The New English Canaan: The first book banned in the United States

This Book is Banned_The New English Canaan

homas Morton’s The New English Canaan is considered the first book to be banned in the United States (to be accurate, what would become the U.S.). Though Morton arrived in Massachusetts with the Puritans, he wasn’t on board with the strict, insular society they set out to build.

So Morton set up a dissenting colony, and seemingly went out of his way to be a perpetual thorn in the side of Plymouth’s governor, William Bradford, who declared him a “Lord of Misrule.”[1] Based on the Roman festival of Saturnalia, a Lord of Misrule is one who presided over raucous celebrations in England throughout the 16th century.[2]

And, Bradford wasn’t altogether wrong. The accusations he hurled toward Morton, like “inviting the Indean women, for their consorts, dancing and frisking togither,” (yes, that means exactly what you think it means) were apparently true.[3]

Morton’s dissenting colony was a “neo-pagan experiment,” which he dubbed Merrymount.[4] The name is a play on the Latin phrase for sea, the Mother of God, not to mention an emotion never associated with the Puritans… joy.[5] Things came to a head when Morton erected an enormous maypole:

This Book is Banned_Scarlet Alphabet

.
a goodly pine tree of 80. foote longe was reared up, with a peare of [very pagan] buckshorns nayled one fomewhat neare unto the top of it.[6]

Morton’s nickname for Miles Standish, “Captain Shrimp,” is but one example of New English Canaan’s harsh (and amusing) satire.[7] He’s highly critical of Puritan social order in general, and the contemptible treatment the New World was receiving at the hands of these Puritans.

The New English Canaan was written from England where Morton was involved in a lawsuit against the Massachusetts Bay Company. Upon his return to Massachusetts in 1644, Morton was arrested for its publication and exiled to Maine where he died in 1647.

The may-pole incident inspired another piece of great American literature, written by an author known for his commentary on Puritanism. Nathaniel Hawthorne recounts this turn of events in his Twice-Told Tale  “The May-pole of Merry Mount.” Hawthorne sums up the cultural environment that brought about the banning of The New English Canaan as only he can, stating in the opening paragraph that “jollity and gloom were contending for an empire.”[8]

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#banned books         #published 1600s

Endnotes:

[1] Mancall, Peter C. The Trials of Thomas Morton. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2019) Pg 13.
[2] McMahon, Mary. “What Was the Lord of Misrule?” HistoricalIndex.org          https://www.historicalindex.org/what-was-the-lord-of-misrule.htm
[3] Bradford, William. Bradford’s History of “Plimoth Plantation.” (Boston: Wright & Potter Printing Co., 1898), pg 285.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/24950/24950-h/24950-h.htm 
[4] Simon, Ed. “Lord of Misrule: Thomas Morton’s American Submersions.” November 24, 2020. The Public Domain Review. https://publicdomainreview.org/essay/lord-of-misrule-thomas-mortons-american-subversions#p-1-4.
[5] Simon, Ed. “Lord of Misrule: Thomas Morton’s American Submersions.” November 24, 2020. The Public Domain Review. https://publicdomainreview.org/essay/lord-of-misrule-thomas-mortons-american-subversions#p-1-4.
[6] Morton, Thomas. New English Canaan. (Boston: Publications of the Prince Society, 1858 edition). Pg 277.
[7] Morton, Thomas. New English Canaan. (Boston: Publications of the Prince Society, 1858 edition). Pg 285.
[8] Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “The May-pole of Merry Mount.” Twice Told Tales. (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1884), Pg 69.




Slaughterhouse-Five: Jumbled, Jangled… and Burned.

This Book is Banned - Slaughterhouse-Five

This Book is Banned-Scarlet Slaughterhouse-Five revolves around Billy Pilgrim, who like Vonnegut, was a POW in Dresden when it was decimated by Allied firebombing during World War Two.[1] Billy has “come unstuck in time.”[2] And to complicate matters further, he is abducted by aliens, two-foot-tall creatures, who are shaped like toilet plungers, from the planet Tralfamadore.[3]

Why was Slaughterhouse-Five banned? Kurt Vonnegut’s searingly sarcastic, darkly funny, science fiction-infused war story is considered one of the greatest anti-war novels of all time. Needless to say, it includes a good dose of rough language, the kind soldiers have been known to use. Bearing both of these things in mind, it’s no surprise that Vonnegut’s novel has been challenged at least eighteen times, with “obscene language,” and “anti-American” sentiment or “lack of patriotism,” consistently among the objections.[4] But as always, some challenges were more successful than others.

A petition to remove Slaughterhouse-Five (among other books) from the junior high and high school libraries of Island Trees Union Free Public School District, made it to the US Supreme Court. Fortunately, citing the First Amendment, the court found that these books could not be removed from the school district’s libraries.[5]

On the other hand, there’s Drake, North Dakota, a banning that got Vonnegut’s personal attention. In 1973, school officials voted to withdraw Slaughterhouse-Five from the curriculum. Most students, however, didn’t want to give up their copy of the novel. So, lockers were searched, books confiscated, and all 32 copies were ultimately burned in the school’s furnace.[6]

The event made national headlines. And Vonnegut sent a biting letter to the chairman of the Drake School Board, who apparently couldn’t fathom what all the fuss was about. In his typical no-holds-barred style, Vonnegut stated what to many of us is obvious:

If you were to bother to read my books, to behave as educated persons would, you would learn that they are not sexy, and do not argue in favor of wildness of any kind. They beg that people be kinder and more responsible than they often are. It is true that some of the characters speak coarsely. That is because people speak coarsely in real life. Especially soldiers and hardworking men speak coarsely, and even our most sheltered children know that.[7]

Vonnegut concluded his letter by summing up the stand against censorship book burning like only he can:

Perhaps you will learn from this that books are sacred to free men for very good reasons, and that wars have been fought against nations which hate books and burn them… it was a rotten lesson you taught young people in a free society when you denounced and then burned books—books you haven’t even read. You should also resolve to expose your children to all sorts of opinions and information in order that they will be better equipped to make decisions and survive.[8]

To Vonnegut’s point, this book is definitely more than just a stockpile of salty language. But, why is Slaughterhouse-Five important? Like all literature, it’s a snapshot of the culture that produced it. As noted in an earlier post, authors and their works present, analyze, and shed light on the social maladies of their day. When readers look beyond Slaughterhouse Five’s rough language, it’s obvious that this book addresses the devastating aftereffects of war. And the novel’s time-traveling, non-linear structure mimics a debilitating psychological condition, one our soldiers struggle with all too often as a result of their war experience.
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This Book is Banned Slaughterhouse Five John Wayne in The Longest Day trailer

No parts for
Frank Sinatra or John Wayne.

Science-fiction tropes may carry Slaughterhouse-Five’s narrative, but Vonnegut’s novel tells the very real tale of a verifiable historical event. In the book’s opening chapter, however, Vonnegut makes it clear that he wrote about the firebombing of Dresden because of its historical significance, rather than simply because it made for an exciting personal war story.[9]

But, Vonnegut doesn’t write from the romanticized, gung-ho perspective prevalent in post-World War Two culture. As he tells us in the novel’s autobiographical first chapter, after an uncomfortable conversation with his war-buddy’s wife (Mary O’Hare, to whom Slaughterhouse-Five is dedicated), he realized that the book he was about to write would add to the cultural mythology that perpetuates war and glamorizes young men’s participation in them.[10] So, Vonnegut made her a promise, vowing that if he ever finished his book and it was made into a movie, there would be no parts for actors like Frank Sinatra or John Wayne. There would be no roles for “glamorous, war loving, dirty old men,” who “make war look just wonderful, so we’ll have a lot more of them.”[11]

Consequently, Vonnegut’s novel doesn’t praise the British bombers who carried out the raid, justify American involvement, or support World War Two generally for that matter. Instead, he wrote about hungry and sick prisoners of war. He tells us about a good man who survives the bombing but is executed for picking a teapot out of the rubble.[12] And as Vonnegut points out in the novel, “there are almost no characters in this story, and almost no dramatic confrontations.”[13] He wrote it this way because “one of the main effects of war, after all, is that people are discouraged from being characters,” by which he means being seen as human beings.[14]
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Why is Slaughterhouse-Five’s
1969 publication date significant?

As also mentioned in a previous post, the period a book was written in can tell us a lot. And Slaughterhouse-Five’s 1969 publication date, nearly twenty-five years after Vonnegut’s release from a repatriation camp in France, is definitely noteworthy.[15] It’s significant for a couple of reasons. First, because dissent toward the Vietnam war finally freed writers to report on World War Two events that “made war look so ugly.”[16] The time frame is also pertinent because it is during this period that Mental Health professionals began defining the symptoms of PTSD, and advocating for an official diagnosis for this debilitating effect of war.[17] This tidbit of medical history is relevant because Billy Pilgrim, Slaughterhouse-Five’s haunted protagonist, appears to be “a text-book sufferer of PTSD.”[18]

Some significant insight into PTSD is that it’s caused by more than the trauma itself. The “psychosocial atmosphere” of the society soldiers are returning to can, and often does, hinder the process of coping with traumatizing events.[19] And this situation can be observed in Slaughterhouse-Five. When Billy comes home after the war, the environment in America isn’t conducive to working through the trauma he experienced as a soldier.

Shortly after he returns from the war, Billy resumes optometry school. By the middle of his final year, he has himself committed to a veterans’ hospital for non-violent mental patients. And though the doctors agree that Billy was indeed “going crazy” (as Vonnegut describes it), “they didn’t think it had anything to do with the war.”[20] Billy’s doctors were certain his issues could only have stemmed from childhood experiences.

This scene reflects the medical history noted above. PTSD wasn’t even on the medical community’s radar until the the Vietnam war. And it wasn’t recognized as a diagnosable psychological disorder until 1980.[21]

As Vonnegut’s remarks about Hollywood films suggest, prior to the emergence of the social movement that opposed the Vietnam war, American culture considered battle experience to have a positive, maturing effect on young men.[22] Billy’s son, Robert, embodies this notion. He was a sixteen-year-old alcoholic who flunked out of high school. But after a couple tours in Vietnam, “he was all straightened out now.”[23] It’s no coincidence that Robert is a Green Beret in the Marine Corps. A very famous film titled The Green Berets had been released just the year before Slaughterhouse-Five was published.  And it starred the selfsame John Wayne that Mary O’Hare called out as bearing responsibility for glamorizing war.

There’s also the gung-ho, political American mindset that kept information about Dresden quiet for so many years. Vonnegut put this attitude in the mouth of Professor Rumfoord, Billy’s hospital roommate following the airplane crash that killed everyone but Billy. When asked why Dresden would be kept a secret for so many years, Rumfoord answered, “For fear that a lot of bleeding hearts… might not think it was such a wonderful thing to do.”[24]

The culture that emerges from these commonly held perspectives prevented the negative effects of wartime experience and resultant PTSD from being taken seriously.[25] But as Rumfoord was finally forced to acknowledge that Billy had indeed been in Dresden during the Allied firebombing, PTSD was finally recognized as a trauma-related condition.
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This Book is Banned Slaughterhouse Five unstuck in time

Billy Pilgrim, “unstuck in time”,
a text-book case of PTSD.

Vonnegut himself describes Slaughterhouse-Five as being “jumbled and jangled.”[26] And his non-linear structure resembles the most common symptom of PTSD, “re-experiencing… when a person involuntarily and vividly relives the traumatic event.” [27] This can occur through nightmares, repetitive images and sensations, or it can take the form of flashbacks.[28]

One form of re-experiencing is reflected in Vonnegut’s repetition of particular phrases. These phrases function as both a psychological and narrative linking device, repeatedly returning both Billy and the reader to the war. One example is the oft-repeated image of “blue and ivory feet,” which Billy first saw on corpses while being marched to a POW camp.[29] There’s also the frequently referenced “smell of roses and mustard gas,” whose first chronological encounter occurred in the corpse mines of Dresden.[30]

And then, there’s Vonnegut’s protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, who he describes as having “come unstuck in time.”[31] Billy time travels, spontaneously and frequently. And the fact that Billy has no control over what part of his life he’ll find himself in, echoes the flashbacks experienced by many who suffer from PTSD.

Flashbacks occur in cases of PTSD because the process of memory consolidation is short-circuited. Familiar, non-stressful events are automatically assimilated and the information in our brain’s “active memory storage” is rapidly eliminated. But that’s not the case with traumatic events.[32] As amazing as our brains are, they have a limited capacity for processing. And information associated with extraordinary, stressful events can’t be processed rapidly, so it remains in active memory storage and continues to run in the background, if you will. When a traumatic memory is triggered, it inserts itself into active consciousness, like pop-ups on websites if you don’t have an ad-blocker.[33]

Specific triggers, things that remind Billy of the war, prompt his time travel/flashbacks. For example, the siren announcing high noon on the firehouse across the street “scared the hell out of him,” and catapults him back in time: “Billy closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was back in World War Two again.”[34] Another triggering instance occurs when Billy was in the mental ward, and his room-mate is reading a book:

Billy fell asleep under his blanket. When he woke up again, he was tied to the bed in the hospital back in prison. He opened one eye, saw poor old Edgar Derby reading The Red Badge of Courage by candlelight.[35]

Like the repeated phrases mentioned above, Billy’s time travel/flashbacks also function as a linking device, repeatedly returning both Billy and the reader to the war.

This Book is Banned Slaughterhouse Five PTSD

A great big secret somewhere inside.

The barbershop quartet at Billy’s anniversary party also triggers a war-related memory. But this time, his response is very different. Rather than having a flashback/time traveling:

His mouth filled with the taste of lemonade, and his face became grotesque, as though he really were being stretched on the torture engine called the rack. He looked so peculiar that several people commented on it solicitously when the song was done. They thought he might have been having a heart attack… [36]

While coming unstuck in time is the result of a memory that has been partially processed, the barbershop quartet triggers Billy’s response to a memory that had been suppressed. So, even Billy himself didn’t understand why the song evoked such anguish. He finally realizes that the barbershop quartet reminded him of the expressions on the faces of four gobsmacked German guards as they take in the sight of the freshly devastated Dresden.[37] When everyone, guards and prisoners alike, emerged from the meat locker they were sheltering in:

… the sky was black with smoke. The sun was an angry little pinhead. Dresden was like the moon now, nothing but minerals. The stones were hot. Everybody else in the neighborhood was dead.[38]

The bombing of Dresden is the epicenter of Billy’s trauma. As such, it was not just too frightening to relive, but too painful to even remember. So he suppressed the memory altogether, that is until it was triggered by the barbershop quartet.[39]
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What’s with the Tralfamadorians?

Billy’s roommate in the mental hospital, Eliot Rosewater, introduced Billy to the science fiction books of Kilgore Trout. Rosewater had been an infantry captain in the war, and he and Billy were both feeling the “sense of dislocation and absurdity” frequently experienced by survivors of atrocity, a sensibility that destroys their previous assumption of a rational universe.[40]  So, as Vonnegut specifically tells us, Billy and Rosewater use science fiction to “re-invent themselves and their universe.”[41]

One of the books Billy read while he was in the mental hospital was titled Maniacs in the Fourth Dimension. It helped Billy understand why his doctors couldn’t fix what was wrong with him. According to Trout’s book, “mental diseases couldn’t be treated because the causes of the diseases were all in the fourth dimension.”[42] So, Billy’s three-dimensional Earthling doctors weren’t actually incompetent. They couldn’t identify the cause of his problems, because they were unable to see them. Rather like the way the psychosocial atmosphere in America hindered Mental Health professionals from identifying PTSD prior to the Vietnam era.

The Tralfamadorian concept of time offers Billy an explanation for his flashbacks. According to the Tralfamadorians, the notion that moments occur one after another, and are gone forever once they have past, is merely an illusion we have here on Earth. Tralfamadorians can:

…look at all the different moments just the way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains, for instance. They can see how permanent all the moments are, and they can look at any moment that interests them.[43]

This is an apt description what happens in a flashback. All moments are active. As mentioned earlier, the brain hasn’t finished processing traumatic memories and removed them from active memory storage. And when a particular moment is triggered, indicating interest in that moment, the subject (re-)experiences it.

As a result of their understanding of time, when Tralfamadorians see a corpse they merely think the dead person is in a bad state at that precise moment. That same person is in fine shape in plenty of other moments. A passage within Slaughterhouse-Five that overlaps the moment when Billy’s entire company was killed with a moment of camaraderie during boot camp, indicates the psychological benefits of seeing time in this way.

Billy’s fellow soldiers were merely “theoretically dead.”[44]  And these “theoretical corpses” were still able to laugh and eat “a hearty noontime meal.”[45] Recalling the incident some years later, “Billy was struck by what a Tralfamadorian adventure with death that had been, to be dead and to eat at the same time.”[46] In short, understanding time as the Tralfamadorians do provides Billy with the tools to get a handle on his condition. These tools also allow him to cope with the vast amount of death he witnessed in the war, which caused his condition in the first place.
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This Book is Banned Slaughterhouse Five Tralfamadorians

Why are aliens
intertwined with Billy’s PTSD?

Once again, Vonnegut’s use of aliens reflects what was going in American culture when he was writing his novel. At the time Slaughterhouse-Five was published, the Roswell incident had been in American culture for about twenty years. And reports of alien encounters were beginning to crop up. These alien abduction stories indicate that, during this period, science fiction has gone beyond merely being a genre of fiction to become a way of looking at the world.[47]

It’s interesting to note that the first widely publicized account came from someone who, like Billy Pilgrim, was a World War Two veteran. The fact that this abductee said the alien in charge reminded him of “an evil-faced German Nazi” officer is intriguing indeed.[48] This shared characteristic with Billy Pilgrim is especially compelling, given that he also noted a similarity between the “precision of movement” the alien crew exhibited when they moved as a group, and German soldiers.[49]

Studies of alien abduction accounts indicate that, along with other phobias and aversions, subjects commonly experience a confused temporality and gaps in time. These symptoms are frequently related to trauma, which as we have seen, often disrupts memory assimilation. In order for the subject to protect themselves from remembering the event that created their psychic wound, these gaps in time demand to be filled.[50] After the Roswell incident “proved” the existence of extraterrestrials, an alien abduction story is the perfect way to account for this missing time.
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In Conclusion.

Slaughterhouse-Five is clearly more than a jumbled bag of sarcastic anti-American rhetoric, sprinkled with a good dose of rough language. Like all literature, Vonnegut’s novel reflects what was going on in the culture that produced it. Even if, like PTSD prior to the Vietnam era, it doesn’t have a name yet. This book does more than just talk about the devastating after-effects of war, however. It gives engaged readers a very small taste of what it’s like to try and make sense of the world when suffering from this debilitating psychological condition.

The moral of Slaughterhouse-Five is simple, War is Hell. By showing us how damaging trauma is, especially on the scale endured as a result of World War Two, Vonnegut does indeed make the case for why people need to be kinder and more responsible than they often are.

That’s my take on Slaughterhouse Five – what’s yours?
Check out this discussion guide to get you started.

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Endnotes:

[1] Powers, Kevin. “Forward.” Slaughterhouse-Five. (New York: Modern Library, 2019), xi.
[2] Vonnegut, Kurt. Slaughterhouse-Five. (New York: Modern Library, 2019), 25.
[3] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 28.
[4] Morais, Betsy. “The Neverending Campaign to Ban “Slaughterhouse-Five.’” The Atlantic, August 12, 2011; Henriksen, Megan. “Kurt Vonnegut, ‘Slaughterhouse-Five.’” The Banned Books Project @Carnegie Mellon University. September 12, 2019.
[5] Board of Education, Island Trees Union Free School District No. 26 et al., Petitioners, v. Steven A. PICO, by his next friend Frances Pico et al. https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/457/853.
[6] Johnson, Hannah. “40 years later, the resentment still smolders.” The Bismarck Tribune. Nov. 10, 2013; Stevens, William K. “Dakota Town Dumfounded at Criticism of Book Burning by Order of the school Board.” The New York Times, Nov. 16, 1973.
[7] Vonnegut, Kurt. Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage. (New York: Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, 2011), 4-5.
[8] Vonnegut, Palm Sunday, 6.
[9] Laufert, Wayne. “From the Slaughter.” The Humanist.com (Feb. 19, 2019).
[10] Kunze, Peter C. “For the Boys: Masculinity, Gray Comedy, and the Vietnam War in ‘Slaughterhouse-Five.’” Studies in American Humor. New Series 3, No. 26, Special Issue: Kurt Vonnegut and Humor (2012), 45.
[11] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 17, 16.
[12] Laufert, “From the Slaughter.”
[13] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 168.
[14] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 168.
[15] Solly, Mellan. “Kurt Vonnegut’s Unpublished World War II Scrapbook Reveals Origins of ‘Slaughterhouse-Five.’” Smithsonianmag.com (Dec. 14, 2018).
[16] “‘Slaughterhouse-Five’ at 50.” 2003 Interview with Renee Montagne. NPR radio. (June 6, 2019).
[17] Scott, Wilbur J. “PTSD in DSM-III: A Case in the Politics of Diagnosis and Disease.” Social Problems, Vol 37, No. 3 (Aug., 1990).
[18] Kavanagh, Ciaran. “Diagnosing Kurt Vonnegut: A Response to Susanne Vees-Gulani on the Subject of Slaughterhouse-Five.” IJAS (Irish Journal of American Studies.) Online, No. 5 (2016), 14.
[19]  Kleber, Rolf J., Charles R. Figley, and Bertold P. R. Gersons. Beyond Trauma: Cultural and Societal Dynamics. The Plenum Series on Stress and Coping. (New York: Plenum, 1995), 2.
[20] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 103.
[21] Friedman, Matthew J. A Brief History of the PTSD Diagnosis. PTSD: National Center or PTSD.
[22] Bracken, Patrick J. “Post-modernity and post-traumatic stress disorder.” Social science & Medicine. Vol 53 (2001), 734.
[23] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 194.
[24] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 195.
[25] Bracken, Post-modernity and post-traumatic stress disorder, 735.
[26] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 21.
[27] Symptoms: Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/symptoms/
[28] Symptoms: Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
[29] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 68.
[30] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 219; Kavanagh, Ciaran. “Diagnosing Kurt Vonnegut: A Response to Susanne Vees-Gulani on the Subject of Slaughterhouse-Five.” IJAS (Irish Journal of American Studies.) Online, No. 5 (2016), 14.
[31] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 25.
[32] Horowitz, Mardi J. Stress Response Syndromes: PTSD, Grief, Adjustment, and Dissociative Disorders. (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, Inc., 2011), 84.
[33] Horowitz, 84-85.
[34] Kavanaugh, 14; Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 60.
[35] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 108.
[36] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 177.
[37] Kavanaugh, 14-15.
[38] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 182.
[39] Kavanaugh, 14-15.
[40] Lifton, Robert J. “Beyond Atrocity.” Saturday Review. (March 27, 1971), 23.
[41] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 104.
[42] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 107.
[43] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 29.
[44] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 33.
[45] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 33.
[46] Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five, 34.
[47] Luckhurst, Roger. “The Science-Fictionalization of Trauma: Remarks on Narratives of Alien Abduction.” Science Fiction Studies. Vol. 21, No. 1 (March, 1998), 29.
[48] Friedman, Stanton T. and Kathleen Marden. Captured!: The Betty and Barney Hill UFO Experience. (Franklin Lakes, NJ: New Page Books, 2007), 136.
[49] Friedman, 108.
[50] Luckhurst, 37.

Images:

Cover – 1st edition. Vonnegut, Kurt. Slaughterhouse-Five.  (New York: Delacorte Press, 1969). Jacket design by Paul Bacon” is found on the left jacket flap. (For jurisdictions that define copyright term on the date of the author’s death: according to this article, Bacon died in 2015.) – AbeBooks (direct link to jpg)., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80843456

No Parts for John Wayne or Frank Sinatra. “The Longest Day.” trailer screenshot (20th Century Fox), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Billy Pilgrim, a Text-book Case of PTSD. Photo by Ahmad Ossayli on Unsplash https://unsplash.com/photos/laJW5pp-6Yw?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditShareLink

A Great Big Secret Somewhere Inside. Photo by Edge2Edge Media on Unsplash  https://unsplash.com/photos/x21KgBfOd_4?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditShareLink

Why are Aliens Intertwined with Billy’s PTSD? Photo by Stephen Leonardi on Unsplash https://unsplash.com/photos/sMPRCsoUM4A?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditShareLink

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Love Letters to the Library

censoring libraries is harmful

ndrew Carnegie hit the proverbial nail on the head when he said “a library outranks any other one thing that a community can do to help its people.”[1] He also noted:

.
There is not such a cradle of democracy upon the earth as the Free Public Library, this republic of letters, where neither rank, office, nor wealth receives the slightest consideration.[2]

And Carnegie literally put his money where his mouth was. He built 2,509 new libraries around the world between 1883 and 1929 – 1,795 of which were in America. [3]

Though not a Carnegie Library, the first public library in Troy, Michigan opened in 1971. Shortly after its opening, the intrepid children’s librarian, Marguerite Hart, embarked on an endeavor to kindle a love of reading in the city’s youngsters, not to mention enthusiasm for their shiny new library. She initiated a good, old fashioned, letter-writing campaign, and invited dozens of cultural luminaries to share their views on why libraries are not just important, but essential. The children of Troy received 97 letters – from all 50 states and a myriad of different professions, including cultural icons like E.B. White, Neil Armstrong, and Isaac Asimov.

The entire collection has become known as Letters to the Children of Troy, and their contents serve to remind us what’s at stake when state-sponsored censorship comes into play.

For example, proposals in the Missouri legislature, one of which states that librarians would be “punished by a fine” of up to five hundred dollars or “by imprisonment in the county jail” of up to one year for providing “age-inappropriate sexual material”.[4]  But who decides what material is “age-inappropriate”? As any parent will tell you, children’s readiness for any given subject matter is as individual as the kids themselves.

Another proposal requires libraries to create a parental review panel consisting of five residents who are not library employees. They are who would dictate what is “age-inappropriate” material.[5] And this panel would over-ride the “publicly available collection development policy, and well-established processes overseen by local boards for challenging materials” that “virtually every library in the country” already has in place.[6] As if that isn’t problematic enough, failure to establish this state-mandated panel of non-professionals results in forfeiture of state funding.

Then there’s Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill, which has several Florida schools removing books from their libraries.[7] There’s also the Sunshine State’s “Stop Woke Act”, which restricts the discussion of hard historic truths that may make students feel “discomfort, guilt, or anguish” due to U.S. racial history – institutional slavery, for example, or how First Nations peoples were forced onto reservations, or that Japanese-Americans were put into internment camps during World War II.[8] Much to the dismay of their students, this law has teachers removing or covering all the books in their classroom libraries until they have been “vetted” by the proper authorities.[9]

As you read the following letters received by the children of Troy, note the difference between the suppressive and intellectually suffocating environment produced by these restrictions and what a library can be, should be, and is intended to be.

censoring libraries is harmful -E.B.White

A library is many things. It’s a place to go, to get in out of the rain. It’s a place to go if you want to sit and think. But particularly it is a place where books live, and where you can get in touch with other people, and other thoughts, through books. If you want to find out about something, the information is in the reference books – the dictionaries, the encyclopedias, the atlases. If you like to be told a story, the library is the place to go. Books hold most of the secrets of the world, most of the thoughts that men and women have had. And when you are reading a book, you and the author are alone together – just the two of you. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your questions answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people — people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.[10]

~E.B.White~

censoring libraries is harmful -James Yaffe

Since the beginning of civilization, men have felt the need to reach out beyond themselves, to make the attempt to know other worlds besides their own and other people besides their own kind of people. But along with this need, men have found themselves trapped by their own limitations. Life is short, and even the strongest of us is weak; we cannot live in more than one world, we cannot break through the barrier of our own individuality. We are doomed to be ourselves, when we yearn to be everybody.

Man invented books to help him out of this dilemma. Through books we can realize, in part, our wild ambitions. Through books we can catapult our imaginations into those worlds that our bodies can never reach. When we read history we demolish the prison of time and become one with the men of the past. When we read books about science or politics or current affairs, we become one with those millions of our own contemporaries whom we will never see. Above all, when we read poems or plays or stories, we are drawn into the inner lives, the feelings and thoughts, of other souls we could never have imagined for ourselves.

A library, then, is the most important institution a civilization can create, the most important building a town can build. It helps us become more than ourselves, and this is the only way of being truly human.[11]

            ~James Yaffe – writer-in-residence at The Colorado College~

censoring libraries is harmful -Neil Armstrong pg1
censoring libraries is harmful -Neil Armstrong pg2

Congratulations on the opening of the City of Troy’s first public library, a facility that will serve and benefit you and your community. I urge each of you to visit it often and explore the books that line its shelves by reading them; for reading is a unique form of exploration that will enrich your lives. It is a special way to discovery and knowledge.

Each book holds an experience and an adventure. Your guide is the author. Through books you will meet poets and novelists whose creations will fire your imagination. You will meet the great thinkers who will share with you their philosophies, their concepts of the world, of humanity and of creation. You will learn about events that have shaped our history, of deeds both noble and ignoble. All of this knowledge is yours for the taking. It is something you will have always and that will grow in sharing.

Knowledge is fundamental to all human achievement and progress. It is both the key and the quest that advances mankind. The search for knowledge is what brought men to the moon; but it took knowledge already acquired to make it possible to get there.

How we use the knowledge we gain determines our progress on earth, in space or on the moon. Your library is a storehouse for mind and spirit. Use it well.[12]

~ Neil Armstrong ~

 

censoring libraries is harmful -Luis A Ferré pg1.jpg
censoring libraries is harmful -Luis A Ferré pg2

It is with great pride and sincere sense of dedication to the youth and future of our country that I take the pleasure of congratulating the City of Troy for its leap forward in providing and institution dedicated to the search for knowledge and understanding.

The youth of Troy in this generation, and in the generation to come, should avail themselves of these new facilities, so as to help them broaden their understanding about the past and present history of mankind. This is very important for, in books we will find recorded all that the human race has produced.

The youth of our nation should read about the civilizations and institutions that man has produced. Among them, they will find the horrors of war, the horrors of destruction, and the beauty of men and women who dedicated their lives for the search for peace and decency, and the construction of institutions dedicated to peace and humanitarianism. They will also find men and women who forged magnificent discoveries and inventions in the sciences, and those who dedicated their lives in order to help the less fortunate of our brothers in the planet earth.

Most important, they will find in books the beauty of the spiritual nature of man. Religion, poetry, art, culture, and the institutions which govern man. In these institutions let not our  youth forget that the history of our country, with all the mistakes that have been committed, has been a history of progressive search for the model freedom and dignity of mankind. We all enjoy these freedoms, and it will be up to the generations who use our libraries to learn this lesson well, and to protect and add to the culmination of the great ideals of our Declaration of Rights and our American Constitution.[13]

                                                      ~Luis A. Ferré, Governor of Puerto Rico 

censoring libraries is harmful -Pierre Trudeau

“The Child is father of the Man.”

In this paradox William Wordsworth perceives that the quality of youth today determines the excellence of man tomorrow.

In your minds, the seeds of truth, tolerance and wisdom abound. Reading will help them grow and flourish.

To the young readers of the City of Troy’s new public library, I send my best wishes.[14]

~Pierre Elliott Trudeau – Prime Minister of Canada~

.

And finally, a letter from Isaac Asimov:

censoring libraries is harmful- Asimov

Congratulations on the new library, because it isn’t just a library. It is a space ship that will take you to the farthest reaches of the Universe, a time machine that will take you to the far past and the far future, a teacher that knows more than any human being, a friend that will amuse you and console you – – – and most of all, a gateway, to a better and happier and more useful life.[15]

What could be considered an addendum to Asimov ‘s letter is the following sentiment from his autobiography:

Now, when I read constantly about the way in which library funds are being cut and cut, I can only think that the door is closing, and American society has found one more way to destroy itself.[16]

Restrictive legislation like Missouri’s proposed Protection of Minors rule, and Florida’s so-called Don’t Say Gay bill and Stop the Woke act undermine what libraries are all about.

Our children’s ability to gain insight into the “millions of our own contemporaries” James Yaffe speaks of is crippled. Our children’s imaginations are hindered for lack of access to the “poets and novelists” Neil Armstrong acknowledges, those “whose creations will fire” it.

Our children will be denied books that can help them work through dilemmas they may be grappling with, when they feel “bewildered or undecided” as they come of age. Depending on the nature of their questions, they could be deprived of essential information from “reference books – the dictionaries, the encyclopedias, the atlases” E. B. White mentions.

Shielding our children from hard historical truths dispels them of the understanding that, as  Governor Ferré points out, despite its missteps, our country’s history has been a “progressive search for the model freedom and dignity of mankind,” one full of “men and women who dedicated their lives for the search for peace and decency”.

In short, when state-sponsored censorship – or any form of suppression for that matter – comes into play, the “seeds of truth, tolerance and wisdom” Pierre Trudeau alludes to cannot grow, and libraries are no longer the cradles of democracy they once were.

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#on censorship         #library     #activism      #literacy

Endnotes:

[1] Gregorian, Varlan. “Remembering Andrew Carnegie’s Legacy.” American Libraries. September 30, 2019. https://americanlibrariesmagazine.org/2019/09/30/remembering-andrew-carnegies-legacy/

[2] U.S. House of Representatives Committee on the Judiciary Subcommittee on Courts, Intellectual Property and the Internet Hearing on First Sale Under Title 17. Testimony of Greg Cram – Associate Director, Copyright and Information Policy The New York Public Library. June 2, 2014.
Pg 6.

[3] A History of Public Libraries: Carnegie Libraries. Digital Public Library of America. https://dp.la/

[4] Missouri House Bill No. 2044. https://house.mo.gov/billtracking/bills201/hlrbillspdf/4634H.01I.pdf

[5] Missouri Proposed Rule: Library Certification Requirement for the Protection of Minors https://www.sos.mo.gov/CMSImages/AdRules/main/images/15_CSR_30_200_015.pdf

[6] Albanese, Andrew. “Missouri Proposes New ‘Protection of Minors’ Rule for Libraries”.  Publisher’s Weekly. Oct. 20, 2022. https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/libraries/article/90680-missouri-proposes-new-protection-of-minors-rule-for-libraries.html

[7] Legum, Judd. “’Don’t Say Gay’: Florida schools purge library books with LGBTQ characters.” Popular Information. January 5, 2023. https://popular.info/p/dont-say-gay-florida-schools-purge

[8] Florida Bill 2022148. https://www.flsenate.gov/Session/Bill/2022/148/BillText/Filed/HTML

[9] Negussie, Tesfaye and Rahma Ahmed. “Florida schools directed to cover or remove classroom books that are not vetted.” abcNEWS. https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/florida-schools-directed-cover-remove-classroom-books-vetted/story?id=96884323

[10] E.B. White. Letters to the Children of Troy. biblioboard open access. https://library.biblioboard.com/viewer/c7f90d47-3349-45aa-91ee-4c2d24dfb300

[11] James Yaffe. Letters to the Children of Troy. biblioboard open access.
https://library.biblioboard.com/viewer/d10a5ad7-569c-425a-9601-01ab0aaa053a

[12] Neil Armstrong. Letters to the Children of Troy. biblioboard open access. https://library.biblioboard.com/viewer/6a446f6f-4be3-40a6-9301-140ace92e2a3 (pg 1). https://library.biblioboard.com/viewer/6db75bf1-2f1a-4b9f-9e62-58c84412472c (pg 2)

[13] Luis A. Ferré, Governor of Puerto Rico. Letters to the Children of Troy. biblioboard open access. https://library.biblioboard.com/content/db4707d9-0e40-4d3d-bcc1-6fb07712bc63  (pg 1). https://library.biblioboard.com/content/9bc64821-cf73-4fa8-b03a-2ffad2cfd572 (pg 2)

[14] Pierre Trudeau. “Letters to the Children of Troy.” biblioboard open access.https://library.biblioboard.com/content/84c17dca-0336-453e-8688-3a95cbb6cc02

[15] Isaac Asimov. “Letters to the Children of Troy”. biblioboard open access. https://library.biblioboard.com/content/f5cdd443-8f09-421e-adcd-b9c50998263b

[16] I. Asimov: A Memoir. Bantam Books: New York, 1994. pg 29.

[17] Photo by sabina sturzu on unsplash.com.




Roald Dahl’s publisher back pedals.

Roald Dahl about-face.

After public outcry, the publisher of Roald Dahl’s books does an about-face on proposed changes to language in his much-loved children’s books.

Follow this link to read more about it.

Keep speaking out against censorship
wherever you find it!

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Banned Comic Books panel discussion – Washington University in St. Louis

Banned Comic Books panel discussion - Washington University in St. Louis

Who’s afraid of comic books? Book bans across Missouri and the U.S. often target graphic novels and comic books, especially those that depict issues of race, gender, and sexuality. New Missouri laws will punish school librarians and educators who provide restricted materials to students not only with fines but jail time. This event takes a look at banned comic books from the perspectives of the artists who create them as well as the advocates who defend them. Panel lineup includes:

  • Jerry CraftNew York Times bestselling author and illustrator of the graphic novels Class Act and  New Kid. New Kid is the only book to ever win the John Newbery Medal for the most outstanding contribution to children’s literature (2020), the Kirkus Prize for Young Readers’ Literature (2019), as well as the Coretta Scott King Author Award for the most outstanding work by an African American writer (2020).
  • Molly Carney, ACLU MO. Carney joined the ACLU of Missouri in 2020 as a Staff Attorney. As a member of the legal team, she engages in all aspects of strategic litigation efforts to protect civil rights and liberties. This includes her current work on litigation and advocacy against book bans across Missouri.
  • Phoebe Gloeckner, graphic novelist. Gloeckner’s book The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2002) has been praised as “one of the most brutally honest, tender, shocking, beautiful portrayals of growing up female in America.”

The discussion is moderated by Rebecca Wanzo, professor and chair of the Department of Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies, Washington University. Wanzo is the author of The Content of Our Caricature: African American Comic Art and Political Belonging, which was a winner of the 2021 Eisner Award for Best Academic/Scholarly Work, and the 2021 Charles Hatfield Book Prize from the Comics Studies Society.

This event was organized by Left Bank Books, St. Louis Public Library, and the Center for the Humanities and Department of Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies at Washington University in St. Louis.

Arrangements for the appearance of Jerry Craft made through HarperCollins Speakers Bureau, NY, NY.

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This Book is Banned – featured in Washington Magazine

this book is banned washington magazine

this book is banned washington magazine

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Reclaiming Claims: What English Students Want from English Profs

Why study literature?

.

“So you like therapy, eh?”

I was in the Jellema Room, an intimidating chamber of dusty philosophical tracts, stale coffee, slow e-mail, and a coterie of would-be philosophers. As a philosophy major, I had earned the right to enter; as an English major, my presence had been challenged.

“What do you mean, therapy?”

“Isn’t that all you do in English classes?” my friend quipped. The coterie laughed. “You come to class and the teacher says, ‘OK, kiddies, what did you think of that? Did you liiiike that? How did it make you feeeel?’ ” He was on a roll.

I’m sure, in his self-amusement, my friend considered himself rather witty and original; in reality, his view of English fit neatly into a tradition of suspicion that fills the various halls and chambers of the academy as if gassed through the ventilation system: “Everyone knows,” as Andrew Delbanco (1999: 32), an English professor himself, writes, “that if you want to locate the laughingstock on your local campus these days, your best bet is to stop by the English department.” “After all,” my friend wound up his spiel, “that’s why so many people take English. It’s easy. It isn’t real.”

But the sentiment, it would seem, is not confined to the academy. Unless your parents happen to be English professors, telling them that you’ve settled on an English major can be a rather unsettling affair—ranging anywhere from nerve-racking to family-splitting. (One friend I know who decided on a Great Books program at a major university had such a falling out with his father that they haven’t spoken in two years.) Nor has it been easy since graduation to justify the decision I have made. Seeing old faces or being introduced to new ones, now with a degree in hand, I am continually asked the same question: “And what do you do now?”

At first, I began by answering with the truth: that I’m working a few part-time jobs, waiting on grad school, and trying to write. The reactions, I began to notice, could be classified Aristotelian style into two species: horror and romance. The first is by far the more common: Feigning a smile, the entrepreneuring-investment-banking-Lexus-driving-twenty-eight-year-old- lawyer thanks what deities she believes in that English never enticed her, says “Ohhh” rather awkwardly, and excuses herself to use the restroom. The other, the romantic, thinks I’m living in a cardboard box among the poor and outcast, writing words that will outlive our mortal, feeble flesh, changing lives in a future none of us will see. These, apparently, are the only two responses available for non–English majors attempting to understand what exactly I’m doing with my life.

Recently, I went through the same ordeal in meeting the family of a new friend. The father—a banker, of course—was lounging in a plush recliner behind his copy of Forbes magazine as the Asian Market Watch rambled on above a rush of stock quotes skimming across the screen. “And writing,” I said. He looked up. “Fake stuff or real?” I blinked, my mouth opened slightly in the universal expression of incomprehension. “I mean, are you writing fiction or non?” Now, I’m not so careful a judge of character as, say, Sherlock Holmes, Columbo, or the lady from Murder She Wrote, but I’m pretty sure that my questioner was not joking. Fiction, apparently, was fake.

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

Inside and outside the academy, the English professor and the English pupil run into a common problem: the rest of the world thinks what we do and what we study is fake. English ranges anywhere from “entertainment” to “therapy,” but it seldom enters the realm of the real—the “real,” I suppose, meaning a productive contribution to society yielding tangible, green results.

Thus the “So what?” of English rattles in the back of our minds like an empty can attached to an exhaust pipe. Why read fiction? Why spend one’s life teaching it? As another acquaintance once asked me, “What’s the point?” Some teachers deal with the question by ignoring it. A few might answer in strictly utilitarian terms: it pays the bills. Most, however, probably believe that literature has something important to impart—and it’s that importance, that something, that keeps them in the business. As Italo Calvino (1993: 1) writes, “My confidence in the future of literature consists in the knowledge that there are things that only literature can give us, by means particular to it.” What are those things?

Back in the late fourth century, a lusty intellectual pondering his state of affairs to the point of great distress happened to hear a child chanting, “Pick up and read. Pick up and read.” Augustine, figuring it a divine command (as he was wont to do), picked up a Bible, read Romans 13, and found the experience somewhat refreshing (“it was as if a light of relief from all anxiety flooded into my heart” [VIII.29]). Next thing you know, he converted to Christianity, became a bishop, and was posthumously proclaimed a Doctor of the Church. The point is not to suggest that reading the Bible (or any other piece of literature) will necessarily make converts of us all. Rather, I mean to suggest that conversion, whether to Christ or to Camus, is held forth in every text as a distinct possibility—that is, that literature can act as the undiscovered fifth element, the alchemist’s stone offering those who touch it the possibility of leaving changed.

Moreover, I would argue, it is the possibility that literature can change us that draws most students in to hear it speak.[1] Many students—those not disillusioned by bad teachers—come to literature with a kind of brimming anticipation, waiting for what will appear. Another Augustine, one a bit more contemporary, illustrates such anticipation beautifully. Augustine (Gus) Orviston, the narrator of The River Why, is an angler so obsessed with fishing that he’s hardly read a book in the first twenty years of his life. When a tutor, Titus, finally convinces him to start reading, this is what occurs:

Scholar though he was, Titus was no academician: accuracy and intricacy of knowledge were to him not just secondary but twentysecondary to the love one felt for the things one studied, so whenever I was unable to love a book, even if I wanted to struggle with it, Titus whisked it away and proffered another. And when I challenged him on this he explained that philo meant “love” and Sophia meant “wisdom,” that every book he gave me was full of wisdom, but that in order for my reading of them to be truly philo-sophic I must not just read but love them. It seemed to work: at least I soon found myself eyeing the covers of unknown books with the same sense of expectancy I felt when scrutinizing the waters of a new stream. (Duncan 2002: 200–201)

Some might object at first to Titus’s whisking books away, offering sound arguments for the good of struggle despite a lack of pleasure. Of course, the objectors would be right: abandoning the struggle is no way to progress properly. But I read in this passage something far more fundamental occurring. Titus is teaching Gus to read, and the first part of reading is loving literature, and the greatest part of loving literature is approaching it with expectancy. It is that expectancy most English majors possess—an expectancy that something of substance will rise from the pages, and in catching it, the students themselves will be caught.

Still, say others, Gus is reading philosophy, not literature. Granted that the distinction between the two is often about as clear as the difference between Scottish and Irish accents to the ears of a Chinese farmer, the objectors are basically right: Gus reads nonfiction. Two responses should be made. First, Gus’s allusions to works of literature throughout The River Why (together with the fact that it’s a story he chooses to write) reveal a reading list filled with at least as much literature as philosophy.[2] Gus’s “philosophizing” is broader than the borders of the academic discipline called philosophy. But second, the manner of reading Gus is learning in this passage has nothing specific to do with philosophy. To put it in a way that sounds almost stupid in this context, Gus is discovering precisely what lovers of literature have always known: that literature is important.

Pick yourself up off the floor. Let us continue.

This Book is Banned_ Reclaiming Claims-.why read fiction

It is not just that literature is important; it is that the importance of literature is precisely what students of English take English to experience—a subtler point seemingly lost on many academics. Students do not take literature to learn only what constitutes a metaphor or a simile; they take literature because metaphors and similes say something. In other words, the answer to the question “What do students of literature want a literature class to teach?” is the same answer that ought to have put professors in the business to begin with: that it matters for their lives.

I remember my first day of English 311. I was a sophomore bent on a philosophy degree, fulfilling my literature requirement by taking a professor I had heard was a decent guy. When the clock struck 9:00, a tall, middle-aged man with a gray beard strode into class, his dark green sweater swinging down above his black pants and brown shoes. It was the day affectionately known as “Syllabus Day,” the do-nothing day, the day when the most important event of each class was figuring out whom you knew and where to sit. Our professor did not care where we sat. He plopped down his heavy Norton anthology on the front podium and turned around.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. We gazed up at him, a bit shocked. Some students had just rolled out of bed, and their greasy hair still stood on end. “Why are you in college?” he asked. “What are you in this English class for?” The questions came at us like bullets fired from a twelve-gauge shotgun. These were not the questions of Syllabus Day that we had come to know and love; we were not prepared to defend our purposes in life.

But the professor did not wait for any answers (good move). Instead, he began to run through a long list of statistics and quotations pointing to a culture sinking into mindlessness, into an inability to reflect and to question, into an incapacity to even consider the existence of a good life and a bad life, let alone know the difference between the two. He concluded: “The world is in need of people who can think. Let what you read this semester be the beginning of your thoughts, and above all things, let the stories you run across run across you. Saul Bellow once said, ‘The worst thing you can omit from your studies is yourself.’ These stories are all, in some way, yours.”

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why study English

I realize teaching is not necessarily about giving students what they want—that might amount to little more than free pizza. Still, a student’s desires are not entirely insignificant, particularly those desires students didn’t know they had. Good teachers have a way of eliciting those deep passions that students are either too embarrassed or too busy or too distracted to realize they possess. One of those deep passions is a desire for substance, for some weight other than a letter grade to hang on what we do, for some importance attached to our hours of study beyond a possible degree, career, house, family, and life of flat success. Sure, the numbers tell us that college is financially a good investment; but most eighteen-year-olds I’ve met are not interested in financial investments. They’re far more interested in understanding the world in which they live and determining for themselves whether it’s worth an investment of their lives.

Students, in other words, are ardent creatures—a claim that may surprise many professors who have noted only the drooping eyelids, the late papers, and the characteristic smirk or shrug of the shoulders that “proves” another case of apathy. Often, however, apathy is merely latent ardency, a desire for substance possessed without knowledge of the possession, a caring that relies on others to draw it out. The more professors treat students as if they do care—and as if they should—the more they will discover students who actually do. Latent ardency depends on the overt ardency of others to sneak out of its shell and take a look around.

Examine, for example, the case of Dorothea Brooke in George Eliot’s Middlemarch.

The intensity of her religious disposition . . . was but one aspect of a nature altogether ardent, theoretic, and intellectually consequent: and with such a nature, struggling in the bands of a narrow teaching, hemmed in by a social life which seemed nothing but a labyrinth of petty courses, a walled-in maze of small paths that led now whither, the outcome was sure to strike others as at once exaggeration and inconsistency. The thing which seemed to her best, she wanted to justify by the completest knowledge; and not to live in a pretended admission of rules which were never acted on. Into this soul-hunger as yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own ignorance, and give her the freedom of voluntary submission to a guide who would take her along the grandest path. (2000: 24–25)

Her desire for Mr. Casaubon, an old and ugly but intellectually eminent man, can be described as a desire for substance. Explaining the possibility of marriage to her sister, she says, “I should know what to do, when I got older: I should see how it was possible to lead a grand life here—now—in England” (25). The point is not that Dorothea is exceptional in her desires, but that she is quite normal. Many students find themselves full of “soul-hunger,” of a “youthful passion,” of an ardent desire to be told that the stories they are in the process of living somehow matter to the wider world in which they’re lived. Literature, with its array of stories, has the possibility of showing these students both how their lives matter and how to make them matter—a point I will illustrate soon.

But first, Dorothea has a sister, Celia, who cannot be ignored. Whereas Dorothea is full of passion to escape the constrained ignorance of her social norms, Celia is all too prepared to accept them. Her life is fulfilled not by large projects of social justice, but by marriage to the right person and a perfect-looking child. She does not have the “soul-hunger” that characterizes her sister and leads to her sister’s struggles. Though many students identify with Dorothea (and many would, if they could be shown that the source of their restlessness is a desire for substance), many others identify with Celia.

A classroom, therefore, is filled with both Dorotheas and Celias. The problem is that they cannot be sorted out. Many teachers, it would seem, notice the way a certain student dresses, or slouches, or writes, or whatever else, and assume they have the student pinned. If the professor then teaches literature as though the student does not care, the result will be a student who fulfills the professor’s expectations: she will not care a whit. What students of English want from their professors is the opening assumption that everyone is Dorothea, that everyone might care if they were shown a reason to—and the literature they are about to read might actually be the means to open them precisely to that possibility.

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

In Middlemarch we are given the opposite scenario. Mr. Casaubon, after marrying Dorothea, treats her as if she were Celia. As a result, Dorothea withers. Her life whittles away, lightened and expanded only when—occasionally—she finds reprieve from the clutches of her husband. Of Mr. Casaubon, Eliot writes: “There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy” (188). Her casual remark concerning the old man echoes down to teachers as a proclamation and a prediction. Unfortunately, many seem to have substituted knowledge for passion, filling themselves with facts they fire off above the heads of students, who in turn stare blankly through the windows in the room.

When my professor in English 311 finished firing directly at us in his opening day salvo, I looked over to find tears in the eyes of a friend. Corny, I know; almost unreal. Yet there it is. It happened. This guy—middle-aged, gray-bearded, dressed as only professors dress—strolls into class and tells us all to think, tells us literature can begin our thoughts, tells us, in essence, that our lives are implicated in the lives we read about, and that both, ultimately matter. It’s all my friend had needed to hear.

Which is not to conclude that that is all a teacher has to say. And here, the subject grows a bit trickier. For if we grant a (latent) desire in students to hear that the literature in which they are engrossed matters for the lives they live, we still have not established what a teacher is supposed to teach. How does a teacher mediate between a text and the (ardent) student who reads it?

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

Perhaps we should begin with what it seems is being taught. The answer, it seems to me, is some form of New Criticism—the text as a detached, lifeless body, lending itself to all sorts of interesting autopsies but never quite raising a finger to resist the scalpel at its chest. The reasons for New Criticism’s dominance in pedagogy (despite its decline in theory) are beyond the scope of this essay (and largely beyond the scope of my knowledge). Perhaps it amounts to little more than a lack of alternatives. Many schools of criticism and theory have arisen, but most have been too ideologically narrow to be adopted as a general pedagogical method (e.g., Marxism, feminism, and the like). Deconstruction, on the other hand, makes more universal claims concerning language but ends ultimately in a hopeless play of signifiers that yields little substance for a professor attempting to teach. Suffice it to say, as David Richter (1998: 708) writes, that “even today the critical practice of many American teachers of literature owes a great deal to Cleanth Brooks and William Empson.”

Thus we come to the crux of the problem. Texts, as taught, have lost the life that led students into English classes to begin with. How, then, without resorting to gushy, therapeutic questions of “feeeeling,” do teachers reattach a text and its significance to the lives of those who read it? How can literature matter enough to transform its students?

First and foremost, claiming that literature matters assumes that literature makes claims. It would appear, from my amateur observations, that philosophy is still considered a legitimate discipline because it’s in the business of sorting out truth-claims—universal statements made to change the way someone approaches any number of a range of subjects. Literature, on the other hand, has lost its claim to claims. As Robert Scholes writes in The Rise and Fall of Literature, “We are in trouble precisely because we have allowed ourselves to be persuaded that we cannot make truth claims but must go on ‘professing’ just the same” (qtd. in Delbanco 1999: 35). That need not be the case. Texts make claims whether professors explicate them or not, and it is the manner in which texts make them that reveals a bridge whereby the life of the text and the life of the reader may touch.

Yet the claims of literature differ vastly in form from the claims of philosophy. Where philosophy attempts to be explicit and clear (especially in the Anglo-Analytic arena), literature approaches through the indirect. Emily Dickinson (1963: 792) advised,

Tell all the truth,
but tell it slant.
Success in circuit lies.

It would seem that novelists listened. As Walker Percy (1991b: 304) notes, “Novelists are . . . disinclined to say anything straight out . . . since their stock-in-trade is indirection, if not guile, coming at things and people from the side so to speak, especially the blind side, the better to get at them.” That indirection comes through the construction of a world where claims dominate as natural laws. In other words, instead of using symbolic logic to elucidate truth-claims in the world, fiction uses symbols to intimate truth-claims within a worldview. The claim of each work is the guiding perception, the whole work as a whole claim, unparaphraseable, universal, and philosophically applicable to the world in which the reader lives. In essence, each text says to the reader, “This is the way things are,” and (occasionally), “This is the way things ought to be.”

Perhaps an illustration may help. Understanding the claim of a text involves entering the textual world where that claim dominates by natural law. In John Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, for example, the natural law seems to be tragedy beyond the reach of hope as each character flickers out of existence like a candle caught by the wind. The world is a place where redemption does not exist. Darkness descends immediately as the house- lights dim and continues until the final curtain falls and the stage lights are blacked out. Good and bad alike are indiscriminately destroyed. As Antonio lies dying he utters these words, reflective of the play:

In all our Quest of Greatnes . . .
(Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is their care)
We follow after bubbles, blowne in th’ayre.
Pleasure of life, what is ’t? onely the good houres
Of an Ague: meerely a preparative to rest,

To endure vexation. (1927: 120)

The quote is not meant to state the “claim” of The Duchess of Malfi, for the claim of The Duchess of Malfi is simply The Duchess of Malfi itself—its world as a presentation of the world. Yet Antonio’s words seem to let us in on the guiding natural law: The Duchess of Malfi presents a reality dominated by reckless cruelty—one in which individual lives are doomed to fade away and disappear. Thus the dying Bosolo reflects on the imminent death of the Cardinal lying beside him:

I do glory
That thou, which stood’st like a huge Piramid
Begun upon a large, and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing. (123)

As the Cardinal goes, so shall all others: ambition and nobility alike erased. The piled bodies in the final scene represent the inescapable law’s natural progression—a progression that leaves nothing to do but “make noble use / Of this great ruine” (124). Yet on the basis of this play alone, even that “noble use” seems doomed to fail. Tragic failure, inescapable and hopeless, descending on the good and bad alike, making useless human ambition and human nobility—this is the worldview of The Duchess of Malfi. To fully grasp that worldview, along with its concomitant views of human nature, one has to engage the entire drama, with all of its characters and all of its results. All paraphrases will in some way cheat the worldview they attempt to describe.

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

The important point in all this, however, is that the worldview of The Duchess of Malfi is the basis for a claim that extends beyond the borders of the drama, for the play’s claim is nothing less than an extension of its worldview into the world of its reader.[3] The Duchess of Malfi, like all literature, is proclaiming that its reality is reality. The bleak end is a prediction for the world of the spectator as much as an occurrence on the stage. The world of the text and the world of the reader overlap, and only in that overlapping does literature gain its significance, its possibility of effecting any change, its chance to speak to the one who reads. The Duchess of Malfi says, in effect, “These are the laws that govern our lives,” and in the end, it raises the crucial question for the student who engages with it: “Are these really the laws that govern my life?”

What this reattachment of textual worlds and textual claims requires of professors is a method distinguishable from New Criticism more in its ends than in its means. That is, instead of teaching The Duchess of Malfi as something strictly autonomous—examining its structures, wordplay, and the like in a system closed off from both the author and the reader—professors would teach The Duchess of Malfi as a world dominated by claims: that is, explorations of the text act as explorations of claims to which the reader must respond. To ask, “Can characters really change within this story?” is also to ask, “Can human beings really change?” To ask whether grace is available within the story is to ask whether grace is available to us. Each story, as a claim, declares that the reality of its characters is the reality of its readers.[4]

If texts are treated as realities meant to interpret the reality of their readers, then literary tools become absolutely indispensable. Students must know what a metaphor is, what a simile is, what rules govern various genres, and the like. A strictly therapeutic classroom—asking students only how they felt while reading or whether they liked what they read—does less to connect students to the text than teaching the intricate constructions that undergird it. Therapy-based English classes answer students knocking at the door not by opening it, but by asking them how they liked knocking: how did it make them feel? The more a student understands language and how it works, the more a student will be able to enter the literature that is read. The difference, however, is that what defined the telos for New Critics is changed into a means that serves another end. In other words, the typical disillusionment of students in literature classes could be countered by showing them that the “dry, boring, scholarly” activity of the English discipline is intimately linked to literature’s transformative powers. Understanding the claims made by a text (including the debate concerning what those claims actually are) relies upon the use of textual tools.

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

Consider, for example, “Nausicaa,” the thirteenth chapter of James Joyce’s Ulysses. One can read the chapter without any knowledge of genre. But understanding genre transforms the chapter and the claims that the chapter makes. Throughout, Joyce employs the language of a cheap romance novel to undercut such romance and reveal its inherent violence. He writes, for example, “She would fain have cried to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips laid on her white brow, the cry of a young girl’s love, a little strangled cry, wrung from her, that cry that has rung through the ages” (1986: 300). The irony, of course, is that Leopold Bloom is voyeuristically gazing at a woman on the beach, so that the love they eventually make is nothing but masturbation, self-pleasure at the expense of another.[5] When the woman rises, Bloom notes with horror, “She’s lame! O! . . . Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show” (301). The limp bespeaks a violence, and the scene dashes notions of love established in romance novels through use of the very same genre. Understanding the literary genre is absolutely crucial to understanding the claim being made. A teacher connects the dots—connects the genre to the undercutting of the genre and finally to the claims made concerning love, violence, and voyeurism. Students are free to disagree with the final analysis, but such a final analysis will seldom even be reached without a teacher to guide. Those who lack the insight that a teacher can offer will see in this text little more than a pornographic scene.[6]

In the same way, new insights are discovered and new meanings encountered with the accumulated knowledge of each literary device. Such knowledge expands perception, so that the same text that once ran across a student’s mind like a river over rocks begins to seep in like rain into the soil. Some students bring their own ardency—their own “soul-hunger”—to the literature they read, some discover a dormant ardency awakened by their professor, but almost all students require the guidance and the knowledge a teacher offers to fill the hunger that they bring, to not only delight in literature but also to find in it the possibility of utter transformation—the possibility, each time, of conversion.

Such substantive reading leads to substantive reflection. In the same English 311 class where we were told to think as if for the first time, we read early twentieth-century American literature. Early twentieth-century American literature is nearly enough to cause a suicide or two. Prozac ought to be distributed as freely as hard candy to students subjected for a semester to the full brunt of naturalism. And yet, even naturalism, in all its doom—I always envision a foot slowly descending heel to toe on a helpless individual—could not annihilate a certain student’s sense that lives might matter, her life in particular. At one point, discussing the William Dean Howells story “Editha,” this classmate asked our professor a cutting question: “Why,” she asked, “did these naturalists bother to write? Writing itself seems to me a sign of hope. Editha, even if she is crushed, matters to me now where she never would have had no one bothered to write. Maybe because of Editha, I won’t end up an Editha myself.” Did the naturalists, though dooming, still hope despite it all? Regardless of how much or how little they thought human lives might matter, their fiction evoked a sense of worth decades after the authors were deceased. And this much I can affirm: that question would never have come if our teacher, from the start, had not thought the literature we were reading was making claims upon our lives.

This Book is Banned_Reclaiming Claims-Why read fiction?

To conclude, let me digress. Each year at the University of Chicago, incoming freshmen experience a sixty-minute oration titled “The Aims of Education”—an experience most of them probably consider an ordeal rather than an opportunity. In 2002, Andrew Abbott, a professor of sociology, spoke. After successfully annihilating any claim to the instrumental uses of education, he defined education as “the ability to make more and more complex, more and more profound and extensive, the meanings that we attach to events and phenomena” (2002: 7). As such, education is “the emergence of the habit of looking for new meanings, of seeking out new connections, of investing experience with complexity or extension that makes it richer and longer, even though it remains anchored in some local bit of both social space and social time” (7). In other words (and in the realm of English), education means the ability to read the same passage as one once did uneducated and find in it more implications for one’s life; it means the ability to bring more of one’s life to bear on more of one’s text, though reading the actual words takes no longer than it ever did; it means expanding experience, broadening it so that literature has the space to settle in; it means not only wanting to be transformed each time one reads, but being able to open oneself to such conversion. And the teacher that teaches this—not to dissect a text, but instead to cut its readers open—will teach students what they most wanted to learn: how literature matters for their lives.

In the end, students enter English classes because they believe that English matters, that it has something to say, and that, ultimately, their lives are implicated in and affected by what is said. This ardency (however latent) cannot be squelched by teachers who never attach texts and their claims to students and their lives. No author ever wrote who had nothing to say, and no text, however distant from its author’s intention, is silent. Students seek professors of English to be taught how to listen, how to hear with open ears the literature that they read. What brings many students to English classes is a substance greater than the weight of any grade and too important to be treated as a set of pedantic rules or an ungoverned territory of free and meaningless play; it is a substance that inspires the words of texts—that is, that breathes life into them—so that texts sit up and point their fingers at the lives of the students who read them, demanding a response. That is the substance that students seek; good teachers reveal how it is found.

Essayist bio:

Abram C. Van Engen is associate professor of English at Washington University in St. Louis, where he is also associate professor (by courtesy) at the John C. Danforth Center on Religion and Politics.  Professor Van Engen has published widely on religion and literature, focusing especially on seventeenth-century Puritans and the way they have been remembered and remade in American culture. Books include: City on a Hill: A History of American Exceptionalism,Sympathetic Puritans: Calvinist Fellow Feeling in Early New England,A History of American Puritan Literature, as well as Feeling Godly: Religious Affections and Christian Contact in Early North America.

https://www.abramvanengen.com 

Photo credit: Joe Angeles/WUSTL Photos

Please note: This essay first appeared in
Pedagogy: Critical Approaches to Teaching Literature,
Language, Composition, and Culture

(Volume 5, Issue 1, Winter 2005).

Pair with This Book is Banned’s section on The Art of Reading.

#literary criticism    #the art of reading     #liberal arts   #benefits of Humanities      #critical thinking

Page Capper copy

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Endnotes:

[1] Sir Philip Sidney laid out three goods of literature: it teaches, delights, and moves. In this essay, I do not mean to deny the power of delight in attracting readers to texts and students to English classes. After all, as Walker Percy (1991a: 246) says, “When all is said and done, a novel is only a story, and, unlike pathology, a story is supposed first, last, and always to give pleasure to the reader.” At the same time, I believe it is the possibility of changing readers (a mixture of both teaching and moving) that draws most students—wherein I understand students to be a group of people roughly between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, unsure what exactly life has in store for them or they for it, and so existing in a state of (relative) openness, sorting out plausible reasons to move in one direction or another.

[2] So, for example, describing two boys wrestling with him only two pages later, he writes, they “disdained deodorant, and delighted in mashing my face into their armpits for the sheer Walt Whitmanesque celebration of it, and . . . roared extempore Songs of Their Selfs afterward, gloating over how much older and taller I was” (2002: 203).

[3] One is free to disagree with my interpretation of The Duchess of Malfi and its worldview, but in so doing, the debate will have been begun as to the claims of The Duchess of Malfi. I do not mean to imply that one will be right and the other will be wrong, as if texts had only one claim to make and once it was discovered the text itself could be shucked. A text exhibits many claims cast by its overarching worldview—a worldview that itself is open to debate. What I am attempting to maintain, however, is the attachment between debates concerning the text itself and the claims that the text makes upon its readers.

[4] Notice, please, that I am not suggesting that professors answer such questions on behalf of their students, or use literature as a set of didactic tracts to teach students how to live the life a certain professor considers best. Questions must be raised within the bounds of the text; let students answer such questions on their own grounds.

[5] “And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of Oh! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!” (1986: 300).

[6] I once heard of an Irish fellow who first bought and read Ulysses because he spotted it in a store that sold pornographic books. A good teacher could explain that Ulysses criticizes precisely the fiction it was placed with on the shelf.

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Works Cited:

Abbot, Andrew. 2002. “The Aims of Education Address.” University of Chicago Record, 21 November, 4–8.

Augustine. 1991. Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick. New York: Oxford University Press.

Calvino, Italo. 1993. Six Memos for the Next Millennium. New York: Vintage International.

Delbanco, Andrew. 1999. “The Decline and Fall of Literature.” New York Review of Books 46: 32–38.

Dickinson, Emily. 1963. The Poems of Emily Dickinson, ed. Thomas Johnson. Vol. 2. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University.

Duncan, David James. 2002. The River Why. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books.

Eliot, George. 2000. Middlemarch. New York: Modern Library.

Joyce, James. 1986. Ulysses. New York: Vintage Books.

Percy, Walker. 1991a. “Accepting the National Book Award for The Moviegoer.” In Signposts in a Strange Land, ed. Patrick Samway, 245–46. New York: Picador.

———. 1991b. “Why Are You Catholic?” In Signposts in a Strange Land, ed. Patrick Samway, 304–15. New York: Picador.

Richter, David. 1998. The Critical Tradition: Classic Texts and Contemporary Trends. 2nd ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s.

Webster, John. 1927. The Complete Works of John Webster, ed. F. L. Lucas. Vol. 2. London: Chatto and Windus.

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Images:

1) Title image: Photo by Dollar Gill on Unsplash (lightly retouched)
2) Library Stacks: Photo by Ali Bergen on Unsplash
3) Fanned Book: Photo by Mishaal Zahed on Unsplash
4) Students: Photo by Alexis Brown on Unsplash
5)Middlemarch cover: George Eliot, Public domain via Project Gutenberg- https://www.gutenberg.org/files/145/145-h/145-h.htm
6) Stacked books: Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
7) The Duchess of Malfi – Title page: John Webster, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
8) Ulysses 1st edition cover: James Joyce, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
9) In conclusion/Scattered Books: Photo by Gülfer ERGİN on Unsplash




The Scarlet Letter: A – for Adultery, Antinomian, or America Itself?

The Scarlet Letter banned

nlike a lot of other books, there’s no short answer as to why The Scarlet Letter was banned. Whenever Hawthorne’s work has been challenged, the objections have come from all directions. That’s because Nathaniel Hawthorne had a complicated relationship with his subject matter. Needless to say, Hawthorne is inextricably linked with Puritanism. He wrote The Scarlet Letter, after all.

When we read a book, it’s important to consider the author and their historical context.  And, when we read Hawthorne, it’s important to understand that his relationship with Puritanism falls squarely in the love/hate category. That’s especially apparent in The Scarlet Letter.

The Scarlet Letter banned

It’s no secret that Hawthorne was haunted by his Puritan lineage. He was so bothered, he added the letter W to his name to separate himself from his Puritan forefathers.[1] It’s easy to see why. His great, great, great grandfather, Major William Hathorne, was infamous as a “bitter persecutor” of Quakers, having them “scourged out of town.”[2] Hathorne is mostly remembered for ordering “Anne Coleman and four of her friends” to be whipped, while tied to a cart and forced to walk the 60 miles from Salem to Boston.[3]  And William’s son, John, “made himself conspicuous” as a “witch judge” and chief interrogator during the Salem Witch Trials.[4]

Hawthorne talks about the ancestral guilt he carries as a result of their actions in The Custom House, the opening chapter of The Scarlet Letter. He ends the passage by praying that any family curse caused by their actions “may be now and henceforth removed.”[5] These feelings are undoubtedly the source of what Herman Melville described as the “mystical blackness” that pervades Hawthorne’s work.[6]

On the other hand, Hawthorne still wasn’t inclined to embrace the religious shift that had occurred in New England during the nineteenth century, toward individual experience and an optimistic faith in the perfectibility of human beings.[7] His Puritan ancestry gave Hawthorne a sense of rootedness, “a home-feeling with the past.”[8] And he may not have been a “churchly man,” but his heritage gave him an appreciation for the culture and moral foundation that emerged from Puritan doctrine.[9] His very nature, it’s been said, was imbued with “the temperamental earnestness of the Puritan.”[10]

It’s no surprise, then, that multiple and often paradoxical perspectives are common in Hawthorne’s works. In fact, Hawthorne’s technique has been referred to as “the device of multiple choice.”[11] Hawthorne himself described The Scarlet Letter as “turning different sides” of the same idea “to the reader’s eye.”[12] So, it should be even less surprising that The Scarlet Letter has been banned and challenged for contradictory reasons as well.

The Scarlet Letter banned

For example, one literary critic reviewing The Scarlet Letter the year it was published thought Hawthorne’s depiction of Puritanism was too severe.  He didn’t say Hawthorne was wrong. He just wondered why, “of all features of the period,” Hawthorne chose practices that “reflect most discredit” on the Puritans.[13]

Another early critic, however, thought Hester’s punishment wasn’t painful and obvious enough. Merely being condemned to wear the scarlet letter didn’t make Hester contrite. It didn’t make her repent. And Hawthorne didn’t “excite the horror of his readers” enough to keep them from following in Hester and Dimmesdale’s footsteps.[14]

So, it isn’t just the passage of time that causes contemporary readers to see oppressive patriarchy (like the Seattle teacher who tweeted he’d “rather die” than teach The Scarlet Letter), when some nineteenth-century critics found what we would call feminism.[15] It isn’t caused by cultural shift. And it’s more than Hester’s “light punishment” that lead to objections about how the book advocates women’s rights. Reverend Arthur Cleveland Coxe specifically expressed concern that Hawthorne’s book encouraged a message way too close to views expressed at the first National Woman’s Rights Convention, held in Worcester, Massachusetts the same year The Scarlet Letter was published.[16]

Granted, we’re more on the lookout for feminist themes these days. But, they were clearly in the text all along. And, they’re right beside passages that seem to say Hester should accept her fate, and fall in line with patriarchal Puritan society.

It is true, however, that the most consistent objection to The Scarlet Letter has been the topic of adultery. The notion that adultery is quite simply not a “fit subject for popular literature” didn’t begin with the 1961 challenge in Michigan, or the Arizona challenge in 1967.[17] That mindset has been around since 1850. And there’ll probably always be someone who takes offense at Hawthorne’s use of adultery as a vehicle for examining his multiple perspectives and paradoxical themes. Unfortunately, this mindset squashes any real understanding of what The Scarlet Letter has to say. And this superficial (mis)reading begins with the title.

After all, if the focus of Hawthorne’s book was the scandalous behavior of an adulterous woman, he would’ve titled it Hester Prynne, or A Fallen Woman.[18] That would have been more consistent with the novels of adultery that were popular in nineteenth-century literature, like Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, or Madame Bovary by Flaubert.[19] While these novels revolve around the theme of “love against the world,” Hawthorne calling his work The Scarlet Letter tells the reader that the letter’s function as symbol is actually the central subject of the book.[20]

This reading is reinforced by the fact that Hester and Dimmesdale’s adulterous act isn’t depicted (even in nineteenth-century terms), and the word adultery never appears in the text. Yes, requiring that a capital A be stitched to your clothes a historically accurate penalty for adultery in Puritan Massachusetts. But, the law is precise about its size and placement. Hester embellishing the letter with gold threat would not have been tolerated.  And other aspects of the punishment Hawthorne depicts don’t line up with the statute’s requirements.[21] Hawthorne is clearly using the scarlet letter as a symbol, a word that does appear in his book some twenty-four times, specifically in reference to the A on Hester’s bosom.[22]  The question at the heart of Hawthorne’s work, then, is “What does the scarlet A actually mean?”
___

The Scarlet Letter banned

The Custom House.

 The opening chapter of the book provides a cryptic key, so to speak, to unlocking Hawthorne’s symbolism, enabling readers to see that The Scarlet Letter is about more than a misbehaving minister. By locating the red cloth letter that inspired his work in Salem’s Custom House, wrapped in a package from before the Revolutionary War, Hawthorne establishes a connection between seventeenth-century Puritan New England and nineteenth-century American culture.

In this context, the A becomes a cultural artifact, one that simultaneously expresses Hawthorne’s culture as well as the one that produced it.[23] Hawthorne reaches back through the A to America’s myth of national origins and does what we continue to do, return to the Puritans to reclaim a sense of purpose, while also demonstrating progress. The A embodies the shift from Puritanism to the Revolution, as well as America’s continued development from that time forward.[24]

The American Revolution prompted social changes just as significant as the political changes it brought about. The spirit that triggered the Revolution, with its declaration of inalienable rights, self-evident truths, and the equal creation of all, undoubtedly played a role in the decline of Puritanism and its foundational Calvinist doctrine, a theology that emphasizes the depravity of humankind.[25]  Hawthorne considers this transition from the religious perspective, a psychological outlook, as well as a historical viewpoint, all of which are reflected in the book.
___

The Scarlet Letter banned

Dimmesdale looks back,
and Hester is forward looking.

Founders of new ethics are invariably deemed sinful/heretical, because they challenge the authority of an existing/old ethic, a collective whose aim is to maintain equilibrium. And that’s the case in The Scarlet Letter. Hester Prynne, who is forced to literally wear a label identifying her as sinful, represents a new ethic. And Arthur Dimmesdale is a concrete expression of the American Puritanism that Hester challenges. Not only is Dimmesdale a Puritan minister, he embodies the psychological consequences associated with trying to adhere to such an authoritarian ethic. [26]

Guilt stemming from sinful acts is frequently identified as a major theme in The Scarlet Letter, but it’s more complicated than that. Two basic psychological mechanisms are at work within an authoritarian ethic like Puritanism (with its harshly implemented moral Laws and publicly enforced taboos), suppression, and repression. Suppression is the process of consciously pushing tendencies that don’t align with the ethical system out of our awareness. And the best-known forms of this technique are discipline and asceticism.[27]

Hawthorne is known as a master of psychological insight, and he tells us it’s “essential” to Dimmesdale “to feel the pressure of a faith about him.”[28] And we see Dimmesdale use both discipline and asceticism to keep himself in check. He exhibits discipline when he tells Pearl that he won’t appear publicly with her and Hester in the town square the next day:

“Nay; not so, my little Pearl,” answered the minister; for, with the new energy of the moment, all the dread of public exposure, that had so long been the anguish of his life, had returned upon him; and he was already trembling at the conjunction in which—with a strange joy, nevertheless—he now found himself.[29]

As much as Dimmesdale might wish he could claim his place alongside Hester and Pearl, he doesn’t dare fly in the face of Puritanism’s moral Law. And suppressing that impulse becomes a pleasant experience in itself. It’s also revealed that Dimmesdale’s conflicted soul not only leads him to whip himself with a “bloody scourge,” but fast to the point of collapse as “act[s] of penance.”[30]

While suppression operates on the conscious level, repression functions on the unconscious level. Inclinations that are at odds with the dominant ethic are rejected from the conscious mind. These tendencies may become unconscious, but according to depth psychology, they “lead an active underground life of their own.”[31] Needless to say, nothing good can come from this situation.

What does happen is that two psychic systems develop within the personality, one an outgrowth of suppression, and the other a byproduct of repression. Suppression leads to a “façade personality,” a mask that signals we’re conforming to the dominant ethic of the age, and hides our true nature.[32]  Though it’s easy to interpret Dimmesdale’s actions as mere hypocrisy, this is what occurs when he hides his guilt. [33]  The scene at the scaffold when Hester is first released from prison, demonstrates a façade personality at work:

“Hester Prynne,” said he, leaning over the balcony and looking down steadfastly into her eyes, “thou hearest what this good man says, and seest the accountability under which I labor. If thou feelest it to be for thy soul’s peace, and that thy earthly punishment will thereby be made more effectual to salvation, I charge thee to speak out the name of thy fellow-sinner and fellow-sufferer! Be not silent from any mistaken pity and tenderness for him.[34]

Dimmesdale makes his true feelings known. But he does so through a mask that signals to everyone but Hester that he’s conforming to the strict Puritan ethic.

The Scarlet Letter banned

The other psychic system that develops is a shadow figure, which is a byproduct of repression. Taboo impulses are rejected so emphatically they become psychologically severed as “not me,” and as mentioned above, take on a life of their own. Chillingworth embodies this shadow figure.[35]  As such, he’s fully aware of what Dimmesdale is repressing. And his mission is to keep the torture of living under such an authoritarian ethic “always at red heat,” which literally drains the life out of Dimmesdale like the blood-sucking leech Hawthorne describes Chillingworth as.[36]

While Dimmesdale is an expression of American Puritanism, Hester looks toward a new ethic, and the social shifts that result from it. Like we said earlier, founders of new ethics are consistently deemed heretical. And Hawthorne associates Hester Prynne with Anne Hutchinson, who was expelled from Massachusetts Bay Colony during the seventeenth century. Hutchinson was banished for her role in the “Antinomian controversy,” a theological conflict that was essentially between power and freedom of conscience.[37]

The Scarlet Letter banned

By associating Hester with Hutchinson, Hawthorne indicates that Hester’s real crime is indeed heresy rather than simply breaching Puritanism’s rigid moral code (though she did that as well). A passage stating that Hester “assumed a freedom of speculation” our Puritan forefathers would have considered “a deadlier crime than that stigmatized by the scarlet letter” confirms this interpretation.[38] In associating Hester with Hutchinson, Hawthorne also characterizes her heresy as being antinomian in nature.[39]

At its root, antinomianism means “against or opposed to the law.”[40] In a Christian context, antinomianism embraces the existence of an “inner light” within every individual, which presumes a spirituality based on inner experience with the Holy Spirit rather than conformity to religious laws.[41] Hester’s antinomian tendencies are evident in her declaration to Dimmesdale, where she’s clearly judging the validity of their relationship through her conscience and inner spiritual experience rather than the Puritan power structure and religious Law:

What we did had a consecration of its own. We felt it so! We said so to each other! Hast though forgotten it?[42]

Antinomianism’s “inner light” has been described as an “ancestor” to the philosophy of self-reliance held by nineteenth-century antinomians like Ralph Waldo Emerson and his circle of Transcendentalists. [43] Critics of unthinking conformity (religious or otherwise), the Transcendentalists urged each person to find, as Emerson put it, “an original relation to the universe.”[44] It’s a complex word, Transcendentalism, especially for such a simple idea – that men and women (in equal measure) have knowledge about the world around them that goes beyond what they can see, touch, hear, taste, or feel (transcends it, in other words). And, that people can trust their own intuition to know what is right.[45]  Antinomianism’s “inner light” has clearly been influenced by the post-Revolutionary spirit mentioned earlier (with its secular notion of self-evident truths, declaration of inalienable rights, and the equal creation of all), resulting in these Transcendentalist principles.

The Scarlet Letter banned

Hawthorne became acquainted with the Transcendentalist circle during the years he and his family spent in free-thinking and reform-minded Concord, which brings us to Margaret Fuller and her influence on The Scarlet Letter.[46]  Fuller is best known for her feminist work Woman in the Nineteenth Century, and she inspired Hawthorne’s “dark heroines,” the first of which was Hester Prynne.[47] In the chapter titled Another View of Hester, Hawthorne follows Fuller’s description of three stages in the advancement of women toward self-realization and social equality. The first stage is legal and institutional. Second is revised concepts about gender. And the third phase is female character itself, to primarily live in and for her own development.[48] According to Hester:

As a first step, the whole system of society is to be torn down, and built up anew. Then, the very nature of the opposite sex, or its long hereditary habit, which has become like nature, is to be essentially modified, before woman can be allowed to assume what seems a fair and suitable position. Finally, all other difficulties being obviated, woman cannot take advantage of these preliminary reforms, until she herself shall have undergone a still mightier change; in which, perhaps, the ethereal essence, wherein she has her truest lie, will be found to have evaporated.[49]

Those who knew Margaret Fuller best, described her as “The Friend:”

This was her vocation. She bore at her girdle a golden key to unlock all caskets of confidence. Into whatever home she entered she brought a benediction of truth, justice, tolerance, and honor.[50]

Consistent with her forward-looking role, by the end of The Scarlet Letter, this characterization also applies to Hester Prynne, marking the acceptance of the nineteenth century’s reform-minded ethic of individual experience and self-reliance.

[Women] came to Hester’s cottage, demanding why they were so wretched, and what the remedy! Hester comforted and counselled them, as best she might. She assured them, too, of her firm belief, that, at some brighter period, when the world should have grown ripe for it, in Heaven’s own time, a new truth would be revealed, in order to establish the whole relation between man and woman on a surer ground of mutual happiness.[51]
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The Scarlet Letter banned

Pearl: Transition Personified.

Symbolically speaking, children typically represent the future. Though Pearl is often associated with evil, it is the process of transition that she personifies. She embodies the chaotic liminal stage between one stable mode of being and another, when we are no longer in one mode, but not yet in another. We are “betwixt and between,” in this an old ethic and a new one. [52] Hester’s concerns about her daughter reflect the anxiety often experienced by those on the cusp of a new ethic, dreading the worst possible consequences while holding onto glimpses of the best possible outcome.[53]

[Hester] remembered—betwixt a smile and a shudder—the talk of the neighboring towns-people; who, seeking vainly elsewhere for the child’s paternity, and observing some of her odd attributes, had given out that poor little Pearl was a demon offspring; such as, ever since old Catholic times, had occasionally been seen on earth, through the agency of their mother’s sin, and to promote some foul and wicked purpose. Luther, according to the scandal of his monkish enemies, was a brat of that hellish breed.[54]

The new ethic alluded to by mentioning Luther is, of course, nothing less than the establishment of Protestantism itself. Pearl, however, specifically represents the transition between seventeenth-century Puritanism, and the new, nineteenth-century ethic. She is, after all, the daughter of Arthur Dimmesdale and Hester Prynne:

Her nature appeared to possess depth, too, as well as variety; but—or else Hester’s fears deceived her—it lacked reference and adaptation to the world into which she was born. The child could not be made amenable to rules. In giving her existence, a great law had been broken; and the result was a being whose elements were perhaps beautiful and brilliant, but all in disorder[55]

As Hawthorne shows us, Pearl possesses Dimmesdale’s depth of character, but also has Hester’s antinomian nature. As a child, however, she’s developing and evolving, like the young country of America itself.
___

The Scarlet Letter banned

The love plot parallels the shift in American culture.

The arc of Hawthorne’s love story reflects the shift in American culture that occurred between the conflicting ethics that Dimmesdale and Hester embody. The tale begins in Boston, the very colony established by John Winthrop, and the Puritan forefathers credited with founding America, those we still envision in black cloaks and steeple-crowned hats.  And Hawthorne explicitly states that at this point in America’s history, Boston is a theocracy, a form of government where religion and law are “thoroughly interfused.”[56]

We’re introduced to Hester as she is released from prison, and crosses the threshold of its heavy oaken door, a significant symbol indicating change. Hawthorne makes it clear that her thinking (and therefore the ethic she embodies) conflicts with the strict, authoritarian Puritan doctrine. After all, Hester is being released from prison, where (not coincidently) she gave birth to baby Pearl (and all that she embodies). In this scene, we also learn that Dimmesdale is an integral part of the theocratic machinery. And Hawthorne drops enough hints that we know he’s the father of Hester’s baby.

Hawthorne spends the next segment of the narrative examining the differing ethics at work, and their psychological repercussions. The love story peaks with the scene in the forest between Hester and Dimmesdale, when she proposes that they put the past seven years behind them, leave Boston, and start a new life somewhere else:

Begin all anew! Hast thou exhausted possibility in the failure of this one trial? Not so! The future is yet full of trial and success. There is happiness to be enjoyed! There is good to be done![57]

Hester’s plan involves more than a future with Dimmesdale. Symbolically, her proposal amounts to a re-founding of America on the basis of nineteenth-century principles – development of the self, individual experience and self-reliance, as well as the new morality and corresponding social forms they give rise to.[58]

If real progress is to take place, however, Pearl must come to terms with Dimmesdale, which she finally does:

Pearl kissed [Dimmesdale’s] lips. A spell was broken. The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant bore a part, had developed all her sympathies; and as her tears fell upon her father’s cheek, they were the pledge that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor forever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Towards her mother, too, Pearl’s errand as a messenger of anguish was all fulfilled.[59]

With Pearl’s kiss, seventeenth-century Puritanism and the nineteenth-century’s antinomian ethic of self-reliance are symbolically married, if you will.[60] And with that, Dimmesdale passes away, just like the era defined by Puritanism ultimately did. Signifying Puritanism’s continued influence on America, Chillingworth bequeaths “a great deal of property, both here and in England” (the birthplace of Puritanism) to Pearl.[61] And it’s no coincidence that the top two figures of the Puritan hierarchy were executors of the estate.

In Hester’s return to Boston after many years away, she is doing what Americans continue to do (especially given that she crosses the threshold back into her old cottage wearing the scarlet letter on her bosom). She’s reaching back through the A to America’s myth of national origins, and returning to the Puritans to reclaim a sense of purpose, while also demonstrating progress.

The Scarlet Letter banned

Finally, the tombstone Hester ultimately shares with Dimmesdale is engraved with an escutcheon, the shield that forms the foundation for coats of arms. And Hawthorne tells us that the motto etched into it serves as a “brief description of our now concluded legend:” [62]

On a field, sable, the letter A. gules [63]

Sable and gules are terms used in heraldry for the colors black and red. As coats of arms are intended to do, this phrase crystalizes the cultural history of its owner.[64] The sable/black stands for the Puritanism America is grounded in, the doctrine that produced what Hawthorne describes as “black-browed” followers, and future generations continue to associate with black cloaks and steeple-crowned hats.[65] And the A once again functions as a cultural artifact, only this time not as a token of shame, but as a crest representing progress toward the nineteenth-century ethic of individual experience and self-reliance.
___

In Conclusion.

So, what does Hawthorne’s A actually stand for? Is it the adultery so many parents have found objectionable in their challenges? Or is the feminist message, with its implied antinomianism that nineteenth-century critics took issue with? Or does the A stand for America itself?

Like all well-constructed symbols, there’s a lot packed into Hawthorne’s scarlet A. So, consistent with his multiple-choice style, the answer is a paradoxical yes. Hawthorne’s A is for – Adultery, Antinomianism, and America itself.

That’s my take on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letterwhat’s yours?
Check out this discussion guide to get you started.

Page Capper copy

Endnotes:

[1] James, Henry. “Hawthorne.” In English Men of Letters. Edited by John Morley. (London: Macmillan and Co., 1879), 6.
[2] Brooks, Rebecca Beatrice. “The Life of Nathaniel Hawthorne.” History of Massachusetts Blog. Sept 15, 2011; “The Paternal Ancestors of Nathaniel Hawthorne: Introduction.” Hawthorne In Salem. hawthorneinsalem.org; Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. (New York: Penguin Books, 2016), 11.
[3] Moore, Margaret. The Salem World of Nathaniel Hawthorne. (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2001), 31; In 1662 “Robert Pike Halts a Quaker Persecution in Massachusetts.” New England Historical Society. https://www.newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/1662-robert-pike-halts-quaker-persecution-massachusetts/
[4] Hawthorne-The Scarlet Letter, 11; “The Paternal Ancestors of Nathaniel Hawthorne: Introduction.”
[5] Hawthorne-The Scarlet Letter, 11.
[6] Melville, Herman. “Hawthorne and his Mosses.” Herman Melville. Edited by Harrison Hayford. (New York: The Library of America, 1984), 1159.
[7] Howells, W. D. “The Personality of Hawthorne.” The North American Review. Vol. 177, No. 565. (Dec. 1903), 882.
[8] Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. (New York: Penguin Books, 2016), 10.
[9] Milder, Robert. “‘The Scarlet Letter’ and Its Discontents.” Nathaniel Hawthorne Review. Vol. 22, No. 1 (Spring 1996), 21.
[10] Wendell, Barrett. A Literary History of America. (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1900), 433.
[11] Matthieson, F. O. American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1941), 276.
[12] Fields, James T. Yesterdays with Authors. (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1893), 51
[13] Coxe, Arthur Cleveland. “The Writings of Hawthorne.” The Church Review. January, 1851. Vol. 3, No. 4., 506.
[14] Sova, Dawn B. Banned Books: Literature Suppressed on Social Grounds. (New York: Facts On File, Inc., 2006), 254; Brownson, Orestes. “The Scarlet Letter.” Brownson Quarterly Review. October, 1850.
[15] Gurdon, Meghan Cox. “Even Homer Gets Mobbed; A Massachusetts school has banned ‘The Odyssey.’” Wall Street Journal (Online). Dec. 27, 2020;
[16] Coxe, 510.
[17] Brownson, Orestes. “The Scarlet Letter.” Brownson Quarterly Review. October, 1850; Sova, 254.
[18] Milder, Robert. “Nathaniel Hawthorne.” The Cambridge Companion to American Novelists. Edited by Timothy Parrish. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 14.
[19] Perotta, Tom. “Foreward.” The Scarlet Letter. (New York: Penguin Books, 2016), ix.
[20] Bercovitch, Sacvan. “The A-Politics of Ambiguity in ‘The Scarlet Letter.’” New Literary History. Vol. 19, No. 3. (Spring, 1988), 631, 632; Milder- “Nathaniel Hawthorne,” 14.
[21] “Scarlet Letter.” Massachusetts Law Updates. Nov. 30, 2013.
[22] Carrez, Stephanie. “Symbol and Interpretation in Hawthorne’s ‘Scarlet Letter’.” Hawthorne In Salem. http://www.hawthorneinsalem.org/page/12218/
[23] Bercovitch- “The A-Politics of Ambiguity in ‘The Scarlet Letter,’” 630.
[24] Bercovitch- “The A-Politics of Ambiguity in ‘The Scarlet Letter,’” 630; Bercovitch – “The Scarlet Letter: A Twice-Told Tale,” 4; Bercovitch- “Hawthorne’s A-Morality of Compromise.” Representations. No. 24, Special Issue: America Reconstructed, 1840-1940 (Autumn, 1988), 12.
[25] Noll, Mark. A History of Christianity in The United States and Canada. (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1992), 148.
[26] Sarracino, Carmine. “‘The Scarlet Letter’ and a New Ethic.” College Literature. Vol. 10, No. 1 (Winter, 1983).
[27] Neumann, Erich. Depth Psychology and a New Ethic. Translated by Eugene Rolfe. (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1973), 33.
[28] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 114.
[29] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 141.
[30] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 134.
[31] Neumann, 35.
[32] Neumann, 41.
[33] Sarracino, 52.
[34] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 63.
[35] Sarracino, 52.
[36] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 239.
[37] Hall, David D. ed. The Antinomian Controversy, 1636-1638: A Documentary History. (Durham: Duke University Press, 1990).
[38] Hawathorne- The Scarlet Letter, 152.
[39] Khomina, Anna. “The Banishment of Anne Hutchinson.” The Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. (Nov. 17, 2016).
[40] Hall, 3.
[41] Pokol, Agnes. “The Sociological Dimensions of The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne as a Social Critic on Democracy and the Woman question.”
[42] Hawthorne-The Scarlet Letter, 181.
[43] Pokol.
[44] Pokol; Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Nature.” Ralph Waldo Emerson: A Critical Edition of the Major Works. Edited by Richard Poirier. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 2.
[45] “Transcendentalism, An American Philosophy.” U.S. History: Pre-Columbian to the New Millennium. www.ushistory.org.
[46] Milder, “Introduction.” The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. (New York: Penguin Books, 2016), xiii.
[47] Milder- “‘The Scarlet Letter’ and Its Discontents,” 11.
[48] Milder- “Introduction,” xxiv; Milder- “‘The Scarlet Letter’ and Its Discontents,” 12.
[49] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 153.
[50] Fuller, Margaret; Channing, W. H.; Emerson, Ralph Waldo; Clarke, James Freeman. The Autobiography of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. Vol. 1&2. (Madison & Adams Press, Kindle Edition), 326.
[51] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 245.[52] Turner, Victor. “Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites of Passage.” Betwixt & Between: Patterns of Masculine and Feminine Initiation. Edited by Lois Carus Mahdi, Steven Foster, Meredith Little. (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1987), 7.
[53] Sarracino, 57.
[54] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 92.
[55] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 84.
[56] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 47.
[57] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 184.
[58] Milder- “Nathaniel Hawthorne,” 14-15.
[59] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 238.
[60] Sarracino, 58.
[61] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 243.
[62] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 246.
[63] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 246.
[64] International Heraldry & Heralds.
[65] Hawthorne- The Scarlet Letter, 11, 217.

Images:

Cover. Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895).

Nathaniel Hawthorne portrait.  Nathaniel Hawthorne. , ca. 1860. [to 1865] Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/2017892968/.

Anne Hutchinson Statue. Curbed Boston. https://boston.curbed.com/maps/boston-statues-of-women

Margaret Fuller portrait. Josiah Johnson Hawes, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/39/Margaret_Fuller.tif

Illustrated images are taken from: Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. (Boston: James R. Osgood and Company, 1878).

FYI:

This Book is Banned participates in the Amazon.com affiliate program, where we earn a small commission by linking to books (but the price remains the same to you).  This allows us to remain free, and ad free. [Our privacy policy]




The Catcher in the Rye: A Twentieth-century Jeremiad

Catcher in the Rye banned

hat’s up with the brouhaha that perpetually revolves around this book? Why was The Catcher in the Rye banned? In short, Salinger’s work challenged the status quo. And it did so in an era defined by conformity. So, the outcome is pretty predictable. As a New York Times columnist once put it, The Catcher in the Rye has been “yanked out of American schools more than almost any other title.”[1] And the challenges come fast and furious.

The earliest attempt to remove The Catcher in the Rye from high school reading materials occurred in 1954, and took place in Marin County, California. Shortly after that, a similar effort was made to restrict students’ reading of the book in Los Angeles County. The following year, it was censored in Baltimore, Boston, Buffalo, and Port Huron as well. In 1956, a group known as The National Organization for Decent Literature labeled The Catcher in the Rye  objectionable.[2] At this point, Catcher had also been banned in Fairmont, McMechen, St. Louis, and Wheeling, West Virginia. Efforts to ban Salinger’s work continued to expand.[3]
.

And the hits just keep on coming.

Between 1961 and 1965, there were eighteen separate attempts to ban The Catcher in the Rye from high school campuses, creating enough controversy to draw the attention of national newspapers.[4] But challenges haven’t been limited to the decades immediately following the novel’s publication – the hits just keep on coming! According to the office of Intellectual Freedom, the novel is “a perennial No. 1 on the censorship hit list,” and has remained on the American Library Association’s annual Banned Book report well into the 21st century.[5]
_________

What’s the rub, anyway?

Why is The Catcher in the Rye so controversial? Attacks on Catcher revolve around a number of concerns. Grievances usually have to do with language challengers consider offensive – one parent cited 785 “profanities.”[6] Objections frequently involve blasphemy. Or a general “family values” kind of complaint, like the undermining of parental authority. To top things off, Holden Caulfield’s criticism of “home life, [the] teaching profession, religion, and so forth” was summed up as an assault on patriotism, with Catcher labeled downright un-American.[7] Holden Caulfield, challengers charge, is quite simply not a good role model for teen-age readers.[8]

But, is Salinger’s protagonist intended to be a role model? If these concerned citizens realized that literature is a powerful platform for examining societal ills, they would have understood that depicting such behavior doesn’t necessarily mean the author is endorsing it. In fact, quite the opposite. When read merely for plot, The Catcher in the Rye appears to be nothing more than the story of a teenage boy having trouble transitioning to adulthood. However, the inappropriate behavior Holden Caulfield engages in, and the way he expresses himself have a rhetorical purpose. And when read accordingly, they reflect the shifting societal landscape Salinger sees in postwar America. Holden is grappling with the same kinds of questions the challengers’ own children are facing. Holden Caulfield is not, in fact, intended to be a role model. Because Salinger’s work is about much more than the antics of a rebellious teenager.

Given the kinds of complaints behind the banning of Salinger’s novel, it is no surprise that one of its challenges was led by a woman who had not read, and declared she would never read, The Catcher in the Rye.[9]  What is surprising is that someone who hasn’t even read a particular book has the capacity to restrict others’ access to it.

What these censors fail to realize is that there’s more to The Catcher in the Rye than “Holden Caulfield is a bad boy with a potty mouth.” Having said that, why is Catcher important? And what’s Holden is so cranked up about in the first place? Come to find out, Holden Caulfield is a twentieth-century Jeremiah._________

Catcher in the Rye banned

Holden Caulfield:
Twentieth-century Jeremiah.

During the post-World War II period when popular culture was trumpeting American ideals, Salinger was writing about the realities of the social experience in America, those obscured by a society consumed with image and material goals. Though The Catcher in the Rye has resonated with teenage readers as an expression of adolescent alienation for generations, it isn’t just about raging against the establishment. As Salinger’s biographers note, he was “not just another nihilist; and Holden [is] not just another lost boy.”[10] When read for more than plot, both the book and the boy exhibit a spiritual nature. Holden isn’t just running away from adulthood. He seeks to transcend a materially obsessed culture.

Salinger didn’t set out to write an anti-American diatribe, as The Catcher in the Rye has been labeled by those attempting to ban it. He was actually writing within the most American of literary forms, the jeremiad, to convey a message of reform. The jeremiad is a rhetorical method that was named for the prophet Jeremiah and used by the Puritans, one designed to keep American society in line with its ideals by calling attention to its flaws.[11]

An essential fact about The Catcher in the Rye, is that Holden does not reject historically American values. What he does is criticize the flawed way they’re enacted in modern society, and berate the replacement of morality with conformity.[12]  As his sister Phoebe points out to him, Holden has the Robert Burns line of poetry wrong, an incorrect recollection that gives us the novel’s title: it’s “if a body meet a body,” rather than “if a body catch a body.” What Holden’s misremembering tells us is that he’s not “looking for love in all the wrong places,” but as with all “Jeremiahs” (and maybe a few bullfrogs), he wants to save society from a corrupt and deteriorating culture.[13]
_______

It’s about more than teen-age angst.

On its face, The Catcher in the Rye is about an immature teenage boy unable to come to terms with his impending adulthood. And more often than not, it is this perspective that’s taught in schools. Sure, high school students can relate to that narrative. But “life is hard, and Holden needs to get himself together,” is a cursory reading of the novel at best.

The book has also been described as “a story about a boy whose little brother has died,” with Holden’s negative perspective on the world seen as a manifestation of his grief.[14] This interpretation does indeed delve beneath the surface narrative. And it is enlightening. But there’s still more to Catcher than the psychology behind Holden’s actions.

Others have read Salinger’s work through the lens of his World War II-induced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But, what’s the point of writing that book? For therapeutic purposes, perhaps? Holden’s exchange with Mr. Antolini suggests such a possibility, that he may be able to help himself by helping others with his novel. It is true that we are all “broken” in one way or another, and Catcher is most certainly relatable on that level. But, the self-imposed exile Salinger is so famous for suggests a purpose other than reaching out to other “irreparably damaged” people with a healing message.[15]

I would argue that The Catcher in the Rye is a re-fashioned jeremiad. Not only because this interpretation considers the author and his historical context, but because, as Lionel Trilling points out, “literary situations [are] cultural situations.”[16] Understanding Salinger’s work as a jeremiad takes “the animus of the author” into account.[17] That is, what he wants to see happen as a result of people reading his book.
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Catcher in the Rye banned

What the heck is a Jeremiad?

Considered America’s first distinct literary genre, the jeremiad is a political sermon that, as mentioned above, takes its tone from the biblical prophet Jeremiah. It’s a mode of public exhortation used by the New England Puritans through the close of the eighteenth century for the purpose of social revitalization. In other words, the American jeremiad is a call for America to self-correct.[18]

These days, in industrialized societies like ours, it’s genres such as film, popular music, and literature that serve to expose injustices, inefficiencies, and immoralities in social structures. These modes influence culture by getting us to think about the shortcomings in our society. This leads to new insights, which in turn take root and reshape cultural expectations.[19]
_________

There’s a long history of literature as jeremiad.

Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye belongs to a lineage of American writers who have inherited and re-fashioned the jeremiad genre, authors who produced literature thick with spiritual protest.[20] Harriett Beecher Stowe’s abolitionist novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin, for example, lambastes the country’s great sin of slavery, (and resulted in active resistance to the Fugitive Slave Act).[21] Henry David Thoreau’s essay Life Without Principle decries America’s narrow focus on making money, as well as the superficial nature of media, that “blunt[s]” a person’s sense of what is right.[22] Then there’s John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, which laments the widespread foreclosures and subsequent homelessness caused by the “double whammy” of the Depression and the Dust Bowl. This work takes aim at “American greed, waste, and spongy morality.[23] And the lineage continues right up through Salinger and beyond.

Given Holden Caulfield’s constant judgement of the world as he sees it, The Catcher in the Rye is nothing if not the “catalogue of iniquities” inherent to the jeremiad form.[24] Interestingly, the fact that Catcher’s critique of mainstream American goals has led to it being labeled “un-American” parallels the history of the American jeremiad itself.[25]

The Puritans failed to realize how their self-denunciations would sound to non-New England ears. And they were nothing short of shocked when others took their jeremiads at face value, which prompted leaders from competing charters to proclaim New England “a sink of iniquity.”[26] Bearing this in mind, it became necessary to explain that the jeremiad was a rhetorical exercise, intended as motivation to live up to American ideals.

A similar reproach is echoed in Sinclair Lewis’ declaration, “I love America… I love it, but I don’t like it,” a sentiment that also runs through the following passage from The Catcher in the Rye[27]:

But you’re wrong about that hating business. I mean about hating football players and all. You really are. I don’t hate too many guys. What I may do, I may hate them for a little while, like this guy Stradlater I knew at Pencey, and this other boy, Robert Ackley. I hated them once in a while – I admit it – but it doesn’t last too long, is what I mean. After a while, if I didn’t see them, if they didn’t come in the room, or if I didn’t see them in the dining room for a couple of meals, I sort of missed them. I mean I sort of missed them.[28]

Though Holden does indeed lambaste his classmates, as this passage shows he doesn’t carry any ongoing animosity toward them, or football players generally. Rather, his indictments call out particular behaviors commonplace in the larger society.
_________

Catcher in the Rye banned

What makes Holden Caulfield a “Jeremiah”?

Holden expresses a fear that he’s disappearing as he crosses from one side of the road or street to the other, an image that bookends the narrative. This symbolizes his sense of diminishing authenticity within American society. As Perry Miller argues in his work on the American jeremiad, since the days of Jonathan Edwards (a fiery eighteenth-century minister referred to as the last Puritan), western civilization has put reflections about the larger meaning of existence aside.[29] We have distracted ourselves with materialism and concerns for image, pursuits that do nothing to address the ills of society. And it is this demise of American ideals that Allie Caulfield’s death signifies, an interpretation underscored by Holden’s prophetic appeal, “Allie, don’t let me disappear,” when crossing the street toward the end of the novel.[30]

And, Holden Caulfield’s iconic red hunting hat is the most important symbol in The Catcher in the Rye. It alludes to the “hunters” mentioned in the book of Jeremiah, invading nations invoked as divine retribution for Israel’s failure to heed the prophet’s warnings.[31] The hat’s color is significant because red is the traditional color of forewarning, or signaling alarm. Fire trucks and ambulance lights both flash red, as do those at railroad crossings. In keeping with what the hat symbolizes, Holden’s reference to it as a “people hunting hat” indicates that he is “taking aim” as it were, to expose their hypocrisy and “phoniness.” To read it as a call for actual violence is a failure to engage the novel’s symbolic language. Needless to say, no one escapes Holden’s critical eye.
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What are Holden’s Puritanical ideals?

Though the fervor of Holden’s accusations is typically attributed to him being a “disaffected teen,” his targets align with themes common in the colonial pulpit, specifically, being tempted by profits and pleasures, false dealing with God, and the corruption of children.[32]

Regarding profits, Holden makes it very clear that he considers his older brother to have sold-out. D. B. used to write short stories, including Holden’s favorite about a boy so proud of buying a goldfish with his own money, that he wouldn’t let anyone else see it. But now, D. B.’s a Hollywood screenwriter who buys extravagant cars for all to see. These days, it’s more about greed and image than writing good stories.[33]

The Christmas pageant at Radio City also takes a hit. The holiday has been reduced to nothing more than a means of chasing profit. Angels emerge from gift-wrapped boxes, and “guys carrying crucifies and stuff all over the place,” all while singing Oh, Come All Ye Faithful. In typical irreverent fashion, Holden calls out the crass commercialization of a subject that should be approached with reverence and respect, proclaiming “Jesus probably would’ve puked if He could see it—all those fancy costumes and all.”[34]

Holden specifically addresses false dealing with God in a story revolving around Ossenburger, a Pencey donor speaking at a school event. Ossenburger is an alumnus who “made a pot of dough in the undertaking business” with a nation-wide franchise of cut-rate funeral parlors, sufficient wealth to bankroll the dormitories commemorated with his name. During school chapel, Ossenburger urges students to talk to Jesus all the time, which he himself does (or so he says), even while driving his Cadillac. Holden’s remark about Ossenburger “shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs,” targets hypocritical relationships with God, those based on show rather than piety and service.[35]

And where pleasures are concerned, unlike his “unscrupulous” classmate Stadlater who doesn’t even remember his dates’ names correctly, Holden aspires to spend time with girls he can relate to on an emotional or intellectual level. [36] Preferring a well-rounded relationship, Holden states, If you really don’t like a girl, you shouldn’t horse around with her at all.”[37]

The corruption of children is a particular hotspot for Holden Caulfield. Discovering obscene graffiti on the wall of his sister’s grade school drives him “damn near crazy.” He is irate thinking about how “some dirty kid” would tell Phoebe and her classmates what the offensive phrase means. And how, given their young age, the act portrayed would be confusing and nothing less than disturbing.[38]

The very name of Salinger’s book refers to Holden’s need to protect “little kids.” But how so, what does the title of The Catcher in the Rye mean? In the context of the titular metaphor, he envisions himself patrolling a field of rye, and catching the children who are playing there should they start to go over the “crazy cliff,” typically understood as adulthood.[39] From Holden’s prophetic view, adulthood would require the corruption of these children to be in line with a degraded society, consumed with image and material goals rather than traditional American ideals.
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Catcher in the Rye banned

The Jeremiad: Not just an
“Undying Monotonous Wail.”[40]

Despite its catalogue of iniquities, the American jeremiad’s distinctiveness doesn’t lie in the intensity of its complaint, but precisely the opposite. At the heart of this genre is an unwavering optimism in the American ideal. Which, as scholar Sacvan Bercovitch maintains, grows more emphatic “from one generation to the next.”[41]

Which is why Phoebe Caulfield enters the picture when she does. She embodies the “next” generation Bercovitch is referring to. The fact that Phoebe is the only character throughout the novel who actually listens to what Holden has to say is significant, in that she’s the one who “hears” his prophetic message.[42] And Holden allows her to wear his hunting hat, which establishes Phoebe as successor to Holden’s mission. Finally, Holden literally sets Phoebe in motion with a ticket for the carousel, where she optimistically sets her sights on the golden ring, an obvious symbol for the American ideal. The proverbial torch has been passed, with Phoebe carrying Holden’s mission forward.
_________

In Conclusion.

Reading The Catcher in the Rye as a re-fashioned jeremiad, we understand that Salinger’s intent was not to malign America. Very far from it. Like the Puritan jeremiads whose message was also misunderstood, Catcher urges America to remember the ideals on which it was founded, principles we appear to have forgotten, and to self-correct. What Salinger hoped to accomplish is that the readers of his novel would make that happen. But like the question of whether or not Holden will apply himself in school next year, it’s up to us to engage the endeavor.

That’s my take on J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye – what’s yours?
Check out this Discussion Guide to get you started.

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Endnotes:

[1] Quindlen, Anna. “Public & Private; Dirty Pictures.” The New York Times. April 22, 1990.­­
[2] Whitfield, Stephen J. “Cherished and Cursed: Toward a Social History of the Catcher in the Rye.” The New England Quarterly, Vol. 70, No. 4 (Dec., 1997), 575.
[3] Steinle, Pamela Hunt. In Cold Fear: The Catcher in the Rye Censorship Controversies and Postwar American Character. (Columbus: Ohio State University, 2002), 73, 52.
[4] Steinle, 61.
[5] Mydans, Seth. “In a Small Town, a Battle Over a Book.” The New York Times, (Sept. 3, 1989).
[6] Whitfield, 575.
[7] Laser, Marvin and Fruman, Norman. “Not Suitable for Temple City.” in Studies in J. D. Salinger: Reviews, Essays, and Critiques of The Catcher in the Rye, and other Fiction. Edited by Marvin Laser and Norman Fruman. (New York: The Odyssey Press, 1963), 127.
[8] Mydans.
[9] Mydans.
[10] Shields, David and Salerno, Shane. Salinger. (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2013), 265.
[11] Bercovitch, Sacvan. The American Jeremiad. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2012), xli; Miller, Perry. Errand Into the Wilderness. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984), 10.
[12] Steinle, Pamela. “If a Body Catch a Body: The Catcher in the Rye Censorship Debate as Expression of Nuclear Culture.” Popular Culture and Political Change in Modern America. Contemporary Literary Criticism. Vol. 138, 2001.
[13] Mallette, Wanda; Morrison, Bob; Ryan, Patti. “Lookin’ for Love.” Urban Cowboy Soundtrack. (Hollywood: Full Moon, 1980); Shields and Salerno, 265.
[14] Menard, Louis. “Holden at Fifty: The Catcher in the Rye and what it spawned.” The New Yorker. (September 24, 2001).
[15] Shields and Salerno, 243.
[16] Trilling, Lionel. “On the Teaching of Modern Literature.” First published as “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature.” Partisan Review, January-February 1961.
[17] Trilling.
[18] Bercovitch, Sacvan. The American Jeremiad. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2012), xli; Miller, Perry. Errand Into the Wilderness. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984), 10.
[19] Turner, Victor.  From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play. (New York: Performing Arts Journal Publications, 1982), 40-45; Turner, Victor. “Liminal to Liminoid, in Play, Flow, and Ritual: An Essay in Comparative Symbology.” Rice Institute Pamphlet – Rice University Studies, 60, no. 3 (1974), 71.
[20] Bercovitch, Sacvan. The Rites of Assent: Transformations in the symbolic Construction of America. (New York: Routledge, 1993), 18.
[21] Senior, Nassau William. American Slavery: A Reprint of an Article on “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” (London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans & Roberts, 1856), 2.
[22] Thoreau, Henry David. Life Without Principle. (London: The Simple Life Press, 1905), 29.
[23] Shillinglaw, Susan. “John Steinbeck, American Writer.” The Steinbeck Institute.
[24] Tolchin, Karen R. Part Blood, Part Ketchup: Coming of Age in American Literature and Film. (New York: Lexington Books, 2007), 38; Bercovitch (2012), 6-7.
[25] Laser, Marvin and Fruman, Norman. “Not Suitable for Temple City.” in Studies in J. D. Salinger: Reviews, Essays, and Critiques of The Cather in the Rye, and other Fiction. Edited by Marvin Laser and Norman Fruman. (New York: The Odyssey Press, 1963), 127.
[26] Miller, Perry. The New England MindFrom Colony to Province. (London: The Belknap Press, 1981), 173-174.
[27] Miller, Perry. “The Incorruptible Sinclair Lewis.” The Responsibility of Mind in a civilization of machines. Edited by John Crowell and Stanford J. Searl, Jr. (Amherst: The University of Massachusetts Press, 1979), 121.
[28] Salinger, J.D. The Catcher in the Rye. (New York: Little Brown and Co., 1991), 187.
[29] Rowe, Joyce. “Holden Caulfield and American Protest.” In New Essays on The Catcher in the Rye. Edited by Jack Salzman. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 88; Van Engen, Abram C. City on a Hill. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2020), 248; Brand, David C. Profile of the Last Puritan: Jonathan Edwards, Self-love, and the Dawn of the Beatific. (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991).
[30] Salinger, 198.
[31] Ellicott’s Commentary for English Readers. https://biblehub.com/commentaries/jeremiah/16-16.htm; The New Oxford Annotated Bible. Edited by Michael D. Coogen. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), Jeremiah 3:12-23, Jeremiah 27, Jeremiah 6:13.
[32] Tolchin, 41; Bercovitch (2012), 4.
[33] Salinger, 16.
[34] Salinger, 137.
[35] Salinger, 16.
[36] Salinger, 31.
[37] Salinger, 62.
[38] Salinger, 201.
[39] Salinger, 173.
[40] Bercovitch (2012), 5.
[41] Bercovitch (2012), 6.
[42] Moore, Robert P. “The World of Holden.” The English Journal. Vol. 54, No. 3 (March 1965), 160.

Images:
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1 The Catcher in the Rye cover from the 1985 Bantam edition. Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catcher-in-the-rye-red-cover.jpg   Cropped by User.

2 Rembrandt van Rijn. Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem. 1630. Public Domain via Rijkjsmuseum.nl/nl  http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.5242

3 Cotton Mather. By Peter Pelham, artist – http://www.columbia.edu/itc/law/witt/images/lect3/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80525

4 Holden Caulfield’s red hunting hat. Clipartmax.com  https://www.clipartmax.com/png/middle/121-1213961_the-red-hunging-hat-2-discussion-posts-kate-said-red-hunting-hat.png  (The original image has been flopped.)

5 First-edition cover of The Catcher in the Rye (1951). Public Domain. Source, Nate D. Sanders auctions (direct link to jpg) via Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Catcher_in_the_Rye_
(1951,_first_edition_cover).jpg

Original image retouched by uploader, and cropped by current user.




Maus: Why it Should be Unbanned.

Maus was banned

.ews about the McMinn County School Board’s unanimous decision to strike Maus from its curriculum made national headlines. Not only was Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning work the anchor text for a module on the Holocaust – it is shockingly ironic that the decision to remove it was rendered as the world prepared for International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Spiegelman’s response to this turn of events?  The board’s decision is “not good for their children, even if they think it is.”[1] And Professor Brett Ashley Kaplan is here to tell us why. The following essay by Dr. Kaplan also addresses why the banning of Maus and other books under threat, should be reversed.

I’m a Professor at the University of Illinois and Director of the Initiative in Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies who has taught both Toni Morrison’s brilliant novel Beloved and Art Spiegelman’s graphic memoir Maus multiple times.

It is no accident that both of these superb books are banned or under threat of banning at this fraught historical moment where we witness an aggressive, terrifying, and unwelcome rise in white supremacy. Beloved and Maus threaten the right because they are both complex narratives that invite readers who have not themselves been slaves or who have not themselves survived the Holocaust to glimpse these traumatic histories and experiences.

Neither book flattens or sugarcoats its realities. Both have gone a long way in provoking empathy.

And this will not do for those who wish to push a white supremacist agenda. Empathy, radical care for an other, being invited to see inside an other’s story are very scary emotions for racists and anti-Semites because that very empathy blocks hatred.

Why do I choose to teach both of these books? Because it is through carefully crafted art that we can begin to see others. And when we do that, we are less likely to cause harm, more likely to care.

When I last taught Beloved, the students learned so much: Margaret Garner, the historical model for Morrison’s main character, in 1856 faced a truly terrible choice. She faced what Holocaust survivors have come to call a choiceless choice. Rather than allow her daughter to be returned to slavery she took her life. It’s an unimaginably painful choice for a mother to make. There is no stronger way to grasp the horror of slavery than to understand that Margaret Garner made this choiceless choice. My students learn this. They also learn something about writing from the person I consider to be the best American writer of the twentieth century. Reading Beloved, my students tell me, changed their lives. Some of my students are the descendants of slaves, others are not. But they were able to see how haunting works, to understand that this legacy is still very much alive for the characters, is still very much alive for us, no matter what our identities.

This is why the brilliant 1619 project also felt threatening, and why critical race theory scares. I plan to teach the 1619 project and critical race theory because these, too, teach empathy.

There is no question that Maus is a watershed moment for many of my students. Art Spiegelman wrote Maus from his own memories of his family’s story of trauma, resilience, survival, and death. It’s not a simple narrative. Rendered in graphic memoir form that many undergraduates immediately gravitate towards, it conveys all the complexity of inheriting traumatic memories, all the love for a troubled father, all the ways in which Holocaust survivors both demonstrate their capacity to move beyond the worst and, at the same time and in tension with this, carry like burning coals memories that are so beyond what those of us who sleep in comfortable beds, can expect to eat food every day, and have never been hunted as though we were animals can ever understand. Maus has proven to be a beautiful, difficult portal into Holocaust history that has transformed the understanding of this awful past for so many students, in so many places. Maus has also transformed the graphic novel and graphic memoir, opening pathways for many other voices to gain a wider audience and be seen, heard, and cared for. In response to the McMinn County school board’s decision to ban Maus, I am adding Maus to my fall syllabus. This banning is censorship that smacks of the exact same modes of thought control that enabled the Nazi genocide.

The banning of Maus and threats against Beloved must be reversed so that democracy can thrive. I believe that the McMinn County School Board are resilient enough to recognize that they have made a mistake.

Please note:  This essay first appeared in the Feb. 3, 2022 edition of The News Gazette in Champaign, Illinois.

Plus, be sure to check out Professor Kaplan on Illinois Public Media’s The 21st Show, where they discuss the question of “What’s behind the recent wave of censorship in schools?”

Essayist bio:

Dr. KaplanBrett Ashley Kaplan Directs the Initiative in Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies at the University of Illinois where she is a professor of Comparative and World Literature and Director of Graduate Studies. She publishes in Haaretz, The ConversationSalon.com (picked up from Conversation), AsitoughttobemagazineAJS PerspectivesContemporary LiteratureEdge Effectsand The Jewish Review of Books. She has been interviewed on NPR, the AJS Podcast, and The 21st, and is the author of Unwanted Beauty, Landscapes of Holocaust Postmemory, and Jewish Anxiety and the Novels of Philip Roth. Her novel, Rare Stuff, is due out in June 2022 brettashleykaplan.com.

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#On Censorship      #Banned       #Guest Essayists       #graphic novels        #holocaust

Endnotes:

[1] Hernandez, Joe. “Art Spiegelman decries Tennessee school board for removing ‘Maus’ from its curriculum.”
https://www.wbur.org/npr/1076180329/tennessee-school-district-ban-holocaust-graphic-novel-maus

FYI:

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