“Women and Children First” is composed of three different stories, all about women and family, and each story draws its poetry and lyricism from the mundane, and how much more mundane can you get then checking the voice levels at the beginning of an interview? It’s truly the stuff that ends up on the cutting room floor, but in “Concerning Breakfast” it is seized upon and used as a structuring device that bridges much emotional and familial territory. “Breakfast” is a story about one girl’s struggle with anorexia, but it’s also about the effect her illness has on her whole family, and how, motivated by love, they try to understand something which to them is impossibly mysterious.

With “Trapeze” the set-up is so cinematic: a father talks to his daughter who is hanging upside down on a trapeze. It’s an arresting image offered to us through sound and language—language that renders a moment to us without belaboring its poeticness. It is casual, everyday even, but there is something here that exists in all good poetry—something that moves us while defying summation. It’s about father-daughter love, it’s about two people seeing the world in diametrical opposition, it’s about loving your children while all the while knowing they can fly away into the dangerous unknown at any time. The writing is so pretty and the production makes it feel very real and intimate.

What is poetry, at essence, if not a record of human beings relationship with stuff. Three hundred years ago Basho wrote about putting his feet against a cold stone wall on a hot summer day and how nice it felt. Once he’d written his haiku, did he want a piece of that wall as a keepsake? Margy Rochlin explores the seeming contradiction of why some stuff in our lives has value while other stuff ceases to have value. It’s a story about making stuff matter by simply deciding that it does, the energy that it takes to do so, and whether that energy is always worth it.

Great sociology lesson. You learn a lot. But as a radio piece ... To my ear, it's a bit too much me, me, me (the reporter, that is). My thoughts. My impressions. They gather around me and shout out answers to my questions. As a listener, personally I'd much rather hear the kids. I didn't hear two kids speaking in a row until 4:30 into the piece. Then there's the section with Josh, the kid who wants to go to public school so he can meet girls. Let me hear Josh, please. Why does the reporter tell the whole story? I can see doing that in a newspaper feature, but the great thing about radio is you can capture someone's voice and, with it, their emotions and let THAT tell the story. This is a valuable slice of life that few of us know. I wish I could have experienced it with less of a wall put up between me and the individuals covered.

I enjoyed this piece as I felt that I could identify with other listeners as they confessed their crushes on Ira Glass. It was fun to listen to other TAL listeners who also succumbed to some type of infatuation with him.

This is a tasty, sound-intensive, and interesting little piece that could find a lot of potential use at stations.

The piece delivers on a very simple premise: how does food get to your plate? The producers go out with some lobster fishermen and trace the crustaceans through the process. In addition to an interesting premise, lobster fishing is a great topic to follow. The whole mechanics and culture of the lobster industry is a fascinating subject, which the producers illuminate well. The length is good, but the piece could lose a minute or so without diminishing its potential.

This light, fresh piece could be used at almost any time and could easily be dropped into a larger program. It is a great example of how a quick, unexpected piece of smart radio production doesn't have to carry the negative connotation of "filler."

The interviewer, Joey, is just as much a character in the piece as the guy he's interviewing. That's what gives this piece its fly-on-the-wall realness. It would serve very well as part of a larger exploration of the topic.

I think perhaps women would hear this story very differently than men. It's a story of trust betrayed, a trust of the truisms that keep women locked in (their) place. The piece was paced nicely and kept me engaged. The dialogue was captivating and I ended up caring greatly about the characters. I found the ending wholly unsatisfying -- which is to say, perfect for this piece. Life doesn't tie all the loose ends up in nice bows. Nice work, Sue.

Food writer and cook Ali Berlow muses on food and love and the ingredients in both. This is a thoughtful, commentary perfect for a ME or ATC cut-in or really any day part leading up to or on Valentines Day. The writing is nice, though she sounds as if she's reading more than musing. A station should add a music head and tail.

It is interesting to view life from the perspective of those people who invisibly serve us every day -- even more interesting to see how important we all are to them. (And, oh gee, I guess it might be alarming to those who'd prefer to be served by computers and would die to think someone is lingering over their little private notes.) The positive spin would be good for a Labor Day theme or for any show about customer service and service workers. The weird negative spin might be good for a show about privacy. I like the fact that it can be interpreted in 2 ways.

Technically, it is seamless. The sound is really good.

Reminiscent of Studs Turkel's 'Working', this piece takes you along on a garbage truck's rounds. You hear it, you see it, you smell it, you are there, and it's kind of exciting and fun. "Motor Mouth", our pungent protagonist, offers some interesting and valuable insights into the power of positive thinking. No narrator, which is nice. At first I wondered why the reporter didn't edit out his questions, but then I came to realize that by leaving them in he gives the audience a much more honest picture than they might have get otherwise.

Bearing witness to the forced blooming of courage in the arrid terrain of civil rights in Mississippi - O Freedom presents an intelligent document engaging me on several levels at once. The political, historical aspect albeit astonishing, crafted through testimony, is easy to take in, but simultaneously being pulled in emotionally to imagine: non-existent the most rudimentary sense of ease and safety, the courage that comes from a nauseating fear in your marrow, the impossibility to suffocate the human need to break the yoke. Black and white. What more successful documentary than one that informs your every sense?
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