In response to Mary’s insights about bans on tattoos: I personally feel that it is absolutely an infringement on one’s right to self-expression when we ban tattoos. Furthermore, I think that the general conceptions mainstream society ascribes to individuals with tattoos create an environment where people are supposed to feel ashamed or self-conscious about their bodies; and I find this aspect to be the most upsetting of all. The articles on tattoo bans are outrageous. Even if someone does not personally feel inclined to get a tattoo or tattoos does not mean that other people should be judged for their decisions to do so. This form of expression is just one aspect of who a particular person is and should not be taken as signifiers of who they are altogether, but at the same time, why are tattoos considered to be something bad at all? No one has the right to dictate who or what another individual is or chooses to do as long as it is not doing harm to others.
One of the most striking things I have taken from this semester is the recognition of how scared people are. I think I knew this before, but working with, and discussing banned books and reasons for why things are banned has made me even more aware of how much society seeks to control and close itself off from things that are different, or from challenges to a set and accepted social convention. There is such a strong undertone of paranoia and taboo which drives so much of how society functions, and it has people paralyzed with fear to an extent that they do not even fully recognize or understand.
The children’s literature genre, in particular, must face this problem even more so. Adults want to protect their children from that which they see has harmful. There is more “justification” available to control what children are reading. But is it not more devastating to protect young children from the world only to have them discover the truths and ugliness later on? Isn’t there some sort of a balance where kids can be protected but not deluded?
In the Hettinga article, L’Engle is described as a “spiritual explorer” who refuses to be “pigeonholed.” Her writing is not tidy or controllable, and she does not clearly define herself. Although she is a Christian and a writer, L’Engle is often met with criticism from conservative Christians. I think this is because she does not stick to a preset, accepted version of what Christianity is considered to be.
L’Engle is not afraid to push her readers towards a message even if that message is something society does not address. The childhood icons of a blanket or loved stuffed animal express how L’Engle’s icons say more than what they literally represent. “The blanket…is not a blanket, nor is the animal a mere animal, they are icons of all-rightness in a world that early shows itself to be not all right.” For L’Engle, suffering is an essential part of life (Abernethy). She feels that it brings one closer to God and indicates that one has lived, but society tries in vain to shelter children and does not allow them to grieve for the circumstance inherent in their mere existence.
Children are much more perceptive than most adults tend to believe. L’Engle believes that we must risk in life. To be intimate and vulnerable with others is to risk, and there is a great fear in doing so. People, like penguins, “avoid intimacy to avoid pain” (Hettinga). But pain is not something one can or should want to avoid because it is a part of life and a part of being human. L’Engle has her own way of looking at the world and of reflecting on it. Her writing pushes readers to confront difficult and often uncomfortable questions and then deal with them.
Young readers should not be underestimated. Galbraith touches upon an interesting point when she recognizes “a shared human predicament of existence.” Children are similar to adults insofar as they are human beings and then peers. Children are often able to see things that adults can no longer see for themselves. Like children, adults want to believe in something, but children are simply closer to and more in touch with this very human desire. Rather than trying to keep children protected from the questions they will naturally come to, they should be stimulated and given the opportunities to explore further these very questions as they are presented in various works of literature.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Higher Standards
Of all the different non-literary bans represented in the articles for this week, the one I was most interested in reading were the ones involving tattoo bans, especially after having returned from a country where tattoos hold a special significance in the culture of the native people, and having picked up a tattoo of my own symbolizing the significance my time there. Not to say the other bans were not as interesting, but surely some of them had at least more reasonable grounds. As much as the “seven dirty words” brings up important issues of freedom of speech, one can at least recognize the power of words to injure and hurt, as especially evidenced in the article from The Atlantic, recognizing especially the painful associations many Americans carry with the word “nigger.” This isn’t to say that words should ever be banned, but at least there is hurtful power of words is recognized. This is the same with smoking, where the awful effects of cigarettes and of second hand smoke have been realized. However, with the issue of tattooing, and also of baggy, sagging jeans, even these arguments don’t exist. The reasons for such bans are feebly given answers related to issues of “public decency,” something that is hard to argue when saggy pants don’t actually expose private parts and tattoos are only indecent if the content of the tattoo is something objectionable. Would any really argue that a tattoo of a bunny rabbit or a butterfly is indecent? Sergeant Major Carlton Kent, from the article in Time, even has the audacity to say that this tattoo ban within the Marine Corps is because "Marines hold themselves to a higher standard than everyone else.” I have so many objections to this blanket statement it’s hard to know where to start. What standards might you be speaking of, Sergeant Major Kent? If you’re speaking of a moral standard, then it is certainly hard to believe that an outright ban on anything would ever constitute a higher standard, especially when you have many cultures where tattoos are a symbol of pride and the more tattoos one have may actually signify their higher standing in the community. Do the Marines then assume they are at a higher level of moral reasoning than these cultures? Now to be fair, the legislation is certainly not aimed at these cultures, but rather on the average Joe Marine who gets whatever meaningless bullshit tattoo he sees in the tattoo shop every other weekend. However, should Marines who view tattooing as a serious and symbolic body art be punished because a couple of guys getting tattoos of flaming skulls and naked girls on motorcycles lower the “standards” of the Marines? Besides, don’t you think simply saying that the Marines have a higher standard than everyone else seems just a bit pretentious doesn’t it? Using that “higher standard” phrase seems like a cop-out to me, like a way to use feeble moral grounds to justifying banning something that the greater powers simply don’t like.
This seems to be the one thing that surprised me the most about this course: seeing the truly feeble reasons people find to ban literature. Often it seems that such literature is the most important and vital to keep around for it changes the way people may think about the world and the way they interpret literature. For people to ban such literature on moral grounds is highly questionable, and shows that perhaps the real reason things are banned are because of people who are afraid of different world views, people who don’t want to see the world any differently, perhaps out of a sense of tradition or elitism, or as a method of though control, out of fear that others reading a “questionable” text may end up disagreeing with authority figures. However, it seems to me anyone who doesn’t constant question authority and the world around them doesn’t really understand the world at all, and thus keeping these books in circulation should be a high priority for lovers of knowledge everywhere. This is the true "higher standard:" not refusing to read literature because of the moral uncertainties contained within, but constantly reading and questioning one's morality to effectively have a better understanding of what that morality means.
This seems to be the one thing that surprised me the most about this course: seeing the truly feeble reasons people find to ban literature. Often it seems that such literature is the most important and vital to keep around for it changes the way people may think about the world and the way they interpret literature. For people to ban such literature on moral grounds is highly questionable, and shows that perhaps the real reason things are banned are because of people who are afraid of different world views, people who don’t want to see the world any differently, perhaps out of a sense of tradition or elitism, or as a method of though control, out of fear that others reading a “questionable” text may end up disagreeing with authority figures. However, it seems to me anyone who doesn’t constant question authority and the world around them doesn’t really understand the world at all, and thus keeping these books in circulation should be a high priority for lovers of knowledge everywhere. This is the true "higher standard:" not refusing to read literature because of the moral uncertainties contained within, but constantly reading and questioning one's morality to effectively have a better understanding of what that morality means.
Language and Perspective
What surprised me the most about this class was how many different interpretations can come out of one literary work. When I read each article or work for the first time, I found myself completely tuned into one or two socially controversial aspects; after a second or third read and the presentations of my peers, my mind was always amazed. Although the class includes students, mostly females, from seemingly similar backgrounds and educations, each one of us can take a completely different approach to the same reading. This class has taught me many things about society, religion, and perspectives of the past and present but most of all has shown me the power in difference and individualism. Without variety in world views, the class would not have gotten anywhere. I believe that the individual presentations added to the range of discussions in a way that no teacher alone could have done.
On the topic of individualism and the differences of perspectives, I think it is appropriate that we end the class with A Wrinkle in Time and the articles associated with the book’s banning and interpretations. From the interview between Bob Abernethy and Madeleine L’Engle, one can see that L’Engle herself promotes writing for the sake of writing and expressing oneself rather than for public acceptance. She sees writing as a source of personal therapy for the author: “I am very grateful that I have a journal, and that I can write because that helps me to objectify things that might just mess me around emotionally, otherwise” (Abernethy 2). From this standpoint, writing is for the author and the interpretation of the work of writing is the work of the reader. Just as I gather different ideas from readings than other students in the class, readers from different backgrounds (religiously, economically, racially, socially) apply their own perspectives to develop interpretations. How can we ban writing, a form of the author’s free and personal speech, when writing is not what causes differences in perspectives, and therefore conflicts of interest and potential banning, to exist?
The value of perspective is also limited by the basic methods of communication of writing and speaking. From the internet articles on the banning of curse words and from Donald Hettinga’s article “A Wrinkle in Faith,” one can see that language as a form of expression often proves inadequate for the emotions or ideas that the author or speaker would like to convey. Pinker’s article “Why We Curse: What the F***?” takes a scientific approach to the different interpretations of language and cursing in saying that “Curses provoke a different response than their synonyms in part because connotations and denotations are stored in different parts of the brain” (Pinker 3), that certain words invoke certain connotations beyond the control of language itself. Hettinga’s article also discusses the incapability for language and writing to represent a whole idea or feeling in criticizing the way that some people try to literally interpret the Bible and to “reduce our understanding to something that fits human paradigms but misses the divine mark”. When people get caught up in literally trying to read and understand words rather than the whole idea, they often miss the point of the writing and develop misconstrued interpretations of works. Instead of getting caught up in what may seem like profound anti-religious or anti-feminist statements, readers should read a work and appreciate the author’s attempts to articulate his or her inner emotions and thoughts. Banning should not be applied to works of language when language has proven itself to be inaccurate and so easily misinterpreted.
On the topic of individualism and the differences of perspectives, I think it is appropriate that we end the class with A Wrinkle in Time and the articles associated with the book’s banning and interpretations. From the interview between Bob Abernethy and Madeleine L’Engle, one can see that L’Engle herself promotes writing for the sake of writing and expressing oneself rather than for public acceptance. She sees writing as a source of personal therapy for the author: “I am very grateful that I have a journal, and that I can write because that helps me to objectify things that might just mess me around emotionally, otherwise” (Abernethy 2). From this standpoint, writing is for the author and the interpretation of the work of writing is the work of the reader. Just as I gather different ideas from readings than other students in the class, readers from different backgrounds (religiously, economically, racially, socially) apply their own perspectives to develop interpretations. How can we ban writing, a form of the author’s free and personal speech, when writing is not what causes differences in perspectives, and therefore conflicts of interest and potential banning, to exist?
The value of perspective is also limited by the basic methods of communication of writing and speaking. From the internet articles on the banning of curse words and from Donald Hettinga’s article “A Wrinkle in Faith,” one can see that language as a form of expression often proves inadequate for the emotions or ideas that the author or speaker would like to convey. Pinker’s article “Why We Curse: What the F***?” takes a scientific approach to the different interpretations of language and cursing in saying that “Curses provoke a different response than their synonyms in part because connotations and denotations are stored in different parts of the brain” (Pinker 3), that certain words invoke certain connotations beyond the control of language itself. Hettinga’s article also discusses the incapability for language and writing to represent a whole idea or feeling in criticizing the way that some people try to literally interpret the Bible and to “reduce our understanding to something that fits human paradigms but misses the divine mark”. When people get caught up in literally trying to read and understand words rather than the whole idea, they often miss the point of the writing and develop misconstrued interpretations of works. Instead of getting caught up in what may seem like profound anti-religious or anti-feminist statements, readers should read a work and appreciate the author’s attempts to articulate his or her inner emotions and thoughts. Banning should not be applied to works of language when language has proven itself to be inaccurate and so easily misinterpreted.
Language-As-Weapon
In Pinker’s piece Why We Curse, he writes that “Language has often been called a weapon, and people should be mindful about where to aim it and when to fire.” This concept of language-as-weapon certainly helps illuminate what, exactly, is so threatening about literature. Though words are, in theory, “arbitrary labels” (Pinker in Freedom’s Curse) they nonetheless possess the power to alter the world in significant ways. That each book we have read over the course of this semester has been viewed as a “weapon” is evident: they have all, at some point in time, been banned. Yet perhaps part of the weapon-like quality of the books lies not in the books themselves but in the readers’ interpretations.
For example, Pinker writes that “the common denominator of taboo words is the act of forcing a disagreeable thought on someone.” He then evokes the example “To hear nigger is to try on, however briefly, the thought that there is something contemptible about African Americans.” While this word might be “weapon-like” to the extent that it may cause a reader discomfort or pain, its purpose in the type of literature we have been studying is rarely to harm. Rather, as in Huck Finn, its purpose is to enlighten; to cause the reader to consider the implications of a word by “trying it on.” The deeper understanding that ensues as a result of this discomfort is worth the initial pain.
I’m not attempting to refute Pinker’s point about the weapon-like quality of language entirely. Indeed, I agree with him that “the lazy use of profanity can feel like a series of jabs in the ribs.” I simply think it worth noting that something that might appear weapon-like (i.e. the use of the n-word in novels like Huck Finn or the mingling of religion and science in novels like A Wrinkle in Time) is not necessarily so and that from these apparent weapons comes growth.
What I found most interesting about these articles was the extent to which they highlight the dangers of language and fiction. Though I argued above that not all weapon-like literature is truly destructive, I still appreciate Pinker’s point that language can act as a weapon. In Hettinga’s article, I think it particularly interesting when he writes “when fiction is not read as fiction but as philosophy or aphorism, the reader, however well-intentioned, does the writer a significant injustice.” I think this is a major danger present to the uneducated reader – especially those who interpret novels like A Wrinkle in Time or The DaVinci Code as actual philosophy or history. This type of literal reading is exactly that which we are taught not to do in the classroom.
Finally, what I found most surprising about this semester was the manner in which I was able to relate our readings to my world and, in particular, to my service learning. Never before have I taken a class that asked me to consider its content in the context of my surroundings and connect the two in such an explicit way. I don’t think a single week passed where I was unable to connect our course readings to the world and/or to my service experience. This method infused both the readings as well as my reality with more meaning and opened my eyes to the interplay between literature and life.
For example, Pinker writes that “the common denominator of taboo words is the act of forcing a disagreeable thought on someone.” He then evokes the example “To hear nigger is to try on, however briefly, the thought that there is something contemptible about African Americans.” While this word might be “weapon-like” to the extent that it may cause a reader discomfort or pain, its purpose in the type of literature we have been studying is rarely to harm. Rather, as in Huck Finn, its purpose is to enlighten; to cause the reader to consider the implications of a word by “trying it on.” The deeper understanding that ensues as a result of this discomfort is worth the initial pain.
I’m not attempting to refute Pinker’s point about the weapon-like quality of language entirely. Indeed, I agree with him that “the lazy use of profanity can feel like a series of jabs in the ribs.” I simply think it worth noting that something that might appear weapon-like (i.e. the use of the n-word in novels like Huck Finn or the mingling of religion and science in novels like A Wrinkle in Time) is not necessarily so and that from these apparent weapons comes growth.
What I found most interesting about these articles was the extent to which they highlight the dangers of language and fiction. Though I argued above that not all weapon-like literature is truly destructive, I still appreciate Pinker’s point that language can act as a weapon. In Hettinga’s article, I think it particularly interesting when he writes “when fiction is not read as fiction but as philosophy or aphorism, the reader, however well-intentioned, does the writer a significant injustice.” I think this is a major danger present to the uneducated reader – especially those who interpret novels like A Wrinkle in Time or The DaVinci Code as actual philosophy or history. This type of literal reading is exactly that which we are taught not to do in the classroom.
Finally, what I found most surprising about this semester was the manner in which I was able to relate our readings to my world and, in particular, to my service learning. Never before have I taken a class that asked me to consider its content in the context of my surroundings and connect the two in such an explicit way. I don’t think a single week passed where I was unable to connect our course readings to the world and/or to my service experience. This method infused both the readings as well as my reality with more meaning and opened my eyes to the interplay between literature and life.
The Slippery Nature of Interpretation and Banning
Perhaps the thing that has surprised me the most about this semester is the reasoning behind the bans placed against the books on our reading list. Some reasons seem to suggest that the person may not have even read the book, such as the accusations that Ms. Whatsit is a witch and that A Wrinkle in Time promotes witchcraft seem way off base. Other bans seem to suggest a cultural reversion to judgmental opinions, such that The Color Purple should be banned because of the sexual relationship between Shug and Celia when I am not sure if I could label either woman as a lesbian, I don’t think that label would do justice to the transformative and profound nature of their relationship that is less about sex, and more about self-discovery.
For me, I would be more concerned about the violence and the accepting attitudes towards it rather than the description of love. Thus the bans seem misguided to me, and even more so, misleading to the reader who hasn’t read the book yet and is forced to adhere to one person’s interpretation rather than giving the person the opportunity to make an opinion of their own. Even more so than that, what makes something indecent? And what happens to free speech in the cases of banning?
This then transitions to Steven Pinker’s ideas on the legislation of the FCC that defines "indecency" as "material that describes or depicts sexual or excretory organs or activities". And yet they rule that the use of the “F” word as an adjective is perfectly acceptable? Everything is subjective when it comes to bans or FCC fines because it is ultimately in the hands of a small group of people who cry foul that leads to censorship across the board. Perhaps a better definition for indecency could simply be any word usage that degrades or defiles a person. It’s strange to me that the FCC doesn’t factor in discrimination when they wrote their rules.
I personally have been desensitized to the “F” word due to the high exposure to it in school, music, movies, and sometimes just passing by a stray conversation. Thus it doesn’t offend me nearly as much as the “N” word or the “C” word. Earlier this semester, I reviewed a comedian’s performance on campus where he used both the “N” and the “C” word several times. And yet most people reacted to my review (in online comments) negatively saying that I was too uptight and oversensitive (and most not in a very polite manner for that fact). And there were a few people who defended me and some who thanked me in person. Language can be a very dangerous thing. And yet again subjectivity comes into play.
Shifting to the articles on L’Engle and literature specifically, I enjoyed Hettinga’s description of her as a storyteller over a theologian, an opinion that she echoed in the interview piece that we read. It is true that the answers to her questions have a faith-influenced principle to it and yet she is against literalistic interpretations of the Bible and often chooses the universal message. Parts of the author will and should show up on the page whether it is the style or their beliefs and yet to say that every story is a translated autobiography would take away from the fiction and the storytelling that she is really trying to get across. To see her as this mere philosopher would take away from her imaginative presence on the page. She gives a universal message but the message is only one piece of the pie. In addition to that we have seen in the multiple reasons behind bans how one interpretation certainly doesn’t account for all. Mary Gailbraith says it for me when she writes, “I don’t see that we are really getting to the heart of the literature we specialize in interpreting.”
For me, I would be more concerned about the violence and the accepting attitudes towards it rather than the description of love. Thus the bans seem misguided to me, and even more so, misleading to the reader who hasn’t read the book yet and is forced to adhere to one person’s interpretation rather than giving the person the opportunity to make an opinion of their own. Even more so than that, what makes something indecent? And what happens to free speech in the cases of banning?
This then transitions to Steven Pinker’s ideas on the legislation of the FCC that defines "indecency" as "material that describes or depicts sexual or excretory organs or activities". And yet they rule that the use of the “F” word as an adjective is perfectly acceptable? Everything is subjective when it comes to bans or FCC fines because it is ultimately in the hands of a small group of people who cry foul that leads to censorship across the board. Perhaps a better definition for indecency could simply be any word usage that degrades or defiles a person. It’s strange to me that the FCC doesn’t factor in discrimination when they wrote their rules.
I personally have been desensitized to the “F” word due to the high exposure to it in school, music, movies, and sometimes just passing by a stray conversation. Thus it doesn’t offend me nearly as much as the “N” word or the “C” word. Earlier this semester, I reviewed a comedian’s performance on campus where he used both the “N” and the “C” word several times. And yet most people reacted to my review (in online comments) negatively saying that I was too uptight and oversensitive (and most not in a very polite manner for that fact). And there were a few people who defended me and some who thanked me in person. Language can be a very dangerous thing. And yet again subjectivity comes into play.
Shifting to the articles on L’Engle and literature specifically, I enjoyed Hettinga’s description of her as a storyteller over a theologian, an opinion that she echoed in the interview piece that we read. It is true that the answers to her questions have a faith-influenced principle to it and yet she is against literalistic interpretations of the Bible and often chooses the universal message. Parts of the author will and should show up on the page whether it is the style or their beliefs and yet to say that every story is a translated autobiography would take away from the fiction and the storytelling that she is really trying to get across. To see her as this mere philosopher would take away from her imaginative presence on the page. She gives a universal message but the message is only one piece of the pie. In addition to that we have seen in the multiple reasons behind bans how one interpretation certainly doesn’t account for all. Mary Gailbraith says it for me when she writes, “I don’t see that we are really getting to the heart of the literature we specialize in interpreting.”
final blog
The most important thing I learned in "Banned Books" was not only how to approach and understand the intimidation many people feel when it comes to controversial topics, especially when it comes to literature, but also how gratifying it can be to break down the wall that seems so daunting. In doing so, a person can gain a sensitivity that will never fail to bring compassion to another, and also a heart and mind that long to understand what it means to feel emotion from another's perspective.
This idea of people fearing discomfort ties into my thoughts after reading Bob Abernethy's "Profile: Madeleine L'Engle Religion & Ethics Newsweekly Profile," because the interview discusses the many rejections L'Engle faced when trying to publish "A Wrinkle in Time."
ABERNETHY: A WRINKLE IN TIME is a science-fiction fantasy that has sold more than six million copies and is now in its 66th printing. Readers still send Madeleine copies of that book and others to autograph, and she says she never tires of signing them.
MS. L'ENGLE: Never, because anyone who has received as many rejection slips as I have is not going to complain about autographs.
Why would people criticize and fear L'Engle's book? Largely because of it's controversial religious messages. Anything that might stir an uproar is typically feared by publishers, and L'Engles inclusion of witches and dark forces seem anti-Christian to many parents. L'Engle also includes religion and science together and views them as two juxtaposed and interrelated elements, which irks many extremists who believe it either has to be one way or the other.
David Hettinga's piece, "A Wrinkle in Faith," draws attention to the extremity to which L'Engle's book has been criticized. "Ministers preach sermons against her; books and articles denounce her and any Christians who evaluate her work favorably or even evenly; librarians in Christian schools and churches handle her books as though they carried dangerous
heresies, sometimes relegating them to back shelves where patrons must ask specifically for them, and sometimes banning them altogether," he explains. It is strange to me how widely L'Engle has been criticized for "A Wrinkle in Time," largely because, in my opinion, if a child were to read it, he or she most likely wouldn't understand the underlying religious meanings.
It seems that the main issue most Christian's have with L'Engle's faith is that she realizes that it is something that must be grappled with. She vascillates, leaving room for personal interpretation. She never tells anyone what to think, but she encourages us to ask our own questions. This makes her seem insecure in her faith, and so many strict Christians frown upon it--they would like things to be absolute, but L'Engle claims that things are never absolute.
Mary Gailbraith's "Hear My Cry: A Manifesto for an Emancipatory Childhood Studies Approach to Children’s Literature" emphasized that children should not be used as a mere device for parents to live vicariously. The recognition of children as a silenced group is a solid reason not to ban books in the first place. A child's creativity and wonder can be stifled by parents who try to protect them too much.
The articles on banning smoking, baggy pants, cursing, and tattoos also reinforced this idea of cutting off something that is controversial, but at the same time tied together the idea that stifling freedom of expression is also a product of fear. People want to believe that things should be one absolute way, and any questioning of authority challenges the way they see the world. Writers like L'Engle, however, make it known that the way the world is depends on what lense you use.
This idea of people fearing discomfort ties into my thoughts after reading Bob Abernethy's "Profile: Madeleine L'Engle Religion & Ethics Newsweekly Profile," because the interview discusses the many rejections L'Engle faced when trying to publish "A Wrinkle in Time."
ABERNETHY: A WRINKLE IN TIME is a science-fiction fantasy that has sold more than six million copies and is now in its 66th printing. Readers still send Madeleine copies of that book and others to autograph, and she says she never tires of signing them.
MS. L'ENGLE: Never, because anyone who has received as many rejection slips as I have is not going to complain about autographs.
Why would people criticize and fear L'Engle's book? Largely because of it's controversial religious messages. Anything that might stir an uproar is typically feared by publishers, and L'Engles inclusion of witches and dark forces seem anti-Christian to many parents. L'Engle also includes religion and science together and views them as two juxtaposed and interrelated elements, which irks many extremists who believe it either has to be one way or the other.
David Hettinga's piece, "A Wrinkle in Faith," draws attention to the extremity to which L'Engle's book has been criticized. "Ministers preach sermons against her; books and articles denounce her and any Christians who evaluate her work favorably or even evenly; librarians in Christian schools and churches handle her books as though they carried dangerous
heresies, sometimes relegating them to back shelves where patrons must ask specifically for them, and sometimes banning them altogether," he explains. It is strange to me how widely L'Engle has been criticized for "A Wrinkle in Time," largely because, in my opinion, if a child were to read it, he or she most likely wouldn't understand the underlying religious meanings.
It seems that the main issue most Christian's have with L'Engle's faith is that she realizes that it is something that must be grappled with. She vascillates, leaving room for personal interpretation. She never tells anyone what to think, but she encourages us to ask our own questions. This makes her seem insecure in her faith, and so many strict Christians frown upon it--they would like things to be absolute, but L'Engle claims that things are never absolute.
Mary Gailbraith's "Hear My Cry: A Manifesto for an Emancipatory Childhood Studies Approach to Children’s Literature" emphasized that children should not be used as a mere device for parents to live vicariously. The recognition of children as a silenced group is a solid reason not to ban books in the first place. A child's creativity and wonder can be stifled by parents who try to protect them too much.
The articles on banning smoking, baggy pants, cursing, and tattoos also reinforced this idea of cutting off something that is controversial, but at the same time tied together the idea that stifling freedom of expression is also a product of fear. People want to believe that things should be one absolute way, and any questioning of authority challenges the way they see the world. Writers like L'Engle, however, make it known that the way the world is depends on what lense you use.
And for the finale...
I forgot to write about what I found surprising (or discomforting) about this semester. Probably the aspect of our class that surprised and upset me most was the ungodly amount of stereotypes our culture has. Now, we basically go out of our way to make sure we're NOT stereotyping, and sometimes, doing that makes us unconsciously commit the crime we're trying to avoid. In most of the books we've read, there has been some model of a stereotype, whether it be racial, social, economical, or just out of pop culture (Meg as the stereotypical nerd, anyone?) What I learned from this experience is to be open to new people as much as possible, even when you still have unconscious feelings you may not be able to control. I especially learned not to stereotype when it came to my service-learning site in Baltimore. I can now say I know the kids I've worked with, and I don't just see them as a "representative of a certain culture." Literature has revealed how biased and flat out unfair our society has been in the past, and it made me appreciate how much we have grown since then. On the other hand, this literature from the past still calls for social justice issues that are still present today to be addressed. That's the magic of a good book-- it works in any time and place.
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