I will be honest--the "Black Aesthetic" is something I know very little about. However, I am fascinated by the Black Writing model, which compares black literature world wide as sharing certain characteristics. Such a wide race-based model seems a little improbable, or perhaps too general to be especially helpful. However, the specific characteristic of "signifyin(g)" (the use of words which have multiple connotative meanings) does seem to have relevance in this area of study.
Just thinking about the spiritual (referring to heavily encoded and symbolic religious songs) tradition, the importance of name symbolism, and symbolic storytelling in Black culture (and I'm aware I'm painting with a VERY broad brush at this point...but then, so are Black Aestheticists), signifying makes sense.
In the Angela Johnson book, First Part Last (winner of the Coretta Scott King Award) there is much she does not make explicit, there are whole worlds of implications in the structure of the story, its settings, even the rhythm and language of the book seems to be signifying something greater than a tragedy in the life of one teenage boy.
However, to say that Bobby, through the lens of signifying represents all hopeless black teenage boys who have disappointed the high hopes their families had for them is taking it too far...so clearly this signifying tool can be a dangerous one. I don't think I know enough about the theory and its applications to fully explicate where the line is between viable connotation and conjecture, but I do find this idea interesting and would be interested to further study it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
What I Saw and How I Lied
by Judy Blundell won the 2008 National Book Award, a very high distinction bestowed by writers themselves--through the National Book Foundation. Having read the novel, I have an idea about why that might be.
First, about the book. What I Saw and How I Lied tells of seventeen-year-old Evie, living in America immediately after World War II, and the events surrounding a fateful trip to Florida. It deals with falling in love, first sexual experiences, mothers having affairs, fathers involved in shady business, hurricanes, murder trials, and ultimately, the financial and social results of World War II in America--including anti-Semitism.
This is fairly heavy material, and the book's treatment of it only serves to heighten the drama of the events within, rather than, as is typical of YA historical fiction, downplay them in favor of more personal discoveries. The plot is somewhat convoluted, and relies heavily on the naivete of the narrator to provide dramatic revelations later in the book. Evie's "coming-of-age" is not the joyful event one might hope for, but an upsetting one, in which she learns to lie, to protect her family whether they are right or not.
It is in this aspect, the complexities of "coming-of-age" that Blundell deserves her award. After all, she is working in a tradition, and although Evie is no Holden Caulfield, Blundell manages to meld all the disparate elements of What I Saw and How I Lied in Evie's internal journey, and still keep all the drama she desires. In this book, I see a breaking of the marketing rules that seem to constrain so many YA authors, and yet, a novel that still lies squarely and undeniably in YA company.
Evie becomes a sophisticated young lady over the course of the novel--from being afraid to step on a crack, to lying under oath in order to save her guilty parents. The type of emotions she feels are typical of YA novels: a realization that the world has shades of grey, sadness about the loss of a first love, confusion about sex, disillusionment about adults, and so on. However, the way she acts is not typical--she manipulates the situation completely, discards her former friends, and sends her father's wealth (acquired from the "Gold Train"--the confiscated goods of Holocaust victims) to Jewish refugees. Basically, Evie engineers the solution to what seems like a hopeless situation, by acting absolutely ruthlessly, by lying, as the book's title suggests.
In Blundell's National Book Award, I see admiration for a daring author, by her fellow writers, all caught in the same marketing trap that is YA lit. Blundell was honored for writing a complex character in a meticulously detailed historical setting, and most of all, for a truly gripping and thought-provoking read that never descends into sentimentality. In short order, an unusual young adult novel all around.
Do these things make me like the book, or Evie, for that matter? Not especially. But it was certainly unlike any other YA book I have read, and for that I appreciate it, and Blundell's accomplishment.
First, about the book. What I Saw and How I Lied tells of seventeen-year-old Evie, living in America immediately after World War II, and the events surrounding a fateful trip to Florida. It deals with falling in love, first sexual experiences, mothers having affairs, fathers involved in shady business, hurricanes, murder trials, and ultimately, the financial and social results of World War II in America--including anti-Semitism.
This is fairly heavy material, and the book's treatment of it only serves to heighten the drama of the events within, rather than, as is typical of YA historical fiction, downplay them in favor of more personal discoveries. The plot is somewhat convoluted, and relies heavily on the naivete of the narrator to provide dramatic revelations later in the book. Evie's "coming-of-age" is not the joyful event one might hope for, but an upsetting one, in which she learns to lie, to protect her family whether they are right or not.
It is in this aspect, the complexities of "coming-of-age" that Blundell deserves her award. After all, she is working in a tradition, and although Evie is no Holden Caulfield, Blundell manages to meld all the disparate elements of What I Saw and How I Lied in Evie's internal journey, and still keep all the drama she desires. In this book, I see a breaking of the marketing rules that seem to constrain so many YA authors, and yet, a novel that still lies squarely and undeniably in YA company.
Evie becomes a sophisticated young lady over the course of the novel--from being afraid to step on a crack, to lying under oath in order to save her guilty parents. The type of emotions she feels are typical of YA novels: a realization that the world has shades of grey, sadness about the loss of a first love, confusion about sex, disillusionment about adults, and so on. However, the way she acts is not typical--she manipulates the situation completely, discards her former friends, and sends her father's wealth (acquired from the "Gold Train"--the confiscated goods of Holocaust victims) to Jewish refugees. Basically, Evie engineers the solution to what seems like a hopeless situation, by acting absolutely ruthlessly, by lying, as the book's title suggests.
In Blundell's National Book Award, I see admiration for a daring author, by her fellow writers, all caught in the same marketing trap that is YA lit. Blundell was honored for writing a complex character in a meticulously detailed historical setting, and most of all, for a truly gripping and thought-provoking read that never descends into sentimentality. In short order, an unusual young adult novel all around.
Do these things make me like the book, or Evie, for that matter? Not especially. But it was certainly unlike any other YA book I have read, and for that I appreciate it, and Blundell's accomplishment.
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