"Persepolis": My Two Cents on the Chicago Issue

Hopefully by now, you've heard at least in passing that on March 15th, the Chicago School District banned the graphic memoir Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi, from its classrooms and libraries. Persepolis is Satrapi's memoir of growing up during a dangerous period of political unrest, Westernization, and discrimination during the Islamic Revolution in Iran. Satrapi tells her story of clashing cultures in graphic novel form, and yes, her story includes things like torture, a man urinating on another man, and images of exposed body parts. Because of these images the Chicago School District came to the conclusion that its students were not capable of handling the book, and banned Persepolis from its district (although since then it's backpedaled to only restrict its inclusion in the 7th grade curriculum. 8th and 10th grade curriculums are still up in the air).

The Chicago Teachers' Union, National Coalition Against Censorship, the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression, Association of American Publishers, the PEN America Centre and the National Council of Teachers of English, among others, have spoken out against the ban of such a powerful work of literature. Many opposed to the ban argue that really, this is the perfect age at which students should be introduced to stories like Satrapi's, since they are the approximate same age as the protagonist, and may be facing some of the same struggles at a time when they are caught between childhood and adulthood and can often feel helpless, directionless.

Yes, I think that Persepolis belongs in the hands of readers young and old alike. But I also think that whether or not the book should be taught is too shallow a question to ask when there is a much bigger issue lurking just below the surface. I'm talking about facing some of life's most difficult situations and working your way through to a plan of action.

Teenagers, even young ones and "tweens," are smarter than you think. Immature, yes, but smart. They know what goes on in the world, about war and violence and discrimination and rape, no matter how much you think you've sheltered them, no matter how much you'd love to think they will never have to face any of these difficult things. It's there on the evening news, in video games and song lyrics, in popular tv shows. These kids know about these horrible things even if their parents or teachers never say a word about it. They know these things exist, but do they know how to handle them?

Books like Persepolis provide the perfect opportunity for open discussion about these harsh realities, and healthy ways in which to address them. Teachers can be trained to use stories like Satrapi's as valuable guides for critical thinking and situational analysis from a third-person perspective, guiding the students through the protagonist's struggles with an eye toward constructive problem-solving. Analysis of this could take place through open class discussions and exploratory writing exercises to identify positive and negative actions taken by the protagonist, the impacts of those actions, and how and how a student can or can't relate to what the protagonist is thinking and feeling.

By overcoming the cultural gag order on controversial issues in our public school systems, we can guide students in the direction of healthy decision-making to prepare them for when they face their own seemingly impossible situations. And this opportunity is not limited to using Persepolis. Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian features a teenage boy who learns to view women as valuable individuals, instead of just sex symbols and objects of desire. It also includes a reference to masturbation. Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson, depicts the struggle of a teenage rape victim as she tries to accept what happened to her and tell someone about it. It involves teen drinking, delinquency, and rape. But these are the realities of teens in the modern age, which is why they appear in so many YA authors' work.

Public schools, however, need to consider whether a book is going to offend their community. This is a major stumbling block for the "teaching the situation" approach that I've outlined here. Some parents may insist that their child is still in need of being sheltered from the world, and for those people I really have no polite or diplomatic response at the moment. For the rest, who are concerned about how the book in question is to be taught or whether a single reaction to that book is going to be forced upon a child, I suggest that this is an incredible opportunity to be involved in a child's education. Especially knowing that a student is going to be reading and talking about some emotionally tough subjects, a parent can really seize the moment to talk with their child and ensure that they are getting familial values and ethics out of the book. Communication with teachers, too, can reassure parents that the book is indeed being taught as a constructive tool for handling future life challenges. An open dialogue between parents and educators with the child's education at the center of everything? What could be better?

Additionally, a parent volunteering to openly talk with their child about rape, violence, discrimination, and other tough issues in books shows a child that they're interested in what the child thinks on those issues. By talking about drugs in, for example, Go Ask Alice, a parent signals to a child that they are a "safe" person to whom they can address questions or concerns not just about the book, but in real life as well. The topic of drugs, or where they can lead, is no longer a forbidden topic because that topic has been broached by the book.

This is my idealistic, ever-hopeful, rose-tinted vision of what our education system could be like someday. We're nowhere near to reaching it, but that doesn't mean someday it won't be possible. For the time being though we're still stuck in a rut pitting teachers against school districts over an image of male genitalia or the word "bitch." And students keep watching their shows, playing their video games, without knowing that it's okay to talk about the harsh realities pictured there. This isn't just about Persepolis: It's about how we approach our children, what we trust them to be able to handle responsibly, and who's going to step up and teach them how to make it through the tough parts of life. Right now in Chicago, it looks like the ones who are really suffering because of this book ban are the students. And I sincerely hope that this changes soon. 

Book Review: "Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore" by Robin Sloan

Archaic codes and cutting-edge technology collide in this present-day tale of espionage and adventure. After Clay Jannon takes a job at San Francisco's strangest bookstore, he becomes curious about the unusual customers who check out the large tomes from the back shelves at odd hours of the night. His curiosity leads him into secret cults, the technological omnipotence of Google, and possibly to true love and to the secret to eternal life?

I was really impressed by the initial subject of this book: the intersection of traditional book reading and the new advances in reading technology. As someone who works at this crossroads nearly every day (as part of the Village Books eTeam) this subject is of personal interest to me, and to many others with one foot in literature and the other in the computer age. Sloan does a great job of depicting the huge leap between traditional book reading and the new technology of e-readers. The speed with which these developments are being made is truly incredible, and most of us can't even imagine the true technological might of a company like Google or other companies behind many new reading methods.

While the story in "Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore" is full of old codes, new kinds of books, methods of reading and a simultaneous love for antiquity, it gets strange really quickly. While I loved the RPG references and cherished fantasy novel memories on the part of the protagonist, it got hokey with the advent of an actual secret society as part of the story. That plus the unsatisfactory culmination of the society's centuries-old mission combined to form a real letdown at the end of the story.

However, the research that went into the font, and the idea to use it as a basis for a business/secret society was truly inspired. It brought to mind another recent book, this one nonfiction, about the history of fonts and their creation. A little bit about "Just My Type" by Simon Garfield can be found here if you're interested.

I'd recommend "Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore" to people who are interested in the cutting edge of reading technology but who still have a fondness for good old paper books, especially if you don't mind a little bit of cheese in exchange for some really cool technology. If you share Jannon's memories of high school fantasy obsessions, that helps too. This novel is available now at your favorite local bookstore! Also, did I mention that the yellow books on the cover glow in the dark? Awesome.

Book Review: "The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow" by Rita Leganski

This is a beautiful story about a little boy endowed with a special ability that will save his family from their own painful secrets. Born without a voice, Bonaventure Arrow can hear everything, from the bayou grasses near his home in Bayou Cymbaline, to trees blowing in Arkansas, to penguins on the ice in Antarctica. But beyond that, Bonaventure can hear colors, feelings, faith; his mother's sorrow and guilt, his grandmother's shameful secrets, and his dead father speaking to him.  It is this special gift of hearing, combined with the help and guidance of a housekeeper who is more than she appears, that will allow Bonaventure to alleviate the pain of both the living and the dead.

The writing in this novel is superb, with creative descriptions of the sounds that might be made by things we cannot hear. For instance, the color red is described as sounding like trombones. The inventiveness in Bonaventure's communication, from extremely expressive facial expression when he is very small to learning sign and writing, is really something incredible. Additionally, the language in the story itself is beautiful as well as simple, creating the feeling of open affection for Bayou Cymbaline and its unique brand of southern culture. The words themselves, how they have been crafted together, is indicative of the characters' attitudes.

Religion, from voodoo and hoodoo to Catholicism and various revival churches, plays a large role in this story but skirts around the common problem of being preachy. Centered as it is in a place with such rich and varied cultural history, this novel takes full advantage of its location and Leganski does an incredible job of blending multiple religions and spiritual practices into (mostly) harmonious coexistence, focusing on their commonalities instead of their differences.

This book made me feel like a witness to something strange and beautiful happening to people outside of myself. I recommend this book to anyone who loves a creative story of monumental kindness and beauty and sweet selflessness that puts things back as they should be. Look for The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow, by Rita Leganski, in your favorite local bookstore starting in March of this year.

Book Review: "Calling Dr. Laura" by Nicole J. Georges

A few years ago I stumbled upon and enjoyed the first graphic memoir I ever read: "Fun Home," by Alison Bechdel. It remains a respected piece of queer literature about growing up to realize you are homosexual, and the challenges with both family and self-acceptance that a person in that situation can experience. Now Nicole J. Georges brings you the next generation in lesbian graphic memoirs with "Calling Dr. Laura."

Set in Portland, Oregon, Georges's book honors us with an honest look at her life and at her as a person: her anxiety about finding lasting love, questions about her paternity, being abused when she was a child, and her mother's cycles of emotional manipulation, anger, and affection. But these heavy topics are skillfully tempered by the presence of a real sense of humor and some pretty sweet moments. Georges seems to embrace the stereotypical image of a vegan, hipster lesbian living in Portland, as evidenced by her jokes about vegan food (peanut butter cups are the only reliable recipe in her vegan cookbook) and lesbian relationships ("What did the lesbian bring with her on the second date?"). There is also a lot of love for dogs and stray chickens that she lets into her life and her heart.

Part of what makes me think of this memoir as so honest is the open depiction of uncertainty with romance, family, and self-identity. But another aspect of that honesty that I really liked was the fact that Georges openly admits to listening to conservative advice radio shows, and enjoying them! This personality quirk turns out to be very important to Georges, forming a turning point in her life and underscoring the idea that being gay isn't as important as being a person.

I found the art in "Calling Dr. Laura" both enjoyable and interesting. It's done in black and white, with lots of shading. Depictions of memories and childhood experiences are drawn more simplistically, without lots of the gray tones that are evident in the rest of the story of her adult life. That adult life and more emotionally charged moments are done with more detail and more complex artwork, so that the more intense the moment, the more complex the drawings seemed to be.

The story ended a little bit abruptly for me, but Georges thoughtfully offers a q-and-a epilogue of sorts about the lack of closure for some of the issues presented in her story. If you love grapick memoirs, are looking to read your first one, or are interested in a good-hearted memoir that focuses more on family and self-acceptance than sexuality, I recommend "Calling Dr. Laura," by Nicole J. Georges. Look for it in  your favorite local, independently-owned bookstore as of last month.

Book Review: "The Archived" by Victoria Schwab

Ready for a teenage protagonist who will actively choose reason over drama while still managing to keep you on the edge of your seat? Enter Mackenzie Bishop, the badass girl around whom "The Archived," by Victoria Schwab, centers.

This is an awesome first installment of what is sure to be an exciting and creative young adult series. Mackenzie and her parents move into the Coronado, a hotel-turned-apartment complex with a mysterious past, as they try to move past the death of Mackenzie's younger brother Ben. But in addition to family tragedy and relocation, Mackenzie is dealing with another strain on her time that actually keeps her from moving away from Ben's death: she is a Keeper, working for the mysterious Archive, in which all Histories of the dead are kept and tended to by Librarians. If one of the Histories awakes and escapes into the Narrows, a labyrinthine borderland between the Archive and the outside world, it is Mackenzie's job to find them and use one of the myriad doors there to get them to Returns, where they are safely put back into the Archive. 

As she settles into her new Keeper territory at the Coronado, Mackenzie discovers that the apartments have a bloody, violent past that tugs at her morbid sense of curiosity. Her pursuit of the building's history combined with a new friend (who also happens to be a Keeper) and a strange person who appears to be living in the Narrows is a recipe for all sorts of teenage angst and hair-pulling. Refreshingly though, Mackenzie's character displays a stoic pragmatism that feels more realistic than over-the-top teenage love drama in the context of her job as a Keeper. However, this compartmentalization of her emotions doesn't prevent the reader from empathizing and connecting with her. It even, to me, made her more relatable, especially when the walls of her neat little compartments start coming down and she finds herself having to deal with both of her separate worlds at once. 

Reminiscent of Garth Nix and the "Abhorsen" trilogy, Schwab has created a new and very clever representation of death and what happens beyond that veil. as well as who will look after us. Mackenzie's character takes that role very seriously, giving her friend Wes (also a Keeper) ample opportunities to foil her sometimes dour demeanor with intelligent jokes and melodramatic humor. He never fails to make Mackenzie (or me) smile.

If you're ready for a strong female protagonist not so easily swept off her feet and away from her responsibilities to others, if you liked the "Abhorsen" books, or if you're just ready for a creative new look at death, I very highly recommend "The Archived" by Victoria Schwab. I warn you, however, that upon finishing the book you may find yourself madly refreshing Schwab's website, searching her website for the release date of the next installment. "The Archived" hit shelves at your favorite independent bookstore on January 22nd. 

Book Review: "The Demonologist" by Andrew Pyper

Andrew Pyper's latest book caught my eye originally as I was browsing through a stack of ARCs because the criminal suspense is centered around Milton's "Paradise Lost." Literary geek that I am, I had to pick it up and see what it had to offer.

                

The protagonist, Professor David Ullman, is a scholar of religious texts, particularly of Milton, although he is not a religious man himself. Trapped in a black hole of a marriage with his daughter Tess the only bright point in his life, Ullman is suddenly approached by a mysterious woman representing a benefactor who wants to fly him to Venice. Why? To witness and weigh in on an undisclosed phenomenon relating to his work as a "demonologist," as the representative puts it. After initially saying no, Ullman takes Tess with him on what he thinks will be a relaxing, all-expenses-paid consulting trip to Italy. Alas, there would be no story if this were the case.  When he finds his way to the mysterious house in which he is to witness the phenomenon, Ullman finds himself face-to-face with a demon who wants him to be a witness to its presence. This meeting heralds the beginning of a desperate search for Tess, taken by the unnamed demon, all across the United States with a hired assassin pursuing him and a cancer-ridden best friend as his only copilot.

               

While it was an overall okay suspense novel with an interesting premise, I expected a little bit more of Milton than was presented. "Paradise Lost" was used to identify the demon and his purpose in choosing Ullman, his motivations and his weakness. Ullman also used it to find clues about where to go in search of Tess, but these quotes and clips were taken completely out of context of the original work, some of them requiring such great leaps of thinking (see the one about Florida) that they were almost pointless. Pyper might have more easily just said "Hey, let's have them randomly decide to go visit Jacksonville." The purpose of this interstate trip, when revealed at the end, doesn't excuse the sheer obscurity, almost randomness, of the journey itself.

The reader and Ullman are both told that Tess will be lost forever if he cannot save her within a certain time limit, but never once did the protagonist express any sort of clue as to how he was supposed to get her back. I imagine that this would be the more realistic representation of a father whose child has been taken: desperately following cobweb-thin clues, running around half-lost and confused. This is probably a more realistic representation than the persona of the Bold Hero who knows exactly what he's doing, but it somehow seemed to detract a sense of urgency from the writing.

SPOILER ALERT: After all that work, all that self-discovery and desperation, not to mention what gas must have cost him, Tess is magically returned to Ullman and everything is fine? He just gets on a train at the instruction of his dead friend, who is an angel, and Tess is there waiting for him. This ending screams "Just believe in God and everything will instantly be okay!" It's like the Book of Job rewritten for the modern era, only instead of getting new children Ullman has his used model back again.

If you like supernatural crime novels with no romance (sorry, "Twilight" and "Fallen" fans) give "The Demonologist" a try. Andrew Pyper's latest will be at your favorite independently owned bookstore in March of this year. Also expect to see a book-based movie by Universal Studios. 

Hey, Bibliophiles!

Want to give away 20 copies of an awesome book to strangers? Apply to be a Giver for World Book Day in April! It's simple, it's free, and it's a really neat idea. If you're interested, which you should be (because come on, when was the last time YOU were handed a free book that wasn't a Bible?) be sure to sign up by January 23rd. Just go to the link below:

World Book Night USA