Category Archives: lit

“Our stories are the bastard children of everything that we have ever experienced and read”: Reflecting on Chapters 3 & 4 of Create Dangerously

[This post is my second set of comments related to Edwidge Danticat’s Create Dangerously. The entire exchange between Daye and I can be found over here.]

Daye, thanks for checking in with the comments last week.

As we’re talking about chapters 3 and 4 this week, I am again struck by titles. It’s hard to really buy that “I am Not A Journalist” is a declarative statement by the author as she does little here but report on the death and aftershocks of a close friend, activist, radio-journalist. It reminds me of Magritte’s “The Treachery of Images.” And while I was personally oblivious to the effects of Jean Dominque’s influence, I can understand how listening, like reading in the first chapter of the collection, is poised as a political act.

Like one of your final comments, I’ve been thinking about the roles that Danticat places herself in and how these may relate to the immigrant youth I’ve been teaching for the past six years. Danticat quote’s Dominque, “The Dyaspora are people with their feet planted in bother worlds. There’s no need to be ashamed of that.” I reflect on a conversation with one of my students years ago that started off the class by declaring, “Mr. Garcia, when we come to this country, we become different people.” He was initially referring to the way he lost his “second” last name as a result of traditional American conventions (and the fact that school documents simply don’t have the space to include the characters from two last names). The discussion in the class, however, circled around the transformation – one that often felt shameful – for the students throughout the class.

Daye, I’m wondering if you could talk about how diaspora is seen as a character in Lwa. Is it too the “floating homeland” around which your characters reside? This is also a good place for me to briefly step out of my role as critic and remind readers about Daye’s awesome film project on Kickstarter. Please consider making a donation to her project – even a small contribution will help her, too, create dangerously.

A couple of years ago, I created a unit plan for my students called “Voices of Struggle.” Its overarching goal was to locate students’ ideologies in the eye of the storm of larger, global conflict. Books like Persepolis, What is the What, and Invisible Man acted as exemplars for students to ultimately record and literally voice the way the world has helped shape who they are and how they have helped shape the world. I liked the way these two chapters melded the singular struggle across generations, a father’s cause taken up in the writing of a daughter.

Daye, you talked about the liminal state in which you are creating work. Do you relate to the role of memory that Danticat describes in chapter 4? I know Lwa revolves around memory too. Would you mind talking about this?

For next week, since they are slower chapters (and to make sure we wrap this up before you move from pre- to actual production), what do you say about covering the shorter chapters that make up the middle of the book. I’m proposing we comment on chapters 5, 6, 7, and 8. Any objections?

Lastly, I know a few other people have been reading through Danticat as well. Please email me or post your reflections on these chapters as comments. We will include them in the exchange and welcome the extra “immigrant” bloggers.

Redefining Romeo and Juliet: Reclaiming the “Ghetto”

Teaching ninth graders, the past month has been one centered around themes of conflict as my class analyzes Romeo and Juliet. Over this and a couple of future posts, I wanted to share some of the work my students and I have been engaging in. Essentially, the role of the seminal, ninth grade text, has shifted. No longer can students simply read and analyze Romeo and Juliet. Instead, it is not an option to include materials that exist outside of the original text; it is an imperative part of understanding the text. I’ll return to this idea after sharing some examples.

Utilizing the Flip Cams that Peter and I used for our What Son Productions course, the students will be recreating their own versions of scenes from the play. This is not an original or a very creative idea (more about that in a minute). What is interesting, though, is the process of reading Romeo and Juliet across different interpretations. As we read a scene, we may screen a scene from the 1996 Lurhmann interpretation as well as the 1968 Zeffirelli interpretation. We are then utilizing a 4×4 graphic organizer to note key differences between the original source, two films, and our own ideas of how the scene could be produced. These products are becoming the basis for a production log the students are creating as they note where one version may fall short – Tybalt being too aggressive to Romeo in the 1996 version before Mercutio becomes a “grave man,” for instance.

As I mentioned, the concept of asking students to recreate their own versions of scenes isn’t a very new one. In fact, as more and more students have easy access to tools of production – as these tools have become ubiquitous – it’s easy to see student work samples online. However, the vast, vast majority of these samples appear to be from overwhelmingly white communities. And these versions are taking significant liberties in their portrayal of urban reenactments of Romeo and Juliet.

Over the course of a week, I began each class by screening a 3-7 minute YouTube clip. I simply searched “Gangster Romeo and Juliet” and a deluge of student-created videos showed up showing “ghetto” versions of the play. [This was inspired by a conversation about developing this unit with my colleague Peter Carlson.]

This ghetto, however, is technically the community my students live and go to school in. This ghetto is stereotyped by white students in ways that at first issued guffaws. My students found the videos funny at first. However, after a couple of days, students said they felt “mocked.” They said that the videos didn’t show things correctly, were making fun of the community, and actually lacked textual understanding of Shakespeare’s words (several of the films, for instance, abbreviated Abraham’s name the same way that Luhrmann’s did).

Often times, these videos are posing these ghetto versions in lush, rural or suburban communities:

I want to underscore that I am not using these examples to criticize the students that have made them. However, when discussing them with students, we have noticed that there are not similar “ghetto” versions made by people of color. And if they are not creating them, essentially, an incorrect truth about what the ghetto is and how people act within it is being reified. My students shifted uncomfortably in their seats as they began thinking about the messages that a critical mass of lighthearted “ghetto” student clips are sending; these paired with YouTube clips of student fights are furthering stereotypes of student behavior and expectations.

As educators, our role is changing; the power of student production is a necessary tool for critical analysis. How can these tools break down existing assumptions?

As a class, my students are thinking about how they can create videos that respond critically to the samples they’ve seen, accurately reflect a nuanced understanding of their neighborhoods & worldviews, and express thematic interpretation of the canonical text. It is the necessary hard work I am excited about seeing develop in the next two weeks.

Again, as I said in the opening paragraph, the role of Romeo and Juliet is much more inclusive than simply the 92 pages of the Dover edition that my students have each been asked to purchase. The culture and understanding of the text is inclusive of a rich body of knowledge, assumptions, and continuing dialogue with the work through writing, acting, and recording. Social networking, new media, and a changing access to technology means that simply summarizing plot and theme is disregarding the other critical skills students need to learn in an English class.

Support Lwa and Create Dangerously

First of all my good friend and filmmaker Dehanza Rogers is currently trying to raise funding for her magical-realist, Haitian short film, Lwa. Please take a look at her Kickstarter page. Really, even a small contribution will go a long way to helping support a filmmaker I believe in.

Over the next couple of weeks, Daye and I are reading through Edwidge Danticat’s latest collection of essays, Create Dangerously,  and have agreed to post a few comments back and forth. We did this once before a while ago and it’s not too late for you to grab a copy and join us as we read at the accommodating, glacial pace of two chapters a week. [Though I know Daye’s familiar with Danticat’s work, this collection got my attention via this post.]

For me, I am reading this book largely oblivious to the Haitian culture from which Danticat is writing and I’m hoping to use this dialogue as a space to understand better both the space of art from which both Danticat and Daye are producing from and within.

I’m struck by the fact that the titles of the first two chapters of the book serve as gentle and opposing commands: “Create Dangerously” and “Walk Straight.” As if the role of the “Immigrant Artist at Work” traverses the careful balance of producing with criticality and toeing an existing conceit. An interesting balancing act; I know how this tension is played out in the public eye for Danticat based on her reflections in “Walk Straight.” Daye, I’m curious how you are working between both of these.

As for the content, I like the way Danticat’s own perspectives as a creator are steeped in a history –familial, national, cultural, universal. The Haitian political figures that begin the book, the subterfugre, assassinations, and secret police reminded me Graham Greene’s lesser work, The Comedians and I was pleased to see Danticat reference it directly (as well as Greene’s exile from Hatia as a result of his choice of dangerously creating the accurate portrayl of the dictatoriship within the novel). [As a brief aside, I want to point out that I purchased The Comedians as a used bookstore solely because of a blind faith in Greene’s writing and the incredible cover art.] I am struck by the idea that, “there is probably no such thing as an immigrant artist in this globalized age.” While I don’t necessarily agree with Danticat’s claim here, I am curious about what authorial advantages are gained by vantage of the “immigrant” in the flattened world so many are pointing to.

I don’t want to make this too long as Daye and I will be checking in over the course of the book, so I’ll end by examining a quote from the second chapter: “Anguished by my own sense of guilt, I often reply feebly that in writing what I do, I exploit no one more than myself.” I’ve find myself empathizing with Danticat’s claim here and wonder how you, Daye, see this quote in relation to your own work and in particular to Lwa.

Cutting Down The Instructions and a Wilde Diversion

So, I’m reading The Instructions. Only a handful of pages in and I’m excited about the journey this book is intending. I also like the feel of this book. Like other McSweeney’s publications, it’s a beautifully designed item.

Its physicality is the very argument against e-readers. At the same time, the book is staggeringly big:

With my laptop, notebook, and mishmash of teaching materials, it literally doesn’t fit in the bag I bring to work each day. This is, indeed, a compelling argument for e-readers (especially considering that an iPad is a typical component of my daily arsenal).

Did I mention that there is no digital copy of The Instructions? As much as it would make this situation much easier, I like that I have to hold the pages as Levin’s Gurion ben-Judah Maccabee intended.

So I bought another copy.

I bought a copy that was to be slaughtered for the greater reading good. It arrived a surprising, innocent white. And once again I was captured by the intense beauty of The Instructions as Object. I almost turned against my original blue copy until I noticed the strangely askew sticker placement on the back.

And the hacking began.

I first cut the book from its hardcover, and found suitable chapter ends with which to cut the book. Now in five digestible tomes, I can cart the book in fragments.

As I cut into the literary flesh I was reminded of El Gaviero who, in one of his earlier adventures – perhaps “The Snow of the Admiral” – also brought along only tattered fragments of greater books due to size and space. I also drew inspiration from the recent reading of Skippy Dies; the edition I read was spliced across three paperbacks housed in a handsome box, making it ever the easier book to transport. A similar appreciation was felt for the same version of 2666.

Finally, searching for the appropriate places in the text to sever text from text, to create neat piles of books, I scanned the top to see if cutting specific signatures of the book would be feasible. This did not meet my preference for separations at the end of chapters so didn’t pan out. However, I was reminded – in tracing this line of thinking – of a fragment of a literary anecdote: while doing an undergraduate fellowship at the Clarke Library, I was shown a book that was unique in the library not for its content than for its state of being. As one of the foremost collections of books by, from, or related to Oscar Wilde, the book in question (though its name is of course lost to the ineptitude of youthful obliviousness) was a gift from Wilde to his lover at the time. However, after receiving the book, Wilde’s companion rejected Wilde. The book, now owned by the Clarke Library is a treasure in that the top signatures of the book were never cut; the pages could not be opened without these being cut. The book is an artifact of a relationship run stale; Wilde’s gift nothing more than a weighty reminder of a past romance, nothing to be consumed or to even pretend to have opened.

But then comes the spinsterish head of academia: I believe a researcher expressed an interest in reading this particular copy of the Clarke’s collection. Does the library cut open the book for the needs of academia? Or preserve the book’s unrelinquished secrets in the spirit of historical veracity? Honestly, I don’t remember what decisions were made. The story itself comes as little more than a literary reverie.

A diversion, I realize, but one that brings me back to pure fascination of books in their dusty, hefty, and sometimes unwieldy physicality.

“I remember downcast eyes and secret whims”: Books Read in 2010

Seeing how I’m only pages into the 1000+ page novel The Instructions and likely won’t be finished anytime soon, now seems like an appropriate time to review my year in reading. Again, discounting the many articles and chapter selections that have been thumbed, read, and annotated, here’s a breakdown of what my reading time was spent with:

Books read in 2010: 108

Comics and graphic novels included in reading total: 17

Books of poetry included in reading total: 
5

Books reread included in reading total: 3

Academic & Education related books included in reading total: 23

YA and Junior Fiction books included in reading total: 19

A few thoughts and highlights (maybe you wan’t to compare them to last year’s):

The single best short story collection I’ve read in a long, long time is Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang. If you take no other recommendations, I strongly recommend seeking this one out.

In terms of highlights, my year ended with a run of rather fantastic fiction that came out this year. In particular, Skippy Dies and Room were tremendously fun reads I can’t imagine anyone disliking. Enough praise (and criticism) has been heaped on Freedom to make anything else here seem like hyperbole. Be that as it may, I struggled getting through the first third or so of this book before it completely enveloped me and left me just awed by the end – the last sentence perhaps the apotheosis of a stellar text. Along the lines of popular novels, I am left wanting to know Larson’s larger plot arc for the Millennium series. As formulaic as the texts were, I’ll admit to having been caught up in all three when reading them.

A fitting addition to the BSRAYDEKWTDWT collection, Tree of Codes is as beautiful as it is perplexing a read. The process of creation (both by the author and the publisher) is thrilling and the end result is as much art-ifact as it is poetic narrative. This post’s title and image are representative of the lucid wakefulness that is evoked through the cobweb-like pages that stick and pull from each other.

I also spent a significant chunk of reading time on YA and junior fiction, which is probably one of the best tips I can give to newer teachers; having a handful of tomes you can book talk to the most wayward of readers will go miles in keeping reading sustained throughout the year. As much as I flew through popular works like the Hunger Games Trilogy, I Am Number Four*, and the Uglies, I would point to Looking For Alaska as the title I keep coming back to. Just a great read as a whole and I can’t say that John Green’s other works have disappointed both in the classroom and as leisure reading. Going Bovine is also a quick read, despite its heft. For a slightly younger audience, Neil Armstrong is My Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me is great. The ending felt telegraphed from the opening chapters and yet I still felt myself caught up emotionally in the way Marino pulls the plot together nicely in the concluding pages.

Essex County is a great graphic novel – so different from Lemire’s current series, Sweet Tooth. I recommend both as entry points for people that don’t consider themselves comic book readers.

Oh, I’m pretty sure that Stoner is heaped with praise annually by anyone that encounters it. That being said, it is just incredible. If you don’t believe me, the singer of the band that put out my favorite album of the year also agrees [music of 2010 post to follow shortly].

* The story behind this series, its author, and his marketing plan are a pretty fun (if somewhat infuriating) read too.

I Want to Tell You Something

So I picked this up a bit ago and I’m ready to put it to use. I’m not entirely sure for how long, but I’d like to try to eek out a postcard a day to kick off 2011. I think part of this process will be a game. I’m working it out as I go along. I’m going to call it “I Want to Tell You Somethng” and I want you to play along:

If you would like to get a postcard in the mail at some point next year, please email your address to anterobot asperand gmail dot com.

YA and “the rigors of navigation”

Mentioned by Peter more than a year ago, I’ve just started reading The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing. M.T. Anderson’s prose is consistently impressive. Check out these two sentences as an example of the consistent gymanistics he pulls off throughout:

He worked with me word by word, leaning over my shoulder as I parsed my way through Tacitus and Homer; which instruction must have seemed to him not unlike the sea-captain, who having braved the catastrophic blasts and giddy precipices of the maelstrom, and but skated to their side; having passed with expert haste through the clashing Simplegades; having sat in the green eye of the hurricane, sounded by the hulking wrecks of other, less fortunate, fleets; now wades through with a little nephew in the warm shallows, collecting trash and pretty bits of shell. He must have looked out to sea with his glass sometimes, and wished for the spray, and men with whom he could truly speak of the rigors of navigation.

Looking at another of his books, Feed, I’m really enjoying the way M. T. Anderson’s playful flare in utilizing language demonstrates YA as a legitimate, “serious” form of literature.

Life Turned into a Database

Information systems need to have information in order to run, but information underrepresents reality. Demand more from information than it can give, and you end up with monstrous designs. Under the No Child Left Behind Act of 2002, for example, U.S. teachers are forced to choose between teaching general knowledge and “teaching to the test.” The best teachers are thus often disenfranchised by the improper use of educational information systems.

What computerized analysis of all the country’s school tests has done to education is exactly what Facebook has done to friendships. In both cases, life is turned into a database. Both degradations are based on the same philosophical mistake, which is the belief that computers presently represent human thought or human relationships. These are things computers cannot do.

– From Jaron Lanier’s manifesto, You Are Not A Gadget, a problematic text I’m still ruminating upon.

“Consequent Confidence” And The Books Our Kids Read

“Social hegemony [as] … spontaneous’ consent given by the great masses of the population to the general direction imposed on social life by the dominant fundamental group; this consent is ‘historically’ caused by the prestige (and consequent confidence) which the dominant group enjoys because of its position and function in the world of production.” – Antonio Gramsci