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fallonc's review
4.0
In Yakich’s side of the cat-dog, he writes about a fellow passenger whom he suspected to be dangerous based on his dress and action before and in flight. But, Yakich can’t remember if this was his story or a friend’s story or a story that was made up. Maybe it is completely made up, but as a student of both Yakich and Schaberg, the stories from the book which they retell in class are consistent. From Schaberg’s stories of working in a rural airport, filled with childlike excitement to Yakich’s stories of his meditation camp where his roommate disappeared in the night, the writers craft their stories in such a way that reading about cleaning out the seatback pockets of airplanes is entertaining.
Schaberg’s side, “Checking In,” documents tasks which he preformed while working at the Bozemen, Montana, airport as a graduate student. The small size of airport required that he work many jobs—ticket counter, loading and unloading planes, cleaning the planes—and encountered many people. Schaberg creates space in his narrative for coworkers like Tom and anecdotes about his flight privileges. The reading is light and anecdotal but also inspires the reader to rethink the atmosphere of airports. For instance, Schaberg mentions bird strikes mid flight, but he invited the reader to consider bug strikes:
“Bird strikes are a popular subject raising questions if everyday danger and ecological significance. Bug strikes, on the other hand, are all but ignored, at one too small, vastly outnumbering, and myriad for most people to care about. But how many thinks do humans tune out, simply as a matter of scales?”
Yakich’s side, “Checking Out,” chronicles his fear of flying and writes in a way that even those most apathetic to flying begins questioning the human tolerance for air transportation. With excepts of historiography and memories of past flights, Yakaich’s experimental nonfiction leaves the reader breathless. Consider his final words, where he explains his final lines, where he explains how reading seems to be his only solace on planes:
“And this is where my hyper-irrationality comes in: I feel that nothing bad will happen in-flight while I’m am reading mid-sentence, and yet I don’t like to prolong mid-sentence for fear that I won’t get to the end if something bad does happen.”
Schaberg and Yakich’s collaboration is a quirky mix of happy memories and one’s greatest fear, both inspired by airports. A marvel in content and dichotomies of writing styles, “Checking In/Checking Out” reminds the reader of the power that words have to toil with your emotions. After reading, you may never look at an airport the same way again.
Schaberg’s side, “Checking In,” documents tasks which he preformed while working at the Bozemen, Montana, airport as a graduate student. The small size of airport required that he work many jobs—ticket counter, loading and unloading planes, cleaning the planes—and encountered many people. Schaberg creates space in his narrative for coworkers like Tom and anecdotes about his flight privileges. The reading is light and anecdotal but also inspires the reader to rethink the atmosphere of airports. For instance, Schaberg mentions bird strikes mid flight, but he invited the reader to consider bug strikes:
“Bird strikes are a popular subject raising questions if everyday danger and ecological significance. Bug strikes, on the other hand, are all but ignored, at one too small, vastly outnumbering, and myriad for most people to care about. But how many thinks do humans tune out, simply as a matter of scales?”
Yakich’s side, “Checking Out,” chronicles his fear of flying and writes in a way that even those most apathetic to flying begins questioning the human tolerance for air transportation. With excepts of historiography and memories of past flights, Yakaich’s experimental nonfiction leaves the reader breathless. Consider his final words, where he explains his final lines, where he explains how reading seems to be his only solace on planes:
“And this is where my hyper-irrationality comes in: I feel that nothing bad will happen in-flight while I’m am reading mid-sentence, and yet I don’t like to prolong mid-sentence for fear that I won’t get to the end if something bad does happen.”
Schaberg and Yakich’s collaboration is a quirky mix of happy memories and one’s greatest fear, both inspired by airports. A marvel in content and dichotomies of writing styles, “Checking In/Checking Out” reminds the reader of the power that words have to toil with your emotions. After reading, you may never look at an airport the same way again.
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