Happy Hobbit Day!

Sept. 22 is the shared birthday of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, the hobbits whose big birthday party kicks off The Fellowship of the Ring, the first volume of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic tale, The Lord of the Rings.

Frodo and Bilbo Baggins

Frodo and Bilbo Baggins (Elijah Wood and Ian Holm)

At his lavish 111th birthday party, Bilbo Baggins gives his guests wonderful gifts, spectacular entertainments, and a colossal amount of food. Bilbo also gives his cousin and heir, Frodo, most of his possessions on that day, including the powerful and malevolent ring that precipitates the quest — to destroy it — that the trilogy relates.

I am just now reading The Fellowship of the Ring, for a Coursera course I am taking called “Online Games: Literature, New Media and Narrative.” With our instructor, Jay Clayton of Vanderbilt University’s English department, we’re considering LOTR and other stories as they migrate from book to film to video game. LOTR was written as a single book, but published as a trilogy in 1954 and 1955, to capitalize on the success of Tolkien’s 1937 book, The Hobbit. So we are coming up on the 50th anniversary of this influential, widely loved fantasy tale.

The Tolkien Society founded Hobbit Day in 1978. Fans of the book are presumably having parties this weekend, including the Society’s own “Oxonmoot” gathering at Lady Margaret Hall at Oxford College in Oxford, England. If you can’t celebrate this weekend, do remember to toast Tolkien at 9 p.m. your time on Jan. 3, his birthday.

My role model, Gidget

When my older sister Maryann was a teenager, she used to hide books she thought our mother wouldn’t approve of between her mattress and box spring. For me, that little space, which I discovered looking for something under Maryann’s bed one day, became my private cache of contraband. I found some of the most memorable books of my life there.

One I filched  to read was Gidget, by Frederick Kohner. I must have been about 10 at the time. Perhaps you have seen the 1959 movie, with Sandra Dee, or the TV series, with Sally Field. Gidget, the book and the movie, exposed mainstream America for the first time  to the surf culture of Southern California.

Kathy Kohner was pictured on the cover of this early copy of her dad's book

Kathy Kohner was pictured on the cover of this early copy of her dad’s book

The book was edgier than the movie, and the TV show was a wraith of the original story (though it did resurrect some characters from the novel). But even in the book, Gidget was a nice, middle-class girl. In fact, that was part of the story’s tension.

Gidget, subtitled The Little Girl With the Big Ideas, gave me some big ideas as well. The title character was an inspiration at a time when girls like me were growing up without many assertive role models.

Gidget was spunky and intense, and she made me want to get out there and pursue my dreams, which at the time I had yet to formulate. She hung out with the much older male surfers in Malibu, a pretty edgy crowd in the 1950s, because even though she was tiny, and a girl, she wanted to learn to surf. Gidget is a love story, yes, but for me, it was a thrilling coming-of-age tale about a young woman pursuing her passion for a sport and the bohemian lifestyle that surrounded it.

I learned recently Gidget is a real person, Kathy Kohner Zuckerman. “Gidget” really was her surfer nickname, combined from “girl” and “midget,” because she was short.

Frederick Kohner was a Hollywood screenwriter, a Czechoslovakian Jew who had begun his film  career in Germany and fled the Nazis in the early 1930s. Kathy, his daughter, started surfing in Malibu in 1956, when she was 15. She wanted to write about the exotic characters she was meeting, their lives and attitudes, and their distinctive jargon. Frederick Kohner told Kathy that, since he was a writer, he would tell her story for her, and he knocked out the book in six weeks. The Gidget books, all told, sold 3 million copies. At one time, Gidget was No. 8 on the best-seller list, just ahead of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, Kathy Kohner recalled in a 2011 interview with 27east.com.

Kathy Kohner started surfing to escape the disconnect she was feeling at her high school at the time, but soon enough, she said, “I got crazy about the boys.” There were a few other girls at the beach, she said, but “basically there weren’t a lot of surfers, period.”

Surfing was a brief phase in Kohner’s life. After the first summer, her interest waned. By the time somebody pinched her board in Hawaii in 1959, she thought  “Well, I lost my board, but there are other things to do,” Kohner told interviewer Caillin Riley of 27east.com.

But Kohner, who in 1999 was No. 7 on Surfer Magazine’s “25 most influential surfers of all time,” had already had a huge impact on the sport. Wannabe surfers flocked to the beach, and the relatively few young women among them could say that they had a right to be there, enjoying a male-dominated sport, because Gidget had gone before them. In 2005, “One City, One Book — Malibu,” the local chapter of a popular national literacy program, selected Gidget as its book of the year. In 2011, a documentary called Accidental Icon told “the real Gidget story.”

Kathy Kohner Zuckerman is in her 70s now and still lives in southern California. She has been married for more than 40 years, she has two children, and grandchildren, but she still understands the siren call of Malibu. As for me, I think often of the simple but exotic world she found there, which I got to enter, too, because of her, and because her dad wrote a book.

The Finkbeiner test

Longtime science writer Ann Finkbeiner wrote a terrific piece this year swearing off writing patronizing articles about female scientists, and it has been boiled down into what is being called “the Finkbeiner test.”

Finkbeiner advanced her manifesto in January in an article titled “What I’m Not Going to Do” on the blog The Last Word on Nothing*.

In March, Christie Aschwanden distilled Finkbeiner’s piece into a seven-point checklist on DoubleXScience, an online science magazine for women:

“To pass the Finkbeiner test, the story cannot mention

  • The fact that she’s a woman
  • Her husband’s job
  • Her child care arrangements
  • How she nurtures her underlings
  • How she was taken aback by the competitiveness in her field
  • How she’s such a role model for other women
  • How she’s the ‘first woman to…’

“Here’s another trick,” Aschwanden writes. “Take the things that are said about a female subject and flip them around as if they were said about a male. If they sound ridiculous, then chances are good they have no business in the story.”

I think it’s all about context. If you’re writing a breezy lifestyle story (or maybe even an obituary), the personal stuff is OK. But if you are writing essentially about your subject’s work, the Finkbeiner test should be pressed into service.

*“Science says the first word on everything, and the last word on nothing” – Victor Hugo

Of “witches,” books and rocket science

I enjoyed reading Nadezhda Popova’s recent obituary in the New York Times. Popova was one of the Russian “Night Witches,” female pilots who flew bombers, flimsy former crop dusters, during World War II.

And Quiet Flows the DonIt was a dangerous mission. German pilots who shot down one of the Night Witches, so called because of the “whooshing noise” their planes made, which evoked for the Germans the sound of a witch’s broomstick, received the Iron Cross, according to the story.

I loved that the writer, Douglas Martin, included the fact that Popova noticed a wounded fighter pilot, Semyon Kharlamov, who would become her husband, “in a horde of retreating troops and civilians,” because he was reading Mikhail Sholokhov’s And Quiet Flows the Don.

That book made a big impression on me when I read it. Its story reminded me of Boris Pasternak’s Dr. Zhivago, in that it centers on a man who is married to one woman but desperately in love with another. Instead of wealthy Russians whose lives are torn apart by World War I and the Russian revolution, though, it’s about Cossacks whose lives are torn apart by World War I and the Russian revolution. Sholokhov won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1965, though there is some controversy about his authorship.

I also liked that Martin, who got smacked around in the press for focusing on Yvonne Brill’s home life in his recent obituary of the rocket scientist who invented the propulsion system that maintains the orbit of the communication satellites we rely on on a daily basis, was confident enough in his own approach, even after that rumpus, to dwell on Popova’s private life in this story.

Though as a science writer, I am sensitive to the need to give women full credit for their professional accomplishments — usually the reason the obituary is written in the first place — the fiction writer in me believes that after 80 or 90 years, a person’s life is bound to add up to more than his or her work.

Meet the muse

Murphy the museThis is my muse, Murphy, if a muse can be male, a dog, and asleep most of the time. Murphy, a four-year-old Maltese, is many things. Yesterday he was a field zoologist. He spent the afternoon observing the feeding habits of the rabbits in our yard. If he had opposable thumbs, I believe he would have been taking notes.

Photo by Maeve Mindell