Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Combining memoir and reportage, Cohen provides a sensitive, intimate portrait of a New York City school for the deaf and the issues facing the deaf community. Cohen is not deaf, but her father heads the Lexington School, and she grew up there. She tracks the progress of two students: Sofia, a Russian immigrant bravely learning a second sign language and a new American world; and ghetto-raised James, who finds stability after moving into the school dormitory. Cohen analyzes the fierce debates over mainstreaming the deaf, the value of oralism and whether new cochlear implants rob the deaf of their culture. She tenderly recalls her deaf grandparents, probes her father's dilemmas, reports on her frustrated romance with a deaf man and her work as an interpreter in a program for deaf adults at the City University of New York. She portrays sign language with wonderfully tactile prose--the word "silence," for example, is signed with "austere arcs." If Cohen's narrative is disjointed, her commitment and her descriptive gifts make her book memorable.
Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From School Library Journal
YA-Cohen draws upon her experiences as the hearing grandchild of deaf immigrants to combine personal stories of hearing-impaired individuals with related aspects of deaf culture. Using her first home and her father's place of employment, the Lexington School for the Deaf in New York City, to connect characters and experiences, she shares tales of activities familiar to young adults-boring classes, the school play, selling ads for the yearbook, graduation. The only difference for these students is that they cannot hear and cannot speak the language of the hearing world. Through Cohen, readers share in the challenges, frustrations, fears, triumphs, and joys of achievement not only of these young people, but, through historical vignettes, of her grandparents as well. This perspective allows readers to determine how (or if) life has changed for the deaf in America. A careful reading of Train Go Sorry provides exposure to the urban poor and our country's many immigrants (both past and present), making this a resource suitable for sociology or history students interested in viewing the American melting pot through the eyes of a group of people with a silent past.
Janis Ansell, Tidewater Association Hearing Impaired Children (TAHIC), Virginia Beach, VA
Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Library Journal
The history of the Lexington School for the Deaf, the oldest school of its kind in the nation, comes alive with Cohen's vivid descriptions of its students and administrators. The author, who grew up at the school, follows the real-life events of Sofia, a Russian immigrant, and James, a member of a poor family in the Bronx, as well as members of her own family both past and present who are intimately associated with the school. Cohen takes special pride in representing the views of the deaf community--which are sometimes strongly divided--in such issues as American Sign Language (ASL) vs. oralism, hearing aids vs. cochlear implants, and mainstreaming vs. special education. The author's lively narrative includes numerous conversations translated from ASL. This is a one-of-a-kind book for both young and old readers. Essential for special education collections.
- Arla Lindgren, St. John's Univ., New York
Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Booklist
Leah Hager Cohen personalizes the issues facing the deaf culture by introducing their impact on her own family and the community of the Queens, New York City Lexington School for the Deaf. The characterizations of her hearing father, current superintendent of Lexington, and of her grandfather, a former student, are masterly. Throughout the book, Cohen focuses on two students whose Russian and African American roots exemplify the school's increasingly diverse population. Presenting both sides of such debates as using American Sign Language in the classroom and cochlear implants for children, Cohen truly involves readers in the problems of those she portrays. Her discussions support the existence of special schools for this group to provide for its members' particular communication and social needs. Well organized and beautifully written. Nancy McCray --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Kirkus Reviews
Clunky title (American Sign Language for ``missing the boat'') aside: a sensitive report on one year in the life of N.Y.C.'s Lexington School for the Deaf. Cohen, who teaches at Emerson College, is well situated to be Lexington's chronicler: Her father, Oscar, is the school's superintendent; her deaf grandfather, Sam, was a student there 75 years ago; and the author herself--who can hear--attended classes there as a preschooler. She writes at a time when Lexington is coming to terms with the deaf-pride movement, initiated in 1988 with a student rebellion at Gallaudet University, over the appointment of a hearing president. Lexington, Cohen says, is steering a middle course between ``hearing chauvinists'' and ``deaf militants.'' The former--who see deafness as a hated handicap-- rally around the risky ``cochlear implant,'' a new electronic hearing-device fitted in young children; the latter, who consider deafness to be an ethnic trait, oppose ``oralism'' (teaching deaf people to vocalize, long a staple at Lexington) in favor of signing. These tensions within the deaf community shoot through Cohen's narrative, which unfolds via portraits of two Lexington students (a black American and a Russian immigrant) and memories of her grandfather, whose death was accelerated by a hospital's failure to provide a deaf interpreter. On a more personal note, Cohen talks of her own awkwardness at learning sign language; the difficulties of ASL interpretation; friendships between the deaf and those who can hear; and the crisis that hearing advocates of the deaf face in an increasingly politicized climate. An intimate portrait of a tightknit subculture that, ironically, is coming of age as it shrinks in size, the result of medical advances against meningitis and other causes of deafness--a situation that Cohen terms, with typical awareness of both sides, ``bittersweet.'' -- Copyright ©1993, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Book Description
This portrait of New York's Lafayette School for the Deaf is not just a work of journalism. It is also a memoir, since Leah Hager Cohen grew up on the school's campus and her father is its superintendent. As a hearing person raised among the deaf, Cohen appreciates both the intimate textures of that silent world and the gulf that separates it from our own.
Inside Flap Copy
This portrait of New York's Lafayette School for the Deaf is not just a work of journalism. It is also a memoir, since Leah Hager Cohen grew up on the school's campus and her father is its superintendent. As a hearing person raised among the deaf, Cohen appreciates both the intimate textures of that silent world and the gulf that separates it from our own.
2006-09-13 00:24:47
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