Book #54: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Book #54: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

October 25, 2013


I have my entire weekend packed full of things that I need to do for my job or for my classes. Tonight, my plan was to check out this book from the library right after work, read it all this evening, and get my blog post and the little bit that I would need to do for my YA lit class completed, so I could go on to my other tasks tomorrow and Sunday. Well, mission accomplished, obviously, though I was dismayed to see that this book had over 350 pages when I picked it up today. However, it was a relatively quick read. I'll admit that I'd actually started another book (another one for the course, but that one will be an "independent choice" book that I will give a presentation on in, like, two or three weeks?), but found so little time to read this week that I had to go with a new plan. I'm hoping that, if I'm efficient enough this weekend, I'll be able to read a bit of that other book. Anyway...

Okay, so when I read up a little bit about this book on my local library's website, I didn't get that it would be a love story between the two main characters. I thought that Ari and Dante were sweet, and even though Ari (the narrator) comes off as being really confused about everything (hell, he's a teenager, what teenager isn't confused?...or what person, for that matter?), I had no doubt that he was really a good kid, a good person, really, and that he would make the right choices. Ari and Dante's feelings for each other were obvious from the day that they met, and I found myself rooting for them. Dante wasn't so afraid of his feelings...Ari was.

Let me put this situation into context. The story is set in El Paso, from June of 1987 (the year I was born!) to late summer 1988. That's from the first day that Ari met Dante at the local pool, to the evening that they finally admitted their feelings for each other (or rather, that Ari admitted his feelings for Dante, as Dante had been pretty open about it for like a year at that point). I found it really interesting that the story was set in the late '80's. I don't think that it would be all that much different if it'd been set today, except that maybe Ari and Dante would email or talk on Facebook rather than write letters. It makes me sad to think that a kid would get jumped and beaten just for being gay, but in Texas today...I wouldn't doubt it. I would also like to think that any parents today would be as understanding and supportive as the Mendozas and Quintanas were of their sons, but of course, that's not the case...those parents seem too good to be true. Even though Ari describes his father as being disturbed by his experiences in Vietnam, and emotionally distant, Jaime seems like a very kind, wise man. Ari and Dante are both very lucky to have parents who work hard, and who care about them. Though Dante's parents are a bit more educated and a bit more wealthy than the Mendozas (Dante's dad is a professor, mom's a therapist, while Ari's dad is a mailman, mom's a high school teacher), they all get along well with each other, and have quite a bit in common.

Look, it was never a question that Dante and Ari would get together. What drove the story was Ari himself, and his personal growth. He's 15 at the start of the book, approaching 17 at the end. The summer that he meets Dante, they become best friends. Ari doesn't have many friends; being young and sexually confused, he doesn't really feel comfortable around guys, and thinks most of the kids his age are idiots. He has some friends at school, but isn't very popular, though he does get invited to parties and stuff...he would just rather be alone. God, do I ever get that. I really connected with Ari for that reason. He felt weird about not fitting in, but by the end of the book, he'd come to realize that it was okay for him to want to be alone. He was like his father...and I had a very good impression of Jaime's character. I liked Ari because he reminded me of myself, in some ways.

Ari does a really brave thing that changes his life forever. One afternoon, on a rainy summer day when he and Dante are just hanging out, Dante spots a bird with a broken wing in the middle of the rainy street. Being an animal lover, with an especial soft spot for birds, he decides to mend it, and goes to pick it up. As a car comes speeding around the corner on the slick road, Ari runs into the road and pushes Dante out of the way. Dante ends up with an arm cast; Ari breaks both legs and fractures some part of his arm, too. While Ari is lauded by Dante and all of the adults as a hero, he doesn't want to talk about it. He is uncomfortable with the fact that he did it out of love for Dante. To make matters worse, Dante's family moves to Chicago (temporarily; his father gets some guest professor spot), so Ari is left alone to deal with some very confusing feelings.

Ari begins to grow up that school year. He's attracted to girls, to some extent. He falls for a pretty older girl named Ileana, but she's caught up in some messed up things, has a boyfriend in a gang, and he ends up hurt. He'd only kissed her one time, flirted with her a few times, but he was still hurt...and his recurring dreams seemed to reveal that he feels guilty about liking her, when he knows how Dante feels about him. Ari also seems to have a love-hate relationship with one of his girl friends, Gina, but nothing really comes of that. He later decides that she and Susie, who have been annoying him for years but have also kept him somewhat connected with the social scene, can be his friends, wondering why it's not okay for guys and girls to just be friends. 

Anyway, Dante moves back to El Paso, and though his feelings for Ari are all out in the open (they even kiss, though Ari pretends not to like it), they decide to just be best friends, like they were before. Still, the tension between them is real...again, though, there isn't really a doubt that Ari will eventually come to his senses and see how he really feels. It's just a matter of him deciding. It's actually his parents who help him to admit his real feelings for Dante. I was really surprised by how accepting they were. They're Catholic, and they're Mexican-Americans...the same is true to Dante's parents, and he even attends a private, all boy's Catholic school. You would think there would be more controversy. Then again (and I don't mean this to be condescending, I'm just basing these ideas on my own experiences), the parents are all pretty well-educated, and of the middle class, and more educated people tend to have more...liberal?...views. After all, Jaime is not a fan of Ronald Reagan, and he and Ari jokingly refer to his mother Lilly as being a "fascist" because of her strict rules. So even though the idea of all of the parents accepting and supporting...hell, even helping to bring about...the relationship between the two young men is surprising in itself, the parents are all such nice and level-headed people that it's not at all out-of-character for them. I do wish that all parents could be that way, though it seems that Lilly and Jaime have had some bad experiences with their other son in the past that might lead them to being that much more understanding of Ari.

See, one other issue in this book involves Ari's mysterious older brother Bernardo. Lilly and Jaime had married young; Lilly had their twin daughters when she was 18, her son Bernardo only a year later. Ari came along 12 years after that, after Jaime had been to Vietnam (I almost thought, for a while, that it would be revealed that Ari wasn't actually Jaime's son, but the way it was explained later on, that clearly wasn't the case). When Ari was four, he was sent to stay with his Aunt Ophelia, a lesbian living in Tucson who had been disowned by everyone in her family except for the Mendozas. At that time, Bernardo was on trial...for punching a transvestite hooker to death. When he was fifteen. Which would explain why Lilly was so strict with Ari...he had a temper himself, which showed up when he broke the nose of one of the guys who jumped Dante. But Bernardo sounds bat-shit crazy...he killed someone else while in juvie. How did the kid get so angry? Was it from when his father was in Vietnam? It's unclear whether or not Ari will ever be able to have contact with his brother, who is in prison, of course. Ari spent much of the book feeling angry that Bernardo was a taboo topic at home, that it was like the family had forgotten about him. I'm sure that Ari would see him if he could, even after learning the horrible truth, but Bernardo won't see any of his family. Ari thinks that Bernardo should "get over" his shame, and you know, as horrible as it was what he did, I can't agree with Ari more. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the most important thing I've learned from the books I've been reading is to not let the mistakes of the past bog you down. If you can make things right, try to, but if you can't, you have to let it go at some point and just live. Or die. It seems that to die would be better than to live with shame.

So the secret of the universe, according to this book, would be to not be ashamed. Ari starts to not feel ashamed of his feelings for Dante, and they share a passionate kiss in the desert at the end of the book. I had to go awwwww because I wanted it to happen. This wasn't an earth-shattering work of literature, but it's good to see strong stories with themes about homosexual teens. I don't think any kid should feel bad about being gay in this day and age. I want to believe that as a society, we've become more understanding. Bans on gay marriage are officially unconstitutional, and more and more states are making it officially legal for everyone to marry. Still, as if the teenage years weren't confusing enough, being a gay teen certainly can't be easy. I have a gay parent, so I know a little bit about it. And I can certainly understand being confused and not fitting in. I can understand Ari's loneliness and his pessimistic viewpoints. He also really was a sweet kid, as the adults in his life kept telling him. 

Now, sexual identity was definitely the biggest issue in the book, but racial identity had a place as well. As I noted, the characters are Mexican-Americans. I believe most of the parents, if not all of them, are first-generation Americans, all of whom have broken away from their families' traditions or beliefs in some way or another. For instance, Dante's mother worked her way through school and got a fellowship for her advanced degree to Berkeley, despite her father's belief that girls should not be formally educated. Lilly, as noted, was the only one in her family to keep in contact with Ophelia, and she and her husband and children were the only ones to attend her funeral (Ari inherited her house!). Sam Quintana, an English professor, has parents who don't even speak English at all. Now, in spite of all this, Ari identifies himself as being Mexican. He's darker, and he takes on the tough-guy persona. He can fight, and he's even tossed around the idea of joining a gang (though he knows his mother would never allow it, strict as she is, and his interest doesn't seem serious). Dante, on the other hand, doesn't identify with his Mexican heritage in the least. He comments, several times, that he doesn't feel Mexican, that he doesn't fit in with his poorer cousins. Ari doesn't really get Dante's lack of racial identity. This issue isn't ever really resolved, though they do joke about it a little bit.

This was a nice book. Not one that I would teach to a whole class...not because any of the material is objectionable (it's all rather tame), I just don't think enough students would connect with it to make it worth teaching to a whole group. I could see this book being banned in irrational communities (there are still too many of those) by homophobic, backwards people. I like to think our society is becoming better than that. Progress is slow, to be sure, and gay teens are still attacked and bullied all too often. But I think it's getting better, and I hope to see more quality books centered around gay teens in YA literature.

Part of Raphael's famous painting, The School of Athens. Philosopher Aristotle is the guy in blue; Plato is the older guy in purple. Ari was actually named for his grandfather, Aristotiles. But the connection was always made back to the famous Greek philosopher. Ari hated that; he felt like it made people have high expectations of it. Personally, I think it's kind of cool.

A famous image of Dante Alighieri. Dante's father, being an English professor, came up with the name, of course (though Dante was Italian). I've meant to read a translation of The Divine Comedy...perhaps I'll get to it when this semester is over, and I'm in the mood for some classics again.

Book #53: Mexican WhiteBoy

Book #53: Mexican WhiteBoy by Matt de la Peña

October 20, 2013


This was yet another text assigned for my YA literature course. And so far, it's probably the best book that I've read for this class, and perhaps among one of the best I've read this year. I'd heard of the book previously, but didn't know too much about it. My course instructor told me last week that this book was controversial in Arizona, the state where I earned my undergraduate degree. Arizona (particularly Maricopa County) has become infamous for its racist policies. This book was banned in schools (I know for sure in  Tucson), and according to my instructor, inspired state legislation to ban courses dedicated to Mexican-American literature, because of the popularity of this book. Can't say I was too surprised to hear it, but after reading this book, I am flabbergasted at how asinine such policies are. Did any of those fools even read this book?

In some ways, this book could be considered this generation's version of The Outsiders. No, it's not really about class warfare, per se, but there is a lot of reference to the haves and the have-nots of our society. There's also the activities of the characters (mostly teens), drinking and engaging in sexual activities (but seriously, not at all graphic is described in this book as far as that goes). And as for the drinking, well, let's not be naive here, people. Kids drink. Banning this book and others like it won't stop that. Even the violence in this book isn't too much...there's just enough of it to depict reality.

The main character, Danny, is fascinating in himself, and this book is full of likable, interesting characters. Danny is the "Mexican WhiteBoy" of the title, but he seems to be the only one who really, truly views it as being a bad thing. Though he has a point when he reflects, at one point, that he feels between two worlds, and not fully part of either. I've read other works by mixed-race authors, about such characters, and that seems to be a common feeling between them. Danny felt out of place at his mostly-white private school (I don't know if it's ever fully explained, but I think he got in there on a scholarship for his grades?), and he feels out of place with his father's Mexican family, though they're all friendly and welcoming to him. I am drawn to stories of close families, and the relationship between Danny and his cousin Sofia is especially nice to read about. She looks out for him, because she lives in a tough, mostly-Mexican neighborhood. I guess their neighborhood is called National City, and it's a suburb or subdivision of San Diego. It took me a while to figure it out, and it was driving me nuts...I'm like, I know the major cities of California, where the hell is National City?

Well, it's a beat-up place, and while Danny feels closer to his Mexican roots while he's there, his cousin and his eventual best friend are both looking for a way out. Uno, like Danny, is mixed race, but half-black instead of half-white. He's an amazing athlete, but Danny's talent at hitting and pitching blows him away. He is jealous at first, but grows to respect Danny, and then they become as close as brothers. Uno sees that Danny has a real future ahead of him; in spite of Danny's issues, he has a lot going for him with his natural baseball talent (honed throughout the summer with Uno's help) and his intelligence. Uno has had a tough past, and is looking to leave his mother's house (he is resentful of his drunk, bullying Mexican stepfather, especially of the fact that he sent his stepbrother, who is mentally handicapped, to a home) and get a fresh start in Oxnard, living with his black father and his stepmother and baby half-brother. Uno is a fierce fighter with a temper, but his good heart is clear from the beginning of the book, as his relationship with his stepbrother Manny is described.

The characters in the book look out for family and friends, and are fiercely close. It's confusing, the fact that Danny doesn't speak Spanish. This is examined throughout the book, as Danny wonders why his father (who he believes to be in Mexico, but is actually in prison on an assault conviction, a fact that was kept from him even though he was 13 at the time) never taught him any Spanish. He feels shut out form his family; plus, the girl he likes, Liberty, can only speak Spanish, having recently moved to San Diego from Mexico. Her situation is particularly interesting; I assume that her mother, a Mexican woman, had a one-night stand with a wealthy white businessman or lawyer. Liberty gets her father to sponsor her to the U.S., but she hardly has any contact with him, it seems, as he has a white family in the suburbs. She and Danny are the cutest couple ever by the end of the book, and even though Danny moves back in with his mother at the end of the book, he knows that he has deep enough roots now in his family's neighborhood that he'll be seeing plenty of her.

Sofia aspires to leave National City and attend college, being the first one in her family to do so. She comes across as being proud of being from the 'ghetto,' but she is smart and compassionate and wants more. I wish there had been some more focus on her during the book, but she is very important to Danny's story, being the first one to pull him out of his self-imposed silence. Poor Danny. Since his father left, he hasn't been dealing with it very well. He eventually clams up completely, believing that it does him no good to talk, anyway. He even self-mutilates, digging his fingernails into the insides of his arm when he's in a stressful situation. The people who care about him in National City eventually become wise to this habit, and while they don't really say anything, they show their disapproval and concern with their gestures, slapping his hands or giving him a look. After a particularly stressful scene, Danny uses a pair of tweezers to cut his arm, and Sofia discovers him in the bathroom bleeding. Though there isn't really any explicit resolution to this particular issue, it seems that by the end of the book, as Danny comes to some important realizations about his father and his relationship with him, he seems to have lost the urge to hurt himself.

It took Danny going to a seemingly unsavory neighborhood for the summer to 'save' him. His coming to himself seemed natural in these surroundings; he had friends, and family who were actually concerned for him (unlike his mother, who seemed only concerned for herself, though Danny comes to terms with some of this by summer's end as well). He has gotten control of his pitching, and is primed for a spot on his school's state-winning baseball team. There is hope for Uno, too, as he goes to live with his father, a former drug addict turned Christian philosopher. It's difficult to tell if Senior is another kook, or if he really is wise (I was leaning more towards the latter by the end of the book); Danny has the same feeling when he meets him. But it's easy to see that Uno's life, under his father's influence, will be better than it is with his emotional mother and asshole stepfather. And Sofia, going to stay with Danny, will go to a new public school in a nicer part of San Diego, and will be setting herself up to attend community college the following year. There is hope for the major characters in this book.

Since the discussion in our class always gets around to whether or not we would ever teach this book in our classrooms, I would say, absolutely yes. Perhaps not in my current teaching assignment, but if I ever found myself back in a regular public school, I would totally fit this book into my curriculum. The 'controversial' behaviors in the book are really no more shocking than what's in The Outsiders, a book typical to any 8th grade language arts curriculum. The messages of the book are positive, even if the situations are sometimes a little gritty. Arizona, on the whole, is a backwards-ass state, and I'm definitely glad that I did not end up becoming an educator there. 

An apartment complex adjacent to Las Palmas in National City, CA. I imagine that Carmen's apartment complex is much like this one.

Matt de la Peña. In the book, Danny is often admired for being "cute" by the girls in the neighborhood. I also saw that some of this book is based on the author's own experiences...obviously, part of that would be his looks. He's hot! And look at that dimple!

Book #52: Whale Talk

Book #52: Whale Talk by Chris Crutcher

October 13, 2013


The one positive thing that I can say about being sick (with a head cold) during my birthday weekend is that I had plenty of time to read. Oh, well, 26 isn't that big of a deal anyway, and I can always push my canceled plans to next weekend. I'm still feeling a little achy as I write this...hopefully I feel better in the morning, because I have another long week ahead of me!

This book is another one that I read for my YA lit class. Whale Talk wasn't specifically assigned, but I read it as one of my "independent choice" options. We're supposed to choose texts that cover different genres, so I guess this one would fall under "sports" literature. But, like other Crutcher works that I've read, it's about so much more than sports, though the characters are gifted athletes.

I read two other Crutcher novels for the YA course that I took as an undergrad. There are many similarities between this novel (which I believe is one of Crutcher's best known), and the two others that I read, Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes and Chinese Handcuffs. The setting, for one thing; they're all set in or around Spokane, Washington. Based on these books, or other works that I've read set around the same geographic location, this is a shitty place to live. Racism, child abuse and molestation, violence...sounds like a freaking shithole. But then again, perhaps that has less to do with the setting itself than with the ages of the characters (all high schoolers, upperclassmen, as this is YA literature). One common theme of these three texts is "hell is for children," because the kids in Crutcher's novels have been through some really rough shit.

T.J. Jones is the main character of Whale Talk. One thing that I have to say about the use of this first person narrative: I was sometimes confused as to whether T.J. was speaking in the present tense, or the past tense. The beginning passages would indicate that it was all in the past tense, but the narrative voice was in the present at times. I don't know, that's something that just bothered me and threw me for a loop at times, almost as though the editing for this book was sloppy or something.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that out of the way. T.J. was adopted by the Jones's when he was two. Prior to that he'd lived with his mother, a drug addict who was extremely negligent of him. Young T.J. had emotional problems as a result of this early neglect (and any unknown abuse that he may have suffered, because his drugged out mother wouldn't have been able to protect him...goddamn it, that's so real, and shit like that makes me hate the world sometimes). His parents, white (while he was mixed race, white, black, and Japanese), were good to him, and sent him to a therapist, a black woman named Georgia Brown. Uh, cute, I guess. But she has a way with children who have been in fucked up situations, and has helped T.J. to get over a lot of his trauma. He still goes to see her, though he's approaching 18, but he mostly helps with some of her young patients (like little Heidi...more on her soon).

T.J. seems like a good guy. He's intelligent, and probably because of the prejudice he's faced during his school years, is turned off by the hypocrisies at his school's all-powerful athletic department. A natural athlete himself, he never participates in school sports, until his English teacher bribes/blackmails him into joining a newly-formed swim team.

I have to say, I felt uncomfortable by the relationship between T.J. and Mr. Simet, as described at the beginning of the book. Of course, Mr. Simet is a good guy, a mentoring character for T.J., and eventually the rest of the swim team. I just feel like the kind of closeness that Mr. Simet and T.J. had would be considered inappropriate today (though I was surprised to see that this book was published in 2001...I thought it was a bit older than that). And in stating that, I feel like Crutcher's depiction of the world is more true than I want to admit, that there are many monsters out there. If it weren't for teachers taking advantage of vulnerable students in order to satisfy their own perversions, close mentorships wouldn't be impossible.

There are monsters aplenty in this book, though through the reasoning of T.J.'s mother (a lawyer who deals with social work-type cases, including familial abuse), it is acknowledged that those monsters became that way for a reason. People like her, and her husband (who volunteers with many children's organizations in an attempt to atone for a fatal mistake from his past), work desperately against a deeply ingrained system, and cycle, of abuse and violence in our society. Any educator can tell you that a child from a "troubled" home probably has issues, and has probably become angry over his or her own helplessness in the situation. I know I have, and do, become angry about it all at times. One child in the book who has suffered abuse at the hands of a "monster" is young Heidi, the mixed-race stepdaughter of Rich Marshall, a young wealthy business owner in T.J.'s community. He physically and emotionally abused her because of her race, as her father was a young black football player who became paralyzed during a game (Crutcher lays the drama on thick). T.J. already had plenty of reasons to hate Marshall, including an incident with a fawn, which he tried to protect from Rich (illegally!) killing it. Rich is an irredeemable monster. Crutcher's other books each had one or two of those.

There are also characters who made mistakes. T.J.'s dad, a motorcycle enthusiast, had accidentally killed a baby during his truck driving days, running it over...after having sex with its mother! Oh, and he got the woman pregnant, which T.J. learns when he drives down to visit the woman a few months after his dad was shot dead by Rich Marshall. Uh, yeah, again, Crutcher lays the drama on real thick, which I found to be the case with Chinese Handcuffs (maybe not so much with Staying Fat..., which seemed to have more humor to balance it out). T.J.'s dad felt guilty about the poor baby his whole life, which was what prompted him to take the bullet for Heidi (Marshall's true target).

Anyway, that's only half the story, really. The other half consists of T.J. putting together the swim team so that Mr. Simet could avoid being the assistant wrestling coach under a tyrant. T.J. made it his mission to get misfits of the school to earn a coveted letterman jacket. He was prompted by the bullying of Chris, a mentally challenged young man who was harassed for wearing his dead brother's letter jacket. Chris had been abused and neglected as a child, too, which resulted in his handicap. Along with Chris, T.J. also recruits a tough guy who lost a leg (also as the result of abuse suffered as a child, and was maybe also sexually abused); a guy who, for unexplained reasons, doesn't talk; an obese young man with a drunk, probably emotionally abusive mother; and a couple of other social misfits with less traumatic life experiences, but who nonetheless round out the unlikely team. Their an easy group to cheer for, and I found myself interested in the details about swimming and the meets, if only because my father is a swim coach and I have some knowledge of those things. Basically, T.J. knew that all of their times would improve, regardless of skill, because of all their practicing, and that's how he rigged it for them to get the letter jackets in the end (though the overly proud athletic department put up a fight against it). In fact, T.J. was the only one not to get a jacket, though he was the only one to qualify for state. He ended up throwing his last event, so that his school wouldn't have an edge in the conference championship or something. Fight the machine, T.J.

The world in Crutcher's books is darker than I want to believe the world really is, but his characters are always strong, and there's always a note of hope at the end of his books. Overly dramatic, to be sure, but it's easy to see why his books have been so popular. If it has to be melodramatic, as least it's telling a substantial story with important messages about some very real issues that kids today are forced to go through. Damn, hell really is for children, though I guess I didn't need Crutcher's works to tell me that. It makes me feel good that I do my best with troubled students, and that's all I really can do in this fucked up world of ours, I guess. If more people did like that, like the "good" adults in Crutcher's novels, the world wouldn't be such a messed up place. I have to say that Crutcher presents an unflinching look at the ugliness of the world, rather than ignoring it like so many other works aimed for teens.

One other quick note. There's a short story by Crutcher that I absolutely love called "Fourth and  Too Long." It was published in a collection of short stories, each set in a different decade of the 20th century. I believe that the collection is called Time Capsule, and Don Gallo (an author that I am not familiar with) was the editor or whatever. In Crutcher's story, set in the '60's, a football player in rural Idaho is being threatened with expulsion from his team if he doesn't cut his hair. He's dealt with a lot of shit: he's orphaned, taking care of his senile grandmother because, as an older teen, it's easier than going into the system. They're very poor, but with his careful planning, they get by. He wants a football scholarship, but he wants to keep the hair, as it covers up his ears, which were mangled by a dog when he was young. His resistance is fueled by a Vietnam vet, a traumatized young man who'd once been considered a "fine, upstanding young man" in his community. He'd done as he was told; now, with severe PTSD, he is a shadow of his former self. So the main character ends up switching schools, and playing for a mostly-Native American team, going up against his old team at the end of the story. Of the Crutcher works I've read, that one is my favorite by far. I think I will read more Crutcher short stories in the future; he has a popular short story collection (or two?), so I'll check one out at some point. Maybe with less pages to fill, he takes it easy on the drama, but still gets his important messages across.

Diversity: as far as our country has come, there's still a long way to go when it comes to race relations. This particular photo was used on the University of Iowa's website, where I attend school. Go Hawkeyes.

A letterman jacket. T.J. attended "Cutter High School," but I think their colors were blue and gold, not purple and gold. Still, you get the idea. Letterman jackets are ugly, but I guess, depending on the place, there's some power in their symbolism.

Book #51: Bastard Out of Carolina

Book #51: Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison

October 8, 2013


This is a book that I've been wanting to get my hands on for a while. I was surprised to see it on the curriculum for my YA literature class, as I'd never considered this book to be a young adult read. I still don't, actually. But I was glad to have an excuse to read it, and since I hadn't been able to find it through my local library, I bought a used copy.

I'd never seen the whole movie before, but I was familiar with, at least, a simple overview of the plot: a young girl is sexually and physically abused by her stepfather. That's all central to the plot of the book, certainly, but this is also a family story. The Boatwrights are a notorious family in their county; the men are known for being drunk and violent, and the whole family is viewed as being "trash." Bone, the main character, is well aware of this, but isn't necessarily ashamed of this (at least, not all the time). Indeed, she wants to be like her wild uncles, and even goes so far as to break into a Woolworth's with her cousin. The book tells Bone's life from birth to just before her 13th birthday, after she's been violently assaulted by her stepfather, 'Daddy Glen.' She is abandoned by her mother after this happens, as her mother chooses to stay with her husband, the rapist.

It would be easy to judge Anney, Bone's mother, for what she's done. It seems at the end that Bone has, somehow, forgiven her mother, even admiring her strength for everything that she'd gone through, having Bone when she was fifteen and everything. It's important to consider the time period; Bone was born in the mid-1950's. Plus, the Boatwrights were so dirt poor that they wouldn't have been able to help Anney out much (not that they didn't try). So it's understandable why she would have married Glen in the first place. But to stay with him, after all that? After witnessing what happened? But these characters, Glen and Anney, were just desperate people. Their circumstances don't excuse their behavior, but it does explain it.

Bone describes the way that Glen was treated by his otherwise successful family (he, the black sheep, had a raging temper and couldn't hold down menial jobs for long). Did they treat him that way because he was a piece of shit, or did the treatment make him that way? I'd vote for the latter; I've always firmly believed that monsters aren't born, they're created. It doesn't excuse the way he treated a poor young child, and it doesn't even make me pity him much. During my class tonight, as we discussed this book, I made a comment to the effect that Glen was an underdeveloped man-child with Daddy issues. I find myself hoping that Bone's uncle Neville does find Glen and kill him.

The Boatwrights are an interesting bunch, to say the least. The aunts in particular. Bone is left with her Aunt Raylene, the only aunt without children (Aunt Alma had five, with one that died young; Aunt Ruth had eight). She had run away to work on a carnival, posing as a man. She reveals to Bone that she had been in love with a woman, but had made the woman choose between her and her baby. Her lover chose her baby, the right choice, and Raylene regrets putting her lover in that position. Raylene seems the sturdiest of all of the Boatwright women; Alma had a nervous breakdown not long before Bone's assault, breaking nearly everything in her house and scaring her children to death. Aunt Ruth had died. There was another aunt, Aunt Carr, but she lived in Maryland. It made me sad to think that this family, as wretched as their lives could be, could be so close, but that Aunt Carr would be left out of that. Was her life any better, financially, in Baltimore than it would have been back home? Not many details are given on this aunt.

I was drawn into the family bonds in this book, like Bone's relationship with her Uncle Earle or with her cousins. For me personally, after spending six years living away from my family, I'm glad to be around them again. We've had problems for certain, just as the close-knit Boatwrights did at times. It's unfortunate, but I do feel some distance from some of my family members. I don't feel as close with them, in the ways that matter, like I felt like the Boatwrights did with each other. But here's the thing: maybe it was simply the fact that they were family that held them together, in spite of everything. I guess you would say the same thing for my family, too. Our bonds are not always strong, but we are family. You can't choose your family...damn, don't I know it. Just like Bone couldn't pick hers. But there's so much hope at the end of the book...it almost comes out of nowhere, because she'd never felt any kind of hope before. Was the sight of her birth certificate, wiped clean of the "ILLEGITIMATE" stamped at the bottom, enough to make her image a good life? Bone's future is uncertain; I want to believe that she'll go far, being as smart as she is. But the odds are against her.

I'm in a group giving a presentation/leading a discussion about the second half of the book, next week. It'll be a snap. I chose to do that class requirement for this particular book, simply for the fact that I've been wanting to read it so badly. I think our presentation-thing will go well, because this is such a compelling read. Again, really don't think it's meant for a young adult audience, at least not in the context of a classroom. There's even mention in the afterword of a young teacher who tried to use the book in a high school classroom, and was so traumatized by the backlash and eventual banning that she chose to leave the profession. Experience has taught me this: kids today, on the whole, are more sensitive about what they read in school than you might think. I've never gotten into anything serious over this matter, but it's one that I considered a lot during my first teaching job (with a different prep every hour of the day, and most of them reading or literature classes, I was using a lot of books). I think that  high schools should be able to handle the subject matter in this book, but that's not the reality. Some could; using it as a whole class would be a mistake. Excluding a book like this from the curriculum isn't great, because I honestly feel like this book has a lot of merit, but there are many other great books out there that won't cause trouble, and can still give students important topics to consider. One thing is for certain: this particular book will be staying on my personal shelf, and will never find its way into my current classroom.

The Boatwrights are called "white trash," among other things. I wonder if they would have risen up out of poverty in future generations, or if their descendants would be like this fine folks. Looking at the neighborhood, these people don't seem poor. Then again, they could be going on credit, just as Bone's family kept moving from house to house, living in places they couldn't afford. I'm not trying to judge the particular people in this picture, I'm simply saying that that's something many people today have done, except with mortgages rather than renting. High-rate mortgages, and those damn credit cards, will keep you poor if you're not careful.

The mountains in the southeastern part of our country are not as majestic as the great Rocky Mountains, but they are lovely in themselves. Bone and her cousins are flummoxed when they fine a climbing hook (there may be a proper name for it, but I don't know) in the river by their Aunt Raylene's place, because they know their mountains only require good shoes and energy.

Book #50: The Remains of the Day

Book #50: The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

October 5, 2013


Although I'd previously heard of this title, as well as others by the same author, I don't know much about Ishiguro. I know that his books are very popular; I've had a hard time getting my hands on one through the local library, but I saw that they had copies of this text at the new library. I finally visited it earlier this week...the place is huge, and I hope that I have the chance next weekend to go there and take a better look around.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I was surprised that the book wasn't about Japanese people. See, "ethnic" authors tend to write about their own ethnicities, yet it's not considered unusual for a white Western author to write about people in other cultures or of other races (like with the book covered in my previous entry). Just goes to show, I guess. According to the summaries of some of his other texts at the back of this book, Ishiguro has written about Japanese characters, but also about characters from around the world. Anyway, I thought that was worth noting.

This book was published within my lifetime (when I was only two years old, I guess), and received quite a bit of acclaim. It's well-deserved. This book, told through the eyes of Mr. Stevens, a butler in mid-1950's England, touches on some of the most important themes of humanity. The most important one, I think, is feeling like what you do with your life matters. From a Marxist frame, Stevens' life was dedicated to serving the people of privilege...namely Lord Darlington (what a very proper British name!), a 'gentleman' who died with a sullied name (the story of his downfall and disgrace, as he became associated with Nazis, is told as Stevens recalls important events, certain 'turning points,' in his life). Stevens' life might be viewed as being pretty worthless...I mean, he was the servant of a man whom many people considered foolish at best. Yet it's not possible to deny that Stevens was competent at his job...as a matter of fact, he took it seriously, putting his duties above all else. Some might see that as heartless, but I find it admirable. Though Stevens can come across as being emotionally detached (because that's what was expected of him, professionally), I found him to be very likable.

His memories of Lord Darlington, as he attempts to sort through his complicated feelings for his late employer, make up half of the story. The other half involves Miss Kenton, the housekeeper at Darlington Hall for several years before she got married and left. It becomes more and more clear to the reader (even if Stevens won't allow himself to realize it) that they fell in love with each other. Miss Kenton was, at first, put off by Stevens' overly professional manners, but I think she came to admire, even love him for, his dignity when his father, a member of the house staff, died on the night of an important event at Darlington Hall. Stevens more or less keeps himself together, and he looks back on that night not with regret, but with pride.

Miss Kenton was in love with him, and much more aware of her own feelings (and of his) than he was to any of it. She was desperate to see something more human in him, which led to the scene in his office, when she finds him with a romance novel. And yet, which his explanation for reading it is characteristically professional (he was reading it to try to improve his own speech, as he knew it was an expectation for his position as the butler in a prestigious household), he does admit, in his recollecting, that he enjoyed some of the stories, too. He even expresses some of his own regrets about Miss Kenton leaving and becoming Mrs. Benn, but it seems that in his idea of an ideal life, she would have remained the housekeeper, his professional partner, for the rest of their lives. He even goes to see her in hopes of bringing her back to Darlington Hall (now occupied by a wealthy American, though only with a handful of staff members), since she'd written in a letter that she'd left her husband. Yet he had to have known that she wasn't serious...he knew that she'd left him, and gone back to him, a couple of times before.

A person may be tempted to feel very sad for Stevens. Yet however he came to be so dedicated to his work, he was happiest and most satisfied when he was performing it well. In the end, he is advised not to look back with regret. Mrs. Benn reveals that she has, indeed, returned to her husband, and though she has thought of what her life might have been like (she specifically says, what it would be like with Stevens), she knows she has a good life and must not live with regrets. On a park bench in a seaside town, when Stevens begins crying when recalling how, in spite of Lord Darlington's failures and mistakes, he himself had always done his very best by him, a stranger (a retired servant of a small household) tells him that he certainly shouldn't regret his own choices in life, and tells him to enjoy the life that he has left.

At that point, more than a decade after the war and a few years after Lord Darlington's death, Stevens knows that he is becoming old himself. He's slipping up in his work, though he attributes some of this to the smaller house staff. Yet, rather than retire, he decides to do what will make him happiest. He decides to stay on as Mr. Farraway's butler, and to try to further improve himself (he'd been agonizing over the fact that he couldn't "banter" with his employer, something that he felt might be expected of him). He, like his father, is determined to die while doing his best.

As I said, Stevens is likable, and admirable too, in a way. In Western culture, especially today, it's said that everybody wants to be famous, that everybody wants to feel special. But the reality of it is, people have to find a way to achieve greatness (or what Stevens would call dignity) in their own, often seemingly small, way. Stevens lived in a world that required butlers...that's just the way England was during that time, that's how their world functioned. The decadence of Lord Darlington's lifestyle might seem wasteful, or foolish, but there are aspects of contemporary society that are certainly the same way. Stevens had a function in his world; he did his work well, he served his purpose, and he felt proud of his work. He was doing what he'd wanted to do with his life; his father had been a butler, and he followed in his footsteps. His role was necessary. We can say the same thing for any seemingly mundane profession: working as a teacher (ahem), a garbage collector, a postal service worker, working at a grocery store, what have you. Not the paths to greatness that are glorified in our society, yet all very necessary roles. What more can a person strive for in life than to be satisfied in his or her role, in his or her contributions to society? That's something that I was taught growing up, and something that I firmly believe. And, as an American, I believe that it is my duty to as a citizen to do something productive, as I do have all of these rights and many privileges.

Now, with regards to Stevens, there's the lack of a family life to address. He reflects a couple of times on the idea of two servants running away to marry, at one point recalling the inconvenience of having to replace two staff members at once. If you've seen any of Downton Abbey (only watched some of the first season myself, kind of liked it, but obviously haven't been interested enough in continuing), or any other show featuring an English manor and many servants, you can probably guess that part of the job is not having a family of one's own, for the most part. I mean, it just wouldn't be possible in such an environment, at least not in a big manor where a person might be 'on call' or whatever around the clock. I guess that's just part of the territory, something that Stevens accepted with taking on the role of butler, the head of a large house staff, at Darlington Hall. In today's society, it's generally thought that a person should have a balance of work and play, and eventually a family would come into that. But hey, if Stevens was really satisfied with his life as it was, all things considered, then who is anybody to judge that?

Though I knew about the acclaim that this book had received, I was skeptical about reading a book about an English butler. I was, I must say, pleasantly surprised by how much I connected with the narrator. I have to admit that a part of me would want him to be with Miss Kenton, somehow, but on the other hand, how could I want him to do anything other than what made him happy, what made him feel so proud? Stevens was certainly a man of dignity, and a man of good sense. We could all learn something from Stevens about how to live a satisfying life.

I can't tell if this is some sort of servant's manual, or just some sort of historical piece. Any way, Stevens reflects that in his earlier years, there had been regular publications and societies dedicated to the profession of domestic service, much the same way that there are organizations for the teaching profession, etc. Because it was a legitimate profession in his time, though he was considered something of a throwback by the present time of the novel.

During his travels, Stevens stop to take in the views of the English countryside. I am not at all sure if this picture is from a part of the country that he would have been in, but it is pretty spectacular.