There are those who believe that the value of a children's book can be measured only in terms of the moral lessons it tries to impose or the perfect role models it offers. Personally, I happen to think that a book is of extraordinary value if it gives the reader nothing more than a smile or two. In fact, I happen to think that's huge.

At moments of acute joy or sorrow, men and women throughout history have sung or reached for musical instruments to express the inexpressible. When minds are taut with emotional entanglement, there seems to be an inner compulsive instinct to release and harness this tension through the measured vibrations in the air that we call music.

Garage-rock eccentric King Khan may be from Montreal, but his heart is almost a thousand miles away, throbbing from Atlanta to Castle City, Mont., until it hits cardiac arrest in Kalamazoo. Khan and His Shrines warn that this so-called 'Land of the Freak' is where only the strong survive, but it's a strength that can't be measured in muscle.

'Storm Warnings' is a poem about powerlessness - about a force so much greater than our human powers that while it can be measured and even predicted, it is beyond human control. All 'we' can do is create an interior space against the storm, an enclave of self-protection, though the winds of change till penetrate keyholes and 'unsealed apertures.'

When evaluating the players, too little emphasis is placed on the individual. Reaction times are measured, stress situations are simulated, sleep behaviour is analysed, eating behaviour, how the body reacts - everything is available. The control over the players has got out of hand. They are judged on this data, albeit subjectively. That's madness.

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