InLand/YA Booktalks

Literary fiction

inhabits the ground of its own making. Who writes the topographic maps now? What do these maps look like? Where does literary fiction reside? On a precipice? Mired in a valley with no extant outlet? A slippery slope? A butte north of Great Falls, Montana? The dessicated estuary of the strangled Colorado? On islands of tall grass prairie? In Union Square? 

Study & Scrutiny: Research in Young Adult Literature: Call for Manuscripts

 Deadline: March 1, 2015

Study and Scrutiny: Research in Young Adult Literature, a peer-reviewed journal, invites empirical research studies and critical/theoretical essays for its inaugural issue. The inaugural issue will be non-themed. Edited by Crag Hill, Steve Bickmore, and Leilya Pitre, Study and Scrutiny will be an open access journal published twice a year hosted by the University of Oklahoma.

Study and Scrutiny: Research on Young Adult Literature will be a journal that maneuvers between and within scholarship in the established fields of children’s and adult literature. More and more graduate students are studying young adult (YA) literature; more and more critical and empirical thesis and dissertation studies are being completed. However, this scholarship is still a trickle rather than the torrent it could be because publication venues for chapter-length articles have been few and far between. Study and Scrutiny: Research on Young Adult Literature will harness the power of such scholarship in ways that will help to expand the field. 

Send submissions with a title page and originality statement as a word file to [email protected]. Manuscripts should range from 10,000 to 12,000 words, including footnotes, references, tables and figures. All references to the author(s) should be removed from the body of the manuscript in preparation for blind review. Study and Scrutiny: Research in Young Adult Literature follows the sixth edition of the  APA style guide.

Look for the first issue to be available in conjunction with the 2nd Annual LSUYAL Conference May 31-June 5.

Teaching Tolerance

L. M.

Teaching Tolerance

            The class discussion around Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe has really made me think about how to handle stereotypes in my classroom.  My usual opinion is that stereotypes are bad, and I should refuse to allow them in my class.  Unfortunately, this issue is not black-and-white.  The reactions of my classmates to my comments during the discussion made me wonder if I am actually being too intolerant with my zero-tolerance attitude.  I know that there are times and situations in which stereotypes and the truth are living happily together, but I have trouble with the idea of allowing stereotypes to be seen as true in a world that still has so much hate towards so many groups of people.

            I understand the arguments posed by my classmates during the discussion of Aristotle and Dante.  I understand that they thought Aristotle was gay because he actually was gay.  I understand that it is good reading, not homophobia, to see the clues the author leaves within the story.  What I do not understand is how to balance their close reading skills with my certainty that it is dangerous to tell a teenager that someone is gay because he puts his life on the line for a friend, or because he gets upset over a hate crime.  What I do understand is that there is a machismo attitude surrounding male friendships that is damaging our society.  I know that.

            What is not in dispute here is whether or not homosexuality is a bad thing.  It is not.  What I am arguing is that it is perceived as bad by some.  This point is essential.  It is not that I believe it is a bad thing for a boy to be gay; it is that I do not want the characteristics normally associated with being gay to be seen as personality traits to avoid.  High school is hard to get through psychologically when you are “normal.”  I cannot imagine the difficulty for a gay student, but that is not who I am worried about here.  I am worried about the straight kid who does not want to be seen as gay because gay equals bad in his mind, or in the minds of those around him.  Often, for a teenager, the need to fit in is incredibly strong.  So, what happens when you take a sensitive, kind teenage boy who wants the approval of his peers and give him the messages that gay is bad and that sensitive equals gay?  Nothing good is what happens.  Again, I am not talking about how things should be, just how they are.  Many students exist in an environment that gives the message that being gay makes you somehow less-than.  That attitude is what I, as the teacher, have to work with.  It is irresponsible for me to add to this message in any way.  So, then, is it ethical for me to condone the idea that being a good friend and a sensitive person are clues that someone is gay, even if that is the storyline of the book we are reading?

            Perhaps the fault lies with the character in the book.  Maybe the character Dante just exhibits too many stereotypical traits.  Does the author have the responsibility to “butch up” the character of Dante so that he does not further the stereotype of the poetry-reading gay boy?  That seems to be a ridiculous solution, also.  Not only does the writer have freedom to write however he chooses, Dante and Aristotle are believable, well-written characters.  These facts, however, do not change my feelings that I would do more harm than good teaching this book. 

            I wish that this issue was all my own paranoia.  I would love nothing more than to be wrong about all of this.  I do admit that there are probably high-school classrooms in this world where this book could be discussed just the way it was meant to be.  However, this is not the world I come from.  The world I will be teaching in is a world in which “gay” is the preferred insult exchanged between young men.  I will be teaching in a world where my students will much more likely be shooting birds than rescuing birds.  This is a world in which boys who cry in front of other people, actually think their parents are cool, and enjoy reading are viewed with suspicion, regardless of their sexual orientation.  I am afraid that a book like Aristotle and Dante would only fuel that fire and make sensitive boys feel the need to change their behaviors in order to avoid more ostracism than they might already be dealing with.

            I do want to change the world.  I want to help make high school a place where it is okay to be yourself, but I have to work with what I have.  Just as Shakespeare is not appropriate in a class where the students have just learned how to read, Aristotle and Dante would not be appropriate in a class where students are still using the word “gay” to mean bad.  They are just not ready.  I do love this book, and I look forward to the day I can teach it.  Right now, I feel much more comfortable teaching a book like Grasshopper Jungle.  I think the characters are just as well written, but without many of the stereotypes I find troubling.  I do want to talk about stereotypes with my students.  I want them to know that sometimes they are true and sometimes they are not.  I want them to know how hurtful their words and actions can be.  I want to help them to realize that dismissing other people really just diminishes their own opportunities to grow.  I guess what I have taken away from the discussion about Aristotle and Dante is that it does not matter what book I teach, hopefully, as long as I have the right questions, my students will learn.

Reading the Labels

Adam Van Buren

            During the last class Dr. Hill mentioned the dangers of assigning labels to books.  Specifically, he said that labels limit a book’s audience by alienating potential readership.  How many boys, for instance, would delve eagerly into a “girls’ book”?  Would a heterosexual audience ever embrace a “gay book” despite the quality of the story?  In this regard I see his point; to label a book often means to reinforce divisions in society, if only inadvertently.  However, I wish to argue in favor of labels, at least in some cases.  Many “minority readers” – those readers belonging to marginalized racial, sexual, or gender groups – frequently feel starved for representation.  They long to read books that depict their struggles or to find protagonists with whom they can relate.  Moreover, certain books appeal more greatly to or hold more importance for certain audiences; in these instances labels simply convey the content of the book.  I believe that labels can both describe a book and attract – or at least not repel – wide readership.  Furthermore, labels, especially ones attached to young-adult books, can serve as cultural and instructional tools.

            Take, for example, the Autobiography of Malcolm X.  To call it a “black book” might be to engage in reductive nomenclature.  Certainly the story holds poignancy for members of all races; precious few people have never suffered loss or pain.  Even so, the book presents events from a decidedly African-American standpoint.  An early chapter recalls the young protagonist’s experience with the Ku Klux Klan, and subsequent chapters explore his militant approach to civil rights.  These issues reflect a black perspective.  I hardly think white male readers, of that era or any other, can relate fully to fears about lynching or disenfranchisement.  The book conveys a story largely about African Americans, and its author’s viewpoints arise from decades of discrimination and racial injustice.  In this case the label “black book” might be simplistic, but it captures the book’s content and social significance.

            I apply the same logic to Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, the last book we discussed in class.  The book contains many universal themes: it follows two teenage boys who overcome social isolation and ultimately find love… with each other.  This plot development tempers a universal story with themes specific to a gay audience.  Over the course of their romance, the boys contend with gay bashings and fears of familial rejection.  Their fears reflect the hardships of many real-life gay teens, and the ending conveys the desires of that audience – in this case, to find love and acceptance.  Again, the “gay book” label proves accurate because it indicates the book’s content and the audience for whom it carries the most weight.

            As I mentioned, I understand how these labels might dissuade certain readers from selecting books.  A white reader assumes a “black book” had nothing relevant to his life.  A heterosexual woman sees little of herself in a story about two homosexual men.  The so-called general readership ends up feeling excluded, as though barred from some literary club.  Labels may speak more loudly to certain audiences, but wider audiences often fail to hear the message entirely.

            The solution lies in using labels to stress the educative nature of books.  Aside from Fox News viewers, few people exist in a cultural vacuum.  They realize that the world hosts innumerable ethnicities, religions, sexual orientations, etc.  Furthermore, many people have a desire to learn about unfamiliar concepts and unfamiliar people.  Books, those eternal compendiums of knowledge, help to accomplish this goal.  Through their pages readers can visit new locations, experience different cultures, and encounter fascinating stories different from their own.  From this perspective, labels can aid in readers’ educational endeavors.  A reader might use a “gay book” to enlighten himself about gay people’s struggles, or a white reader might peruse a “black book” to gain greater understanding of discrimination and civil rights.  Under these conditions labels indicate a wealth of knowledge rather than a dearth of relatable content.

            To implement this solution I suggest literary and cultural rebranding.  Terms such as “gay book” or “black book” emphasize the differences among readers; they imply that outside audiences might find little to enjoy.  At the moment content labels function similarly to genre labels: they narrow and specify a book’s content but seem confined to audience.  I propose that teachers and critics alike attempt to situate books and labels within a broader cultural framework.  A book such as Aristotle and Dante might supplement a lesson on gay rights and LGBT issues, or The Autobiography of Malcolm X might add personal nuance to discussions about civil-rights demonstrations.  In such examples labels enhance content and allow readers to explore subjects that may be foreign to them.  When presented in an educational context, labels invite readers to receive new information.

            Young adult literature works especially well in this context.  Teenagers express a combination of unyielding curiosity and immense receptivity.  Their minds crave new information, and they readily absorb messages from books, movies, and television.  Under normal circumstances labels might sour them on certain books; I can hardly envision a football player reading a book with two gay protagonists.  However, many teenagers would embrace the chance to satisfy their curiosity, to learn about varied cultures and viewpoints.  Young-adult literature takes issues and molds them to fit teenagers’ lives.  Just as “black books” and “gay books” might broaden adults’ outlook, such books might also widen teenagers’ understanding of the world and their peers.  The key rests in the presentation: teachers might use these books in lessons about bullying or depression.  That way, general readers feel not excluded but more aware of their comrades’ lives. 

            Labeling books often brings disastrous implications.  Boys see a “girl book” and recoil in horror; macho men see a “gay book” and feel the urge to down raw eggs.  These labels, though well-intentioned, reinforce stereotypes and maintain separations among groups.  However, labels need not necessarily serve as points of division.  Used wisely, they can actually attract myriad readers and educate them about different facets of society.  Educators should attempt to frame books and the labels they carry in educative terms.  A “black book” may not reflect the experiences of a white reader, but it can teach that white reader about the effects of discrimination.  A “gay book” may resonate most profoundly with a small segment of the population, but it can inform the larger segments about many individuals’ private struggles.  With careful presentation, teachers can explain labels convey not differences but opportunities to become more inclusive readers and citizens.