deans, professors, and students who share a common challenge, whether they think of themselves as online journalists.

We are all navigating between the time-honored verities of journalism education and ever-changing technologies that not only change the way news is gathered and delivered, but profoundly alter the way we think about the practice of journalism.

I found the questions and answers they generated thought-provoking and look forward to more posts.