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Checking In / Checking Out
"A trove of poignant observations and thoughtful reflections on that strangest of modern commercial flight." -- Patrick Smith, Salon.com
"So nice to hold in your hands, like a passport." -- Timothy Morton, author of The Ecological Thought
"A cool, I’d even say noble, project." --Joe Keohane, Editor in Chief, Hemispheres
Schaberg and Yakich have written the perfect airplane read. Their book is actually two in reversible. One side relates behind-the-scenes stories of an ex-employee of United Airlines (2001-2003) at the Gallatin Field Airport outside Bozeman, Montana. The other side tells the story of one man's lifelong efforts to cure a fear of flying. With sincerity and irreverence, these two tales wrestle with issues of travel, work, technology, security, faith, reading, writing, and parenthood. Ultimately, the book opens up a space between the two sides where readers can become more mindful of their own experiences of air travel.
"So nice to hold in your hands, like a passport." -- Timothy Morton, author of The Ecological Thought
"A cool, I’d even say noble, project." --Joe Keohane, Editor in Chief, Hemispheres
Schaberg and Yakich have written the perfect airplane read. Their book is actually two in reversible. One side relates behind-the-scenes stories of an ex-employee of United Airlines (2001-2003) at the Gallatin Field Airport outside Bozeman, Montana. The other side tells the story of one man's lifelong efforts to cure a fear of flying. With sincerity and irreverence, these two tales wrestle with issues of travel, work, technology, security, faith, reading, writing, and parenthood. Ultimately, the book opens up a space between the two sides where readers can become more mindful of their own experiences of air travel.
112 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2011
21 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
May 6, 2018
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.
October 15, 2012
One of my brother's books. . . so I'm biased! My review:
Reading Checking In/Checking Out made me want to stop blogging and start writing. Not because the book is anti-blog (in fact no blog is ever mentioned in the text) but because the book is such a compelling written collaboration to hold in my hands. I imagine that Checking In/Checking Out would be especially absorbing (and unnerving) read in flight, but I read it at home on the couch and even there I was completely engrossed in the book.
In Checking In, Christopher Schaberg writes a reflective narrative of his part-time job as an airport employee while attending graduate school in Montana. His observations of the world of the airport - behind the scenes - give a new dimension to the mystique and drudgery of air travel. I found his descriptions of the shift in airport culture pre- and post- 9-11 especially perceptive. Perhaps unconsciously at first, Schaberg fused his work at the airport with his work at the University - studying the environment from multiple perspectives while simultaneously doing the heavy lifting and dirty work required on the tarmac. I was taken by his unique perspective on his duties and his co-workers, combined with his adroit academic musings, in this collection of airport stories.
Checking Out, Mark Yakich's narrative of his growing fear of flight, is the perfect companion to Schaberg's Checking In. There is so much in Yakich's writing that validates Schaberg's text (and vice versa); yet neither author takes himself too seriously. Yakich takes us on a journey through his mental relationship to flight - he traces how his fear of flying grew over time alongside his need for the written word. At times it may feel like Yakich is all over the map (both literally and figuratively) in his story, yet he circles back to his fear and his point so effectively that I couldn't put the book down. Somehow his humorous accounts of panic, snippets of historical plane crashes in surprising detail, and uncomfortable personal stories are woven together to make a very compelling case for the importance of a book, a book not unlike this passport-size paperback that I can hold in my hands and tuck, reassuringly, into my pocket.
Reading Checking In/Checking Out made me want to stop blogging and start writing. Not because the book is anti-blog (in fact no blog is ever mentioned in the text) but because the book is such a compelling written collaboration to hold in my hands. I imagine that Checking In/Checking Out would be especially absorbing (and unnerving) read in flight, but I read it at home on the couch and even there I was completely engrossed in the book.
In Checking In, Christopher Schaberg writes a reflective narrative of his part-time job as an airport employee while attending graduate school in Montana. His observations of the world of the airport - behind the scenes - give a new dimension to the mystique and drudgery of air travel. I found his descriptions of the shift in airport culture pre- and post- 9-11 especially perceptive. Perhaps unconsciously at first, Schaberg fused his work at the airport with his work at the University - studying the environment from multiple perspectives while simultaneously doing the heavy lifting and dirty work required on the tarmac. I was taken by his unique perspective on his duties and his co-workers, combined with his adroit academic musings, in this collection of airport stories.
Checking Out, Mark Yakich's narrative of his growing fear of flight, is the perfect companion to Schaberg's Checking In. There is so much in Yakich's writing that validates Schaberg's text (and vice versa); yet neither author takes himself too seriously. Yakich takes us on a journey through his mental relationship to flight - he traces how his fear of flying grew over time alongside his need for the written word. At times it may feel like Yakich is all over the map (both literally and figuratively) in his story, yet he circles back to his fear and his point so effectively that I couldn't put the book down. Somehow his humorous accounts of panic, snippets of historical plane crashes in surprising detail, and uncomfortable personal stories are woven together to make a very compelling case for the importance of a book, a book not unlike this passport-size paperback that I can hold in my hands and tuck, reassuringly, into my pocket.
April 12, 2014
There's a casualness to this writing that, at best, feels like having a great conversation with a friend (albeit a one-sided one) and at worst just feels unformed, like listening to a person give a talk who can occasionally be brilliant but mostly is simply fine, and so you listen and wait for those moments. And they do arrive.
The subject matter of Schaberg's -- which chronicles his time working in airports and on planes -- interested me more than Yakich's -- ostensibly fear of flying, but it wanders around a lot (autobiography, sex, being a man).
But I should also say that the shape, size, and design of this book are wonderful, down to the rounded corners. One essay takes up one half, then you flip the book over to read the other essay. I find this delightful, and one of the main reasons I'm glad I bought this book. I also wanted to support a local press.
The subject matter of Schaberg's -- which chronicles his time working in airports and on planes -- interested me more than Yakich's -- ostensibly fear of flying, but it wanders around a lot (autobiography, sex, being a man).
But I should also say that the shape, size, and design of this book are wonderful, down to the rounded corners. One essay takes up one half, then you flip the book over to read the other essay. I find this delightful, and one of the main reasons I'm glad I bought this book. I also wanted to support a local press.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews