The Last House On The Left On Mango Street

Hello, Ladies

I'm making a concerted effort to read more female authors in YA; they write kick-ass books and tell stories that have broad appeal, but also examine the human experience in ways I cannot. My reading habits tend toward "boy" books.* If we're going to reduce reading tendencies to gender lines, I'm definitely in the boy category, for two reasons: 1) Those books appeal to me; 2) The demise of boys as readers is a well-documented trend, albeit somewhat played-up for media hype. There's an article out there in the great big world that I'm too lazy to find that use NAEP** data, the most comprehensive national measure of reading levels in the United States, in which the data shows that male academic achievement isn't necessarily declining, but the rates have stagnated while female achievement has jumped significantly in the last two decades. Whether there's a correlation to the emergence of YA as a legitimate literary form that's ruled by women, I'll leave to the professionals. Besides, my office is a mess and I can't do a longitudinal study until I've straightened up, but by then it will be lunch and then I'll have to take the dog to the park and I just won't have the time. Sorry. 

At the moment, we're in the midst of an intriguing trend, and I'm taking it upon myself to explore this mystery land of female authors, non-vampire region, and build bridges across the great gender divide that really isn't as big as it seems. After all, the most popular YA non-vampire books penned by women have mass appeal: Harry Potter, Hunger Games, The Giver, The Outsiders. Nancy Drew must be rolling over in her cardigan sweater. We're (glacially) moving beyond gender-specific literature, I think, and that's a small part of the reason we're seeing more even achievement rates. Nevertheless, girls are foreign and scary to me, so I must know their quirks lest they destroy me. 

When these YA powerhouses of yesteryear teamed up, girls screamed, boys fainted. Feathered hair everywhere.

[*I have been making my way through the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine book series of late, and most of the books are written by women, many of whom live in Portland, Oregon. I don't get it, either.]

[**My school is continually chosen to participate in NAEP. I'm the school testing coordinator, so this always falls to me. What a waste of an afternoon.]

Finally, a book review

I just read The House on Mango Street. It's a brief read. It has lots of short sentences. Most are simple declarations. Choppiness usually drains me. Drains my will to live. Somehow, it works. 

Sandra Cisneros provides a panorama of a lower class neighborhood in Chicago, presumably in the 1950s or 60s, as evidenced by the narrator's thinly-veiled swipe at the suburban flight trend of the time period. This is best brought to life by young Esperanza's "all brown all around" policy of evaluating her own safety on the street. It might as well serve as the olly oxen free call of the neighborhood.

Cisneros raises many issues in such a short piece, from the role of women in Mexican society to image-conscious culture, objectification and oppression of women, even domestic and sexual abuse. All the while, Esperanza is trying to create her own identity so that she can get out - she sees the dead-end lives of the women of Mango Street and knows she wants more; these thoughts punctuated by her own mother's laments of her own youth, and women of fading beauty bored at the window, cooped up inside by their absent husbands. 

So, what can a guy like me learn from this book? "Girls have it hard" is too simplistic; "the socioeconomic climate of Mango Street, reinforced by one's inability to escape, creates a menacing singularity for young women through which they slip into their oppressive futures before they're conscious of the change" is more like it, but that's not how I'd deliver it to middle school students. Perhaps it's best to focus on the unsettling idea of a young person trying to get home; not their house, but a place they can't describe, but will know when they get there, and if they can, they'll come back for you.

Sandra Cisnernos talks about Mango Street: 

Boring Stuff

The House On Mango Street

Sandra Cisneros

1984 Arte Publico

1991 Vintage Contemporary

Lexile: 870
People who care about that: 0

Amazon

Persecutepolis

Make those women nuns, put me in the middle, and it's 8th grade all over again. SLAAAAYYEERRRRR!!

Persepolis

This book is a social studies teacher's dream. Satrapi includes all of the political, religious, and social intrigue of the 1979 Revolution and the Iran-Iraq War as she grows up around it. Not only do we get the complicated factors at play, but round characters whose beliefs and values are challenged by the tumult of the times. The story-telling flows so well as she transitions between night-time raids and sneaking cigarettes from her parents, meshes the deaths of loved ones with pulling pranks at school. The illustrations are grounded, but sell the emotion and intensity when needed. With just a few lines Satrapi conveys feelings that touch us deeply.

A character study of young Marjane could take an entire semester. Where to start? Probably her rejection of religion and exploration of politics, which change with the winds of the revolution, from anti-government communism to seeming to support the republic, to resistance to the changes instituted after the Islamic rebels come to power, coupled with nationalistic fervor when comes the war with Iraq. Gosh, the second time in 1400 years the Arabs invaded! I don't want to know what wrath would rain down if I hid her iPod. (Side note: Satrapi gets 9,000 bonus points from me for liking Iron Maiden. Let's put on their first two albums, pound some brews, and up the irons.) Students could grapple with the idea of western culture portrayed as heathenism, the institution of traditional Islamic sumptuary laws and Marjane's reactions. They could examine her simultaneous life as a fun-loving girl and confused young activist. With Maiden as my witness, Marjane is one of the most compelling people in YA history, and can make teaching Middle East history and culture easy and fun. We may be outsiders, but Marjane Satrapi has given us a valuable vision of the cultural struggle in Iran that continue today. Guess what? It's funny, too.

Persepolis II: Electric Boogaloo

Student: I didn't like Persepolis. It was like a history book. I want to read about people my age who I can relate to. I don't know anything about war.

Me: So, you'd rather read about the internal struggles of someone who is trying to find independence, acceptance, and friends in a place where she feels desperately alone?

Student: Yeah!

Me: Here, read Persepolis 2.

Student: I hate you.

Me: :)

In this volume, instead of introducing outsiders to the inner workings of Iran during its most turbulent years, Marjane becomes the outsider and sets about to find her own identity during her schooling years in Austria, and in her return to post-war Iran. She writes this so well that even big, dumb, filthy boys (me) can identify with her awkward growth spurt, concerns about her looks, and futile quest to find romance, or at least someone to care about her, with bonus smooches. Marjane also chronicles the change she sees in Tehran upon her return, including, but not limited to, her relationships with family and friends. Throw in some blunt honesty about smoking, drug use, and salty language, and Marjane's account comes off as wholly authentic. This book works across the curriculum, and makes a great read all on its own; probably more general appeal than part one, and a great conversation-starter for examining the dynamic of relationships, many of which define who we are as people. A fine read.

Boring Stuff

Persepolis

Marjane Satrapi

2004 Pantheon Books

Amazon

Persepolis II

Marjane Satrapi

2005 Pantheon Books

Amazon

Want more insight? Read an interview with Marjane about the Persepolis I & II.

Watch the dang film.

Knives, Lies, and Videotape

First dates are always awkward.

In which the author reviews the book and alerts you to the pun in the title of this blog entry

Lies, Knives, and Girls in Red Dresses is an engaging study of fairy tales, mythical characters, and their dark subtexts, in verse. Featuring stark silhouette illustrations to punctuate the capabilities of evil within, the book provides us an alternate view of stories we thought we knew. Ron Koertge offers us an epilogue to The Emperor's New Clothes, a valley-girl version of Little Red Riding Hood, and a modern take on The Ugly Duckling that might help explain to the uninformed why some young adults seem so hard to reach. I highly recommend this book to anyone who values the "out-there" literature, or simply enjoys satire. Further, the poetic form might serve to open doors for YA readers to discover more verse, and to dispel any preconceived notions of poetry as a mode of expressing feelings about flowers, an attitude I've often encountered in my classroom. 

Great pun, JB! It works on so many levels. Two, to be exact. 

In which the author defends "graphic" novels and alerts you to the pun in this very heading

Defining the limits of what's appropriate for students to read in school is an ongoing issue. I would have no problem allowing a student to read this book and do some kind of project on it. 

1.) Many of the reviews of this book on Amazon label it graphic and disturbing. Relative to what these people normally read, probably, but it's not graphic in the sense that the author goes into gory detail or uses foul language. Rather, he uses the poetic form to great effect by sparing us much of the detail and letting us fill in with our imagination, much the same as the cautionary children's tales that he twists or tells from a different perspective. 

2.) Part of my job is to assist students in finding books they'll enjoy. As I read this, I was as giddy as a 12-year old girl, a common behavior when I was a 17-year old boy. This is a dark book, which many young readers find valuable. It has the added risque pleasure of approaching some of our squeaky-clean telling of these tales (Disney, Pixar, et al) to reveal the sordid motives underneath. Turns out humans are easily corrupted, and ogres are matter-of-fact about their taste for man-flesh. 

3.) The heading pun was cheap, but I'm not out to win any awards. 

In which the author provides more context and confuses himself as to the issue

Compare this book to an emerging Hollywood trend: the amplified/bastardized fairy tale. Whatever you call it (my vote is for Aesop's Roid Rage), Koertge's book arrives as the appeal of this movement grows. Of course, Green Jello, beat them to it, in 1992: 

With the recent proliferation of films such as Snow White and the Hunstman, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters, and the upcoming Jack the Giant Slayer, please, raise your hand if you don't see the pattern. 

[Classic Tale(Ultra Violence)+2(Sex)2  * focus group full of morons] = what film producers think we want.

What does this mean for YA readers? It seems like this is a transition; an adult version of something from one's childhood. This is the link between the two stages; this is what it means to be grown up! In fact, Koertge creates his own disturbing vision of Hansel & Gretel; they took care of the witch, but hate their parents, and do away with good old dad. There is more to what we've been told; kids can grow up to avenge their horrid past, become just as rotten as their oppressors, and vigilante justice is the name of the game. I recently read an article in The Atlantic, in which the author posited a somewhat specious argument that the rogue-cop film heroes of the 1980s, portrayed memorably by Sylvester Stallone (Rambo), Bruce Willis (John McClain in Die Hard) and Arnold Schwarzenegger (Commando; Kindergarten Cop) were a symbol of the Reagan era of rugged individualism, aggressive foreign policy, and increased defense spending. If that's the case (it's not)*, then what are these new breed of vigilante meters of justice? The author argues that the rogue cop action flick is dying; I would argue that it's taking a different form. Funny, in each of these new fairy tale films the villain is someone who is not quite human and/or lives a lifestyle outside of "normal" bounds; instead of communists or terrorists, they are giants, witches, and glass soldiers. However, dwarfs are acceptable allies. That's either a product of political correctness or Hobbit Fever. Are we saying that the 2010s is the decade of homogenization of our cultural heritage, and that anyone who strays from the narrative will be eliminated? If so, I should be a movie critic for a major magazine, because I can conjure sweeping generalizations from nothing!

In comparison, Koertge's book seems innocuous - a book tinged with dread, Bukowski-like in its wallowing study of depravity among the reprobates, even ending with an environmentalist message, but on the side of the fine line that makes it palatable for YA readers. 

*The author, Noah Gittell, does raise some salient points in his article, particularly about timing of the films' release and the politics of the aforementioned stars, which contribute to a convincing case, but it all doesn't add up. Boyish muscle fantasies come to life + nostalgia + knowing what sells, maybe, but the symbol of a political era? I can't make that leap.

Someone get me a pogo stick.

Boring Stuff

Lies, Knives, and Girls in Red Dresses 

Ron Koertge

Andrea Dezso (illustrator)

2012, Candlewick Press

Amazon

Author Website

Nacht

I'm gonna puke. Photo by Steve Higgs

I just read Elie Wiesel's Night for the first time. I will now cry myself to sleep. The English edition is a brief read, and well worth the time. I have not read every published personal account of Holocaust survivors, but this ranks up there with Anne Frank's diary as a powerful first-hand account worthy being an introduction to the subject for YA readers. The dehumanizing effect of this text is (I hope) a new experience for these readers, and it will be a jolt. It's self-evident that every student should know about the Holocaust and its origins. Even this guy. But not to simply know of the depths of human evil and depravity, but to see the capability of our governments, and our collective responsibility to prevent similar outcomes. Whether you believe that this has happened, or that we're doing a lousy job, I don't care, because you're at least having the conversation. 

What's most disturbing to me is the denial and magical thinking of the people in Wiesel's community at every step leading to their arrival at the camps, from believing that the war would end long before the Nazis would arrive in their community, to when they were confined to their homes, shuffled into ghettos, shaken down for their possessions of value, and herded onto the trains. From a socio-psychological point of view, this is morbidly fascinating and worth discussion with YA students in a language arts and/or social studies classroom. What inspired this line of thinking, and how would students react in a similar situation? What does it take to get them to act on their own?

There has been controversy over whether this is memoir, fiction, or both. The spine of the edition I own says autobiography. We know enough about what happened in the towns, in the ghettos, on the trains, in the camps, that even if some of these details are imagined, they're not incredibly far-fetched. I'm inclined to agree with the Syracuse faculty member, Karen Hall, who said, that the "literature of trauma" is invariably subjective: “For me, then, ‘Night’ is 100 percent true in its call to readers to remember the Holocaust, listen to and learn from its survivors, and never to allow such an event to take place again." Autobiographies and memoirs are inherently inaccurate, as banked memories fade or distort details, or are skewed by perspective. That should not lessen the impact of this book.* This leads  to a more abstract discussion about truth, fiction, and the ramifications thereof, that concrete YA readers might not be able to grasp, but could work with a more sophisticated group. 

Boring Stuff

Night, by Elie Wiesel

Latest edition: 2006 Hill & Wang

New translation by Marion Wiesel

Amazon

 *Look, the line spacing changed and I don't care to fix it!

Walkaboot

Excuse me, can you please direct me to the instant gratification? In English?

A Multicultural Clash

In James Vance Marshall's novel Walkabout, two young Americans find themselves marooned in the Australian wilds, mindlessly wandering to their doom, when they meet a naked Aboriginal boy, who kindly allows them to follow him on his walkabout, the rite of passage into manhood required of all young boys; weeks of solitary survival in the wild.

Marshall's novel serves as a geographic and biology primer for the continent, to the point that social studies teachers might want to integrate the book into relevant units, but also covers larger themes, such as the clash between two differing cultures and distrust of the unknown. I, for one, will happily discuss the gratuitous overuse of the term "darky" that the white children use to describe the unnamed Aboriginal boy - a conscious choice by the author. This book can facilitate asking the hard questions, such as:

1. How would you respond to meeting the Aboriginal boy if you were in Peter and Mary's situation?
2. What would be your reasons to trust and distrust the stranger?
3. How does the way in which the Americans regard the boy reflect racial attitudes in this country?
4. Could you get along without your cell phone?

YA readers might identify with the characters, who are navigating a strange situation and must communicate with a person who both frightens and mystifies them, given the prevailing cultural attitude towards dark-skinned people in the United States at the time the book was published. They'll be forced to examine their own beliefs and attitudes, and how they would respond in a similar situation. Will they rise to the challenge or  flounder in their own prejudices and fears?

Boring Stuff

Walkabout

James Vance Marshall

New York Review of Books 2012

Originally Published 1959

Amazon

Hey, there's a film version! The kids are being shot at for some reason. That's not in the book.

Walkabout (1971) film trailer. 

Take thy boot from off my heart

It's called graphic novel for a reason

When the modern genius behind Spy vs. Spy takes on an all-timer like Kafka, you know it's a must-read. This adaptation of The Metamorphosis captures the alienation and isolation of Gregor Samsa after his overnight transformation in stark, sharp black-and-white, which dramatically portrays his impending doom and disinterest in life, being reduced to worse than nothing. Kuper throws in some visual goodies, but is faithful to the original story, while updating it for a visual audience that may better latch onto the themes presented: being taken for granted, the pointlessness of hard work, hysterical parents, having your sister clean your room so you can scuttle about. Besides, who better to share the horrors of waking up hideously disfigured than American teenagers. 

Me: What do you think Kafka was trying to express when he wrote of the horror of a man's existential quandary of becoming a revolting creature that his own family wouldn't regard.

Student: Oh gross, that's like having a zit.

Me: We have a winner.  

Boring Stuff:

Franz Kafka, adapted by Peter Kuper

The Metamorphosis

Crown Publishing 2003

Amazon