I had originally chosen to read Maus for the selected title in the graphic novel genre of teen lit. I chose that text because I had heard from several of my colleagues that it was a very powerful text, and a very good read. I completely agree with them on both of assessments. I found the conceptualization of the text to be original and unique, and the final product to be remarkable. However, I also was fortunate enough to read a classmate’s copy of The Arrival during the final twenty minutes allotted in class, and I absolutely fell in love with that text – and so decided to focus on Tan’s text.
On my walk home from class on December 7th, I called that friend of mine that I discuss fine literature with (we all seem to have a friend that we have great conversation with about a limited topic, don’t we?). I told him that I found something brand new and beautiful. In short, I could not wait to share this text with others. By the time I had gotten to my car, I had already decided to purchase a copy of the book for my brother teaching abroad in Japan, another for this aforementioned friend of mine, and one more for myself. Luckily, Amazon.com had a good deal on it.
The illustrations in The Arrival are simply beautiful, and I love when authors choose to spend as much time and attention incorporating detail into illustration as they do in the written text. It saddens me that our culture tends to disregard illustrations in “high” literature, often leaving the cover art (typically chosen by the publisher for marketing purposes, and having nothing to do with the text or author’s intentions) as a text’s only illustration. In this text, Tan shows how illustrations alone can tell a novel’s story. I have enjoyed picture books in the past, and I have certainly enjoyed (many) graphic novels – but this text struck me as being brand new. Like only exceptional texts can do, this one affected me by staying in the forefront of my mind for days on end. Several of my friends and colleagues were pinned down and forced to listen to me inadequately tell about this story. None of them got the real picture, I am sure – but the media specialist looked further into it, and is ordering a few copies for the school.
When I remark that this story was “brand new” to me, I refer to two things in particular. First is the aesthetic beauty of the text (its illustrations, cover art, and composition), and elegant subtlety of the story it tells without the use of words (clear narrative without being too obvious). The second is the universality of this story. To quote Gene Luen Yang in his review that appeared in the New York Times, “The Arrival tells not an immigrant’s story, but the immigrant’s story” (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/11/books/review/Yang-t.html). The protagonist’s ethnicity and nationality are not known for sure, and the collage of faces in the opening of the text serves to tell the reader that this story is universal to immigrant experiences of all nationalities and ethnicities. There is not even a language to determine the old world or the new – just images that help us to determine that the new world is confusing and intimidating to the immigrant traveler. The themes of this text – fear, love, family, etc. are themes that are universal throughout cultures, and are themes that are present in every immigrant’s tale. Yang goes further to analyze many more images in a comparison to New York and Ellis Island; I was satisfied in recognizing that the images of the new world were purposefully foreign to any reader from our world.
This text struck a chord with me. I am not at all concerned with whether this is technically a graphic novel or a picture book. In my opinion, those are conversations that happen when there is not enough to speak on in the text itself. This text provided me with more to think and speak about than most texts we read this semester, and it accomplished this without the benefit of any written language.
Monday, December 14, 2009
American Born Chinese - Reflections
· I recognize all of the toys that the boys are playing with on page 26. This tells me two things; the artist has a special attention to detail in this text, and I know too much about Transformers. I even know the names of the figures.
· Why are teachers so often portrayed as bumbling idiots in many of the texts that we’re reading?
My initial impression of this text was not entirely enthusiastic. The plot lines did not engage me right from the start. However, I soon found myself caring about what was happening with two of the characters in his journey of self-discovery. Throughout the middle, I really enjoyed the story of the Monkey King and Jin Wang; I found their struggles to be interesting, and their stories to be deep. Danny and Chin-Kee’s story seemed uncharacteristically superficial, however. While all three stories revolve around humiliation and self-shame, the first two cover this a bit more subversively. Danny and Chin-Kee spell this theme out explicitly, and seems to be working on a completely different wavelength from the rest of the text. The end result of this is a text that has a bit of an identity crisis; while there are some parallels from story to story, there are just as many miss-hits from one text to the other. The third story just does not seem to have the same intended audience as the first two. Since I am unfamiliar with this author and his other work, I don’t know whether this “identiy crisis” in terms of structure is meant to reflect the identity crisis of the characters within, or if it is just rough construction. I hope for the former.
I found the culmination of the stories fitting together to be a bit clumsy as well. The progression of Danny’s character is not authentic, but none of that plot-line is very authentic. Jin’s transformation into Danny is sad and believable, but his interaction with the Monkey King seems a stretch. The Monkey King’s transfer into Western culture and the Nativity is a very interesting kink in the plot, but his return to Monkey world and his conversation with his son as an emissary just seems to serve the purpose of connecting dots.
All in all, I did end up enjoying this text even in spite of the pieces that I don’t like about its triple narrative structure. I grew up reading comic books, and am very familiar with this genre of literature. For this reason, it was refreshing to read this text, and to see that this form of literature is finally being viewed as legitimate literature. What struck me as being most memorable about this text is the overarching feelings of self-shame that many of the characters share. It will be interesting to pay attention to other pieces of multicultural literature to see if this theme is present… I have read plenty of pieces from a wide variety of cultural experiences, and have not noticed this theme and feeling so pervasive in other texts – though Amy Tan’s Fish Cheeks does sing this same tune. That short story almost brings me to tears every time I read it. It is heartbreaking to think of a young person like Jin Wang being so ashamed of his own person, heritage, and culture. If nothing else, this text has made me more attentive to this theme as it is presented in literature, and will no doubt help sharpen my skills in reading literature through a multicultural lens.
· Why are teachers so often portrayed as bumbling idiots in many of the texts that we’re reading?
My initial impression of this text was not entirely enthusiastic. The plot lines did not engage me right from the start. However, I soon found myself caring about what was happening with two of the characters in his journey of self-discovery. Throughout the middle, I really enjoyed the story of the Monkey King and Jin Wang; I found their struggles to be interesting, and their stories to be deep. Danny and Chin-Kee’s story seemed uncharacteristically superficial, however. While all three stories revolve around humiliation and self-shame, the first two cover this a bit more subversively. Danny and Chin-Kee spell this theme out explicitly, and seems to be working on a completely different wavelength from the rest of the text. The end result of this is a text that has a bit of an identity crisis; while there are some parallels from story to story, there are just as many miss-hits from one text to the other. The third story just does not seem to have the same intended audience as the first two. Since I am unfamiliar with this author and his other work, I don’t know whether this “identiy crisis” in terms of structure is meant to reflect the identity crisis of the characters within, or if it is just rough construction. I hope for the former.
I found the culmination of the stories fitting together to be a bit clumsy as well. The progression of Danny’s character is not authentic, but none of that plot-line is very authentic. Jin’s transformation into Danny is sad and believable, but his interaction with the Monkey King seems a stretch. The Monkey King’s transfer into Western culture and the Nativity is a very interesting kink in the plot, but his return to Monkey world and his conversation with his son as an emissary just seems to serve the purpose of connecting dots.
All in all, I did end up enjoying this text even in spite of the pieces that I don’t like about its triple narrative structure. I grew up reading comic books, and am very familiar with this genre of literature. For this reason, it was refreshing to read this text, and to see that this form of literature is finally being viewed as legitimate literature. What struck me as being most memorable about this text is the overarching feelings of self-shame that many of the characters share. It will be interesting to pay attention to other pieces of multicultural literature to see if this theme is present… I have read plenty of pieces from a wide variety of cultural experiences, and have not noticed this theme and feeling so pervasive in other texts – though Amy Tan’s Fish Cheeks does sing this same tune. That short story almost brings me to tears every time I read it. It is heartbreaking to think of a young person like Jin Wang being so ashamed of his own person, heritage, and culture. If nothing else, this text has made me more attentive to this theme as it is presented in literature, and will no doubt help sharpen my skills in reading literature through a multicultural lens.
Speak Reflections
Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson, came highly recommended to me by another teacher in my building who works with struggling readers, as well as by a few of my former students. This text was indeed very engaging, and left me often wanting to read more. However, I found that there were pieces of this text that I strongly disliked along with aspects that I found to be fantastic.
To start with what I enjoyed about the text, I think that Anderson deals with the themes of vulnerability and loss of innocence very well. The confusion that Melinda feels after being raped, and the intense mental anguish and trauma that she suffers as a result of her attack, are poignant and well written. I found Melinda to be very authentic in this way – her emotional distress and withdrawn nature show the depth of how damaged she is because of her being raped. For the majority of the text, Melinda is completely withdrawn, finding herself unable to communicate herself with anyone outside of herself. We the reader are privy to her inner-monologue however, and find that at the beginning, she is not even fully open to herself. With time, and some healing, we learn much, and Melinda finds the ability to communicate more and more.
I also enjoyed Melinda’s journey of healing. In the end, when she is in the hospital (was it to get her lips stitched?) and notices the many very sick people without hope of healing, Melinda recognizes that she at least has the hope of healing from her wounds. This brings new light to her perspective, and allows the reader to see significant growth in her character.
One last quality that I really liked about Speak is its literary quality. I like the structure of the text, from one-sentence paragraphs that paralles Melinda’s feelings of isolation, to the symbolism of her sewn lips and inability to communicate. Melinda also names her art pieces the “confused period,” “spaz period,” and “dead period” to mirror her own experience. I love how Anderson played around with these details, and I find that such purposeful attention to detail in her writing makes this book appealing to a wider audience base. Students Melinda’s age can read this and engage with her character’s struggles, and a more mature reader can analyze how the text structure emphasizes what is happening in Melinda’s life.
On the other hand, there were things that drove me crazy about this text. I felt overwhelmed with teenage angst and emotion when reading this text. Yes, this is part of what makes this an authentic narrative, considering who the narrator is and what she has gone through. Still, I did not enjoy reading from her perspective. Much like Holden Caulfield annoyed the piss out of me with his “everything sucks and everyone’s a phony” attitude, Melinda’s nearly thorough misery is tiresome.
Related to this, another detail the bugged me was the art teacher. I found his character to be arrogant (in his complete disregard for his peers and superiors) an unprofessional (should not be counseling students in his Volvo – there’s a song by the Police about this same subject), and I simply did not like him. I could not take him seriously as a mentor in this text. I also found it tough to accept the resignation that the rest of the faculty seem to have with their profession – though I do recognize that we see the professionalism of these teachers through the vision of an anguished teenage girl.
To start with what I enjoyed about the text, I think that Anderson deals with the themes of vulnerability and loss of innocence very well. The confusion that Melinda feels after being raped, and the intense mental anguish and trauma that she suffers as a result of her attack, are poignant and well written. I found Melinda to be very authentic in this way – her emotional distress and withdrawn nature show the depth of how damaged she is because of her being raped. For the majority of the text, Melinda is completely withdrawn, finding herself unable to communicate herself with anyone outside of herself. We the reader are privy to her inner-monologue however, and find that at the beginning, she is not even fully open to herself. With time, and some healing, we learn much, and Melinda finds the ability to communicate more and more.
I also enjoyed Melinda’s journey of healing. In the end, when she is in the hospital (was it to get her lips stitched?) and notices the many very sick people without hope of healing, Melinda recognizes that she at least has the hope of healing from her wounds. This brings new light to her perspective, and allows the reader to see significant growth in her character.
One last quality that I really liked about Speak is its literary quality. I like the structure of the text, from one-sentence paragraphs that paralles Melinda’s feelings of isolation, to the symbolism of her sewn lips and inability to communicate. Melinda also names her art pieces the “confused period,” “spaz period,” and “dead period” to mirror her own experience. I love how Anderson played around with these details, and I find that such purposeful attention to detail in her writing makes this book appealing to a wider audience base. Students Melinda’s age can read this and engage with her character’s struggles, and a more mature reader can analyze how the text structure emphasizes what is happening in Melinda’s life.
On the other hand, there were things that drove me crazy about this text. I felt overwhelmed with teenage angst and emotion when reading this text. Yes, this is part of what makes this an authentic narrative, considering who the narrator is and what she has gone through. Still, I did not enjoy reading from her perspective. Much like Holden Caulfield annoyed the piss out of me with his “everything sucks and everyone’s a phony” attitude, Melinda’s nearly thorough misery is tiresome.
Related to this, another detail the bugged me was the art teacher. I found his character to be arrogant (in his complete disregard for his peers and superiors) an unprofessional (should not be counseling students in his Volvo – there’s a song by the Police about this same subject), and I simply did not like him. I could not take him seriously as a mentor in this text. I also found it tough to accept the resignation that the rest of the faculty seem to have with their profession – though I do recognize that we see the professionalism of these teachers through the vision of an anguished teenage girl.
Luna Reflections
The first time I heard of the text Luna was at a workshop I attended last year. The workshop was titled something like “Books for Reluctant Readers,” and a small handful of Special Ed and English teachers from my high school attended with our media specialist. We had the idea that the workshop would be for teachers and media specialists, but we were very wrong. For eight hours, we covered synopses of titles from various genres, and discussed which audiences the titles appealed to. We were some of the only teachers in a sea of media personnel. Still, there were some highlights, and I did learn some new things.
Luna was presented as one of a small handful of texts within the GBLT genre of teen lit, and those who reviewed it could not stop singing its praises. We the audience were advised that if we were to read one book about GBLT issues, then this should be the one. The book was lauded for its treatment of gender identity, as well as for its narrative qualities.
At a glance, it is easy to mistake this text as being about Luna when in fact it is Reagan’s story. As much as Luna is a primary focus throughout the narrative, Liam’s “transition” to becoming comfortable as Luna serves as the catalyst for Reagan’s transition and journey to take place. In the beginning of the text, Reagan is accustomed to hiding Luna, and keeping secrets safe from parents. Though she is very sensitive and supportive of her brother/sister, she also sometimes wishes for a “normal” life, and a chance to find out who she really is. Her living in support of Luna and protecting Liam is consuming, and leaves little opportunity for Reagan to live her own life. In recent years, I have shown the film “Simon Birch” to teach elements of the Hero’s Journey, and the concept of a “catalyst hero” as a part of our unit on archetypes. Luna follows a similar pattern, and could certainly be a text that students could explore to better understand catalyst heroes. In this case, Luna and her journey of self-discovery is the catalyst for Reagan’s own journey.
While I enjoy Reagan and the chance to see this text through her experience, I am a bit curious of the author’s purpose in structuring this narrative in this fashion. Knowing that choices like these are always purposeful in thoughtful literature, it would be interesting to read a bit from the author about choices. My initial thought is that this book serves in part to offer a perspective on the transgendered issues (why does the politically correct term for so many subjects always seem to have the word ‘issues’ attached to it?) to a primarily straight audience, and Reagan’s perspective may help many readers more closely identify with her perspective. As I think about this question further, I am not convinced I have any real idea.
On a somewhat unrelated note, why, how, and when did baseball get the bad wrap of being the patron sport of homophobic fathers in denial? Is this due to the stereotype of boys playing catch in the backyard surrounded by a white picket fence with dad being part of the “American ideal?” This detail seemed uncharacteristically stereotyped in this text.
Luna was presented as one of a small handful of texts within the GBLT genre of teen lit, and those who reviewed it could not stop singing its praises. We the audience were advised that if we were to read one book about GBLT issues, then this should be the one. The book was lauded for its treatment of gender identity, as well as for its narrative qualities.
At a glance, it is easy to mistake this text as being about Luna when in fact it is Reagan’s story. As much as Luna is a primary focus throughout the narrative, Liam’s “transition” to becoming comfortable as Luna serves as the catalyst for Reagan’s transition and journey to take place. In the beginning of the text, Reagan is accustomed to hiding Luna, and keeping secrets safe from parents. Though she is very sensitive and supportive of her brother/sister, she also sometimes wishes for a “normal” life, and a chance to find out who she really is. Her living in support of Luna and protecting Liam is consuming, and leaves little opportunity for Reagan to live her own life. In recent years, I have shown the film “Simon Birch” to teach elements of the Hero’s Journey, and the concept of a “catalyst hero” as a part of our unit on archetypes. Luna follows a similar pattern, and could certainly be a text that students could explore to better understand catalyst heroes. In this case, Luna and her journey of self-discovery is the catalyst for Reagan’s own journey.
While I enjoy Reagan and the chance to see this text through her experience, I am a bit curious of the author’s purpose in structuring this narrative in this fashion. Knowing that choices like these are always purposeful in thoughtful literature, it would be interesting to read a bit from the author about choices. My initial thought is that this book serves in part to offer a perspective on the transgendered issues (why does the politically correct term for so many subjects always seem to have the word ‘issues’ attached to it?) to a primarily straight audience, and Reagan’s perspective may help many readers more closely identify with her perspective. As I think about this question further, I am not convinced I have any real idea.
On a somewhat unrelated note, why, how, and when did baseball get the bad wrap of being the patron sport of homophobic fathers in denial? Is this due to the stereotype of boys playing catch in the backyard surrounded by a white picket fence with dad being part of the “American ideal?” This detail seemed uncharacteristically stereotyped in this text.
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