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.
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