Author paul zindel biography of donald

1968 young adult novel by Paul Zindel

The Pigman is a young adult novel written by Paul Zindel, published in 1968. It is notable for its authentic depiction of teenagers, and was among the first young adult books to take the genre in a more realistic direction.

The two main characters, teenagers Lorraine and John, have opposite personalities. This dual perspective gives the reader two different sides to a story about a man they have befriended. This book would go on to win numerous awards, including the New York Times Outstanding Book of 1968, the ALA Notable Children's Book 1940–1970 the Horn Book 1969 Fanfare Honor List.

The novel is frequently assigned in elementary schools, middle schools, and some high schools for English classes. Although commonly taught, this book has been banned in certain areas for numerous reasons, some including offensive language and sexual themes. The book's sequel, The Pigman's Legacy, was published in 1980. The Pigman & Me, an autobiography by Paul Zindel, was first published in 1990; it is considered an unofficial triquel to The Pigman. Zindel wrote a screenplay, adapting the book for the stage and screen, but it was not taken up by any filmmaker.

Plot summary

When John, Lorraine, and two teen troublemakers, Norton Kelly, and Dennis Kobin, are bored, they make prank phone calls. The goal of the game is to see who can stay on the phone the longest. When it is Lorraine's turn, she picks out Mr. Pignati's phone number and pretends to be calling from a charity. After she wins the game, Mr. Pignati offers to donate ten dollars. Against Lorraine's better judgment, she and John travel to Pignati's house to collect the funds. After hesitantly accepting "The Pigman's" offer of going to the zoo, a friendship begins to blossom between the three of them. He begins to take on the role of a parental figure for the two

Paul Zindel Obituary
New York Times

Mr. Zindel had been a high school chemistry teacher for six years, demonstrating basic chemical reactions and explaining concepts like atomic numbers and covalent bonds, when ''The Effect of Gamma Rays'' opened in Houston. As with other plays that were staged before he quit teaching in 1969, he had written it in his spare time and seemed to relish his outsider status -- he never went to the theater, he said, until he was already a published playwright...

Remembering Paul Zindel
by Don Gallo

We've lost a giant in the field of books for teens. An in credibly talented person. A nutty, fun-loving, kid-loving guy. A brilliant thinker.

The New York Times obituary focused on his Pulitzer Prizewinning play, The Effect of Man-in-the Moon Marigolds, which was, of course, no small contribution to theater. But they minimized what we in the world of Young Adult Literature know so well...

Paul Zindel ‘walks tall’ literally, with very straight back and extremely careful step. And he talks as he writes – theatrically, outrageously, shockingly, disarmingly – brimming over with enthusiasm for everything, mischievously shrewd about everyone. Yet in all his movements, and his words, there is a strong inner control, as if he were measuring responses and warily observing everyone around him. (His voice is soft, his frequent laughter loud.)

There is a reason for that iron control, and for being wary of life and of people. Bizarre as are the characters and events with which Zindel’s novels are crammed, he exaggerates only slightly when he claims to write ‘only about the things I know’.

His childhood was a solitary one: two years after his birth in 1936, his mother was left by her husband to bring up Paul and his elder sister single-handed. She had to work at a variety of jobs (including nursing the terminally ill), which meant constant moving, few friends, sometimes even living in other people’s houses. (Some of this experience is recorded in Confessions of a Teenage Baboon, the writing of which brought him close to a breakdown.) Worse: I missed a father, and in many senses I missed a mother, because back then the fashion of what it was to be a divorced woman was very destructive to a child.’ His mother, sadly, died before she could enjoy either his success or the financial help it would have enabled Paul to give her.

Teachers in school, therefore, were very important to him, and it is a teacher whom he celebrates in his new book, A Begonia for Miss Applebaum. She is a composite of three biology teachers, all women, who inspired Paul to do his ‘very best’. ‘One of them, Miss Wilmot, she was a poetic biology teacher. She had an enormous amount of delicateness, sweetness, understanding of humanity and yet with the grip of knowing the solid base of science.’

His schooling was interrupted when he was fifteen by a

Remembering Paul Zindel
by Don Gallo

ALAN Review, Spring 2003

We've lost a giant in the field of books for teens. An incredibly talented person. A nutty, fun-loving, kid-loving guy. A brilliant thinker.

The New York Times obituary focused on his Pulitzer Prizewinning play, The Effect of Man-in-the Moon Marigolds, which was, of course, no small contribution to theater. But they minimized what we in the world of Young Adult Literature know so well: his ability to write novels and stories that teenagers were drawn to, especially the lonely and slightly weird kids just like Paul had been as a teen.

In recent years some educators and librarians were disappointed that Paul's work did not match what they felt was the quality of his earlier works, especially The Pigman. Novels about monsters beneath Stonehenge, raptors in the Southwest, and giant rats devouring people around New York Harbor are not the kinds of books most educated adults favor. But Paul was never thinking about educated adults when he redirected his writing. He was thinking about kids-especially those middle school boys-who usually don't like to read, who have never gotten excited by anything they had to read for school, who have never read a book cover to cover. They certainly read The Doom Stone, and Raptor, and Rat. Devoured them (a play on words that Paul would have appreciated). More recently he abandoned the monsters and produced several thrillers about a pair of teenage detectives-the P.C. Hawke Mysteries-a series of rather brief, high interest-easy reading paperback novels ideal for high school readers who might have trouble getting through The Pigman.

Paul never lost his touch. He could write for any audienceplays for the Broadway stage, fast-moving adventures for the movies, mini-series for television, picture books for children, and high interest-easy reading novels for reluctant and disabled readers. He always wrote, he said, "for those who need