Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Literacy is the Most Direct Route to Freedom (Links Edition)

Hey! I’m having a super-busy day and didn’t get a chance to write up a blog, but I thought I’d provide some links to great information on banned books and other people working to raise awareness.

http://www.bannedbooksweek.org/

http://www.ala.org/ala/issuesadvocacy/banned/bannedbooksweek/index.cfm

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/29/the-11-most-surprising-ba_n_515381.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banned_Books_Week

http://www.banned-books.com/

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Literacy is the Most Direct Route to Freedom (part 2)

It's banned book week! I thought I'd celebrate by reviewing some banned or challenged books this week by writing reviews of them here in my dusty old blog. I'll try to get you five by the end of the week. Today I’ll talk about The Giver, a book I read for the first time and in one sitting this weekend. It’s been on the list of high-frequency challenged books for over a decade now, and was number 11 on ALA’s list of “Most Banned Books of the 1990’s.”

I firmly believe that everyone should read a dystopian novel at least once a year. I never feel more appreciative of the beauty of human life, nor more aware of the danger of losing it than when I have recently polished off a really good dystopia.

Like many Dystopias, the Community in The Giver is presented first as a peaceful utopia: main character Jonas is brimming with anticipation waiting to take his place in the Community, a place where there is no pain or suffering, where families are by definition nuclear. The best word I can think of to describe the community in the first half of the novel is sterile. Everything is perfectly planned, everything is accounted for, prepared for, and perfected by years of such attention to detail.

And then Jonas receives his placement: he has been chosen to be the “Receiver of Memory,” a mysterious position filled by one member of the community at a time. He becomes the apprentice to the old, fragile former Receiver, and he literally receives- telepathically- all the memories of generations of humans, including memories that precede the creation of the Community. Only then do certain facts about his world become apparent- 94 pages into the book I felt hit with a brick, realizing that I hadn’t noticed something painfully obvious about the rhetoric in the novel. As a writer I am inspired beyond telling at what Lowry achieved in this revelation.

Jonas, now aware of the possibility of raw human emotion, sees his world for what it is, and alone of his generation realizes what his people have given up to live the way they do. The book is a testament to the dangerous implications of trading potential happiness for guaranteed comfort.

So why is it so-often banned? It seems to have been challenged or banned primarily in middle schools, and the causes of these bans tends to be “unsuitable to age group” due to suicide and euthanasia. Personally, I disagree with the notion that these ideas are inappropriate for 13-14 year old students. I’ll point you to some statistics at http://www.familyfirstaid.org/suicide.html which I feel show that suicide is already an issue for pre-teens. If we want to reduce teen suicide, we need to make efforts to talk about what suicide is, what it means, how to survive the impulse. Reading and talking about books like “The Giver” could be a way to start those conversations without the worry of singling out at-risk students.

I personally feel that The Giver is appropriate for most students 12+, and is an excellent introduction to the idea of dystopia. I feel it is also an excellent resource for educators: the book can be used to discuss point of view, narrator bias, the difference between a society’s view of right and wrong and a more philosophical view of right and wrong, and the value of free choice. If I were to use it in the classroom I’d also view it as an excellent resource for teaching students how to mine a text for clues about what kind of world a character lives in: the revelation and de-layering of the society in the book is masterful. In fact, that’s the word I think I’d use for the book as a whole: masterful.

A side note for writers: The Giver won Lois Lowry her second Newbery award, and her acceptance speech available online here is one of the most profound resources I’ve ever read on inspiration and the life one leads as a creator of art. Check it out!

Monday, September 27, 2010

Literacy is the Most Direct Route to Freedom (Part 1)

It's banned book week! I thought I'd celebrate by reviewing some banned or challenged books this week by writing reviews of them here in my dusty old blog. I'll try to get you five by the end of the week. First up is "The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things" by Carolyn Mackler. I first read this book back in High School. I was a little older than main character Virginia, but we were going through the same things; weight issues, intimacy issues, trust issues, and a crumbling family life. Suffice it to say, this book has a very special place in my heart. When I found out it was one of ALA's most-challenged books of the last year, I can't say I was surprised, but I was definitely disappointed.

In The Earth, my Butt, and Other Big Round Things, protagonist and narrator Virginia Shreves tells a story of transformation from an unhappy, fat, fifteen year old girl to an empowered young woman. And here’s the catch: she makes this transformation without losing the fat. In fact, her attempts at dieting cause most of the heartache of the story for her, and only after she gives up on crash-dieting do things start looking up for her. The 2003 book tackles issues important to young, contemporary girls like eating disorders, emerging sexuality, and what happens when we see the darker side of a former idol. For these very reasons the book has been the source of some controversy, ending up as one of the top ten banned books of 2009 on ala’s website.

As the book opens, Virginia is having one of her first pre-sexual experience. Her pseudo-boyfriend is making his first attempts to feel her up under her shirt. If this isn’t enough to give a conservative reader pause, Virginia’s self-loathing soon takes center stage as we learn that she is overweight, unhappy about her body, and overshadowed by her perfect, beautiful, thin family. She writes a list she calls the “fat girl code of conduct” which stipulates that young women who are overweight don’t deserve real relationships, and in fact are bound by society to be secretly promiscuous to get attention from boys, without feeling the right to demand relationships out of fear that the attention will be cut off if they are required to be seen in public with a “fat girl.”

As the story continues, Virginia overhears the popular girls talking about how hot her older brother is and how unattractive she is by comparison. Less than five chapters in it is clear that this narrator has no self esteem and is fairly depressed about her life. When her older brother is accused of rape, her world spins upside down. She previously idolized her brother and cannot believe what he is being accused of. To escape the stress of her family life she visits a friend in another state, where she gets her eyebrow pierced. This is the first step to accepting herself and seeing herself as powerful and in control. She goes on to change her wardrobe and dye her hair bright purple.

There is a lot about the story that could be considered inappropriate and offensive to young audiences, but these are precisely the sections of the book that ring most true. The book has been banned for being inappropriate for young audiences, for sexual references, and for discussing sexual abuse. But having read the book, I feel that these subjects are dealt with in an appropriate way, and in fact are the kind of subjects young girls need to be educated on. Virginia is a heroine because she finds herself, finds pride in herself without starving herself or otherwise doing harm to her person. She does a few unorthodox things that parents might not want to see their kids doing like piercing eyebrows and dying hair purple, but the way taking control of her body empowers her is so transformative and enlightened an idea for a YA novel, that I feel banning this book is to ban the idea that young women don’t have to conform or behave to be human. The message of this book is so valuable, and so tied to the very things about it which are controversial, that I feel it should be celebrated rather than banned.

It has, indeed, been celebrated. The Earth, My Butt, and other Big Round Things has been included on ALA’s Best Book for Young Adults list, the YALSA top ten list, been a nominee or finalist for dozens of book awards, and when it was banned in Caroll County Maryland a petition of over 350 teenagers demanded it be returned to their high school bookshelves. The impact of Mackler’s book is far-reaching. Rather than banning or challenging this book, I applaud it for tackling difficult and real issues that young women face. I would encourage any young woman in crisis over her weight to read and look for inspiration in Mackler’s The Earth, My Butt, and other Big Round Things.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Too overwhelmed to update, so here's an update about being overwhelmed.

I live a dangerous life. Not one of mile-high obstacles, g-force travel or jumping off buildings or bridges suspended by elastic- not that kind of dangerous. Not that kind of danger. But I do live a life that could be potentially dangerous to myself.

I basically have two emotional modes with very little grey-area between them: bored and overwhelmed. The line between these two settings is dangerously thin, and I’ve never been much of a tightrope walker. I’m far too easily bored, and so I pile on more and more responsibility, more and more projects or classes or opportunities, until I cross that line and the water comes rushing in. The floodgates open and suddenly I can’t tell up from down.

I don’t have a solution for this yet. In fact, I’m swirling in a swimming pool of overwhelm now. It’s a pattern, a destructive pattern and I know it. What I don’t know is how to fix it. How to be interested in my life without the constant danger of it all caving in on me.