My Response to John McWhorter on Black Opera

On Oct. 19, 2021, the New York Times published a piece by John McWhorter, a Black professor of linguistics at Columbia University, entitled: "Go See These Black Operas -- Several Times." You can read it by clicking on that link.

What follows is my response to that piece:

Dear Mr. McWhorter,

Your Oct. 19, 2021 piece in the NYT on opera conflated at least three, arguably distinct issues and in the process turned out to be something of a dog’s breakfast. It was sufficiently provocative nonetheless.

The easiest issue is whether Black composers and librettists (as opposed to singers) have been unfairly denied access to the Metropolitan Opera (and various similar organizations) and thus it is high time the Met staged something like “Fire Shut Up in My Bones.” I think we can stipulate that is true. On the other hand, just because the piece is a true Black opera (not an opera about Blacks written by a white person) doesn’t mean it is particularly good. As is the case with all other operas, time will tell.

Second are questions of cultural appropriation, or misappropriation – a trendy and highly “woke” topic. If you failed to bring this up, you would be viewed as seriously out of touch by certain constituencies in the current sociopolitical environment.

Artists have always depicted cultures other than their own, or been influenced by them and incorporated the narratives or aesthetics of another culture in their own work. There is, I personally believe, nothing at all wrong with this. The current cultural appropriation wars arguably have little to do with art and much to do with sociopolitical power.

(This is a different issue than what happened in the jazz era and beyond when white musicians and entrepreneurs basically stole music, or most of the revenues accruing to it, that had been originated by Blacks.)

Third, and in my case by far the most interesting topic, is the prevailing state of opera, no matter what the race or cultural background of the creators. Here, you seem to think you “should” like what opera has become although you are far from sure you actually do. Join the club. Why do you suppose opera companies stage only a limited number of contemporary pieces while relentlessly re-staging the old favorites?

In a nutshell and with broad generalization, in contemporary opera the singers serve the music. In most of the older forms of opera, the music served the singers. Singing, or extraordinarily virtuosic vocalization, was what it was all about. The stories were secondary and often somewhat ridiculous, or set well in some often mythic past, in large part because the threat of censorship was always present. Patrons largely bought tickets to hear their favorite singers sing particular roles, and to compare such performances to that of other prominent singers. The rest was spectacle.

That is far from the case at present, and as such raises the question, why opera? Why not just put on a play or make a film, the latter if you insist that background music adds to the story as opposed to at least partially obscuring it – as may be the case in the two operas under consideration in your article. You urge readers to listen to them repeatedly, not to hear great singing, but simply to make sense of them, which is apparently difficult otherwise. Oh well, there is nothing new about the notion of art for the sake of art. Viewers have frequently been told, for instance, that when gazing at abstract art: “it means whatever it means to you.”

You seem to wish that Blacks could, in effect, find a third way that they could call their own: opera somehow different from that characterized by the stand-alone arias of the past and more approachable and more broadly appealing than most contemporary opera. Something that would appeal to and be understood by an audience beyond those who attend because they think they “should” for one reason or another, but different and presumably more “high brow” than musical theater. “Porgy and Bess,” but written and composed by Blacks and with a story that avoids stereotypes? Porgy and Bess survives, of course, because the songs (or arias) are so good one (such as Angel Blue) can overlook the rest. Oops. There we are, back to opera as great songs and great singers with everything else secondary. Well, good luck.

One can argue that contemporary opera started or got into high gear with Wagner and his “it’s all about me” approach. Don’t give the singers arias that put them first and foremost. Make them serve my “total work of art” instead. Well, OK, that’s one approach and it arguably worked for Wagner (whatever one things of him), but less so for most of what has come in his wake.

That’s a sharp contrast to Handel who would regularly alter his compositions, and even drop parts of a story, or add new parts, so that a particular singer would come across at his or her best. That’s what the ticket buying public was paying for and Handel had to sell lots of expensive tickets. Mozart regularly wrote arias with the capabilities of particular singers in mind. And so forth and so on.

Everyone these days seems hung up over the race (or sexual orientation) of the creators and performers. As for me, where did I put that fabulous recording of Kathleen Battle singing G.F. Handel’s “Semele?” (I’m more than happy to overlook Ms Battle’s cultural misappropriation of the role and sorry I missed Angel Blue singing Mimi in “La Bohème” at the Seattle Opera as a result of the pandemic.)

Keep up the good work, and with my very best wishes. Maybe you’ll be able to make sense of it – for ALL of us – someday.

Fowler W. Martin

(P.S.  No surprise: there has been no response from Mr. McWhorter.)

 

 

I Can Just Hear the Screams of Cultural Misappropriation

 Suppose John O'Hara, Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart had all been Black Americans, wrote a musical set in a black community in 1940s Chicago, called it "Pal Joey." and saw it performed on Broadway more than once and also made into a film.

Suppose then someone came along and said "let's reset this in a white community in Chicago in the 1930s" and bring it back to Broadway in that fashion.

Can't you just hear the screams of cultural misappropriation?  Yet another example of white Americans ripping off Black creativity.

Well, of course (according to the Oct. 5, 2021 New York Times), the situation is the reverse.  The three men mentioned in the first sentence were white, the original was performed with white actors and it was set in the 1930s.  A new version, apparently headed for Broadway has remade the musical Black and set it in the 1940s.

There are apparently a host of other changes as well, including the addition of several songs that weren't in the original.

I'm tempted to say all of this has left me "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered," but in fact, it has left me simply wondering when what is bad for the gander will also be bad for the goose (or vice versa).

Young Adult Fiction and Where We're At These Days

 I have to admit I don't read Young Adult Fiction, but I love reading about it because perhaps more than any other type of literature, it points to where things are headed.  In theory, it is targeted at readers 12 to 18 years old but the experts tell us a great many readers are considerably older.  If true, that in and of itself says something about the nature of U.S. society at present and may help to explain certain electoral trends.

But anyway, who are the authors and what are they writing about?  A recent edition of the New York Times Sunday Book Review contained a summary of four books targeted at Young Adults by authors who hadn't written one previously.  They are illuminating.

The first, "Every Body Looking" is by first-generation Nigerian-American writer and dancer Candice Iloh and it is about a young Nigerian-American woman who isn't happy about her body, in part it seems because she was sexually abused as a child. Moving forward, thanks to a question posed by a dance teacher, we are told she explores such things as artistry, divinity and sexuality. That reminds me a bit of Dante's "Commedia" and especially because Ms Lloh's book contains poetry.

In the words of NYT reviewer Jennifer Hubert Swan, "this blazing coming-of-age comet will have everyone looking up."  How's that for a blurb?

The second book, "Cemetery Boys," is by Alden Thomas -- self-described as a queer, trans Latinx who prefers the pronoun "they."

"Cemetery Boys" is described as a "supernatural romance" set amid East Los Angeles Latinx culture and the chief protagonist is a 16-year-old gay-identifying trans boy. Latin American witchcraft (here identified as the brujx community, brujx being a word that apparently includes both the male "brujo" and the female "bruja" practitioners) is central to the story and, not surprisingly, there is a lethal secret "festering" within.

According to Ms Swann, the story's queer paranormal romance is depicted within a lavishly detailed blend of Latin American cultures and, among other things, deals with cultural appropriation -- definitely a timely topic in the age of cancel culture -- the stale, old culture, that is. 

"Windows into the intersecting Latinx and L.G.B.T.Q. experience are plentiful here and the opportunities for discovery and discussion are endless," says Ms Swan. 

"K-Pop Confidential," the third Young Adult title under consideration, was written by Stephan Lee, a Korean-American, and the chief protagonist is a Korean-American teenager named Candace Park who lives in -- oh, no -- New Jersey.  We'll she's not long for the home of Bridgegate when, after taking a tryout on a whim, she ends up in Seoul and the now dazzling world of K-Pop where the glitter is apparently at least somewhat offset by stalker fans and social media backlash. 

Ms Swan summarizes this one as "a frothy bubble tea of a book."  That's a drink that apparently originated in Taiwan as opposed to South Korea (is there such a thing as Tai-Pop?), but one gets the idea.

Lastly, there is "Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf," by Haley Krischer, a Jewish writer and journalist, about a high-school girl who is raped by a school sports star (soccer rather than football -- itself a sign of the times) upon whom she has had a crush.  Behind all of this, in an author's note, are the Congressional confirmation hearings of Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh and a painful episode in Krischer's life.

In the end, according to Swan, the book is more about female bonding than about retribution for the crime of rape, but at the same time "this novel serves as a sobering reminder: the fact that consent is being discussed in the classroom doesn't necessarily mean it's being enacted in bedrooms."

I previously wrote about rape and YA fiction here.

So there you have it: a list commendably devoid of any white male authors and one that deals with topics you won't learn about watching re-runs of "Leave it to Beaver." This is presumably the new world in which American children are now growing up.

"American Dirt:" Cultural Appropriation, Polemical Fiction?

"In contemporary literary circles, there is a serious and legitimate sensitivity to people writing about heritages that are not their own because, at its worst, this practice perpetuates the evils of colonization, stealing the stories of oppressed people for the profit of the dominant."

That paragraph jumped out at me when it read Lauren Groff's review of the recent, rather controversial novel "American Dirt," by Jeanine Cummings, because it seemed to call into question the fundamental nature of fiction: it's invented so no holds barred.

Here's the very first thing the contemporary God of Knowledge, Wikipedia, has to say about it: "Fiction generally is a narrative form, in any medium, consisting of people, events, or places that are imaginary—in other words, not based strictly on history or fact."

Let's repeat that: not based strictly on history or fact.

So, whether "American Dirt" gets Mexican culture right or not doesn't matter. No one has to read -- or finish reading this book.  On the other hand, if you like the story whatever you think about the verisimilitude of the setting (how about any number of movies?), you can brush aside certain perceived shortcomings.  Groff said that despite her objections, weeks after reading "American Dirt," the story remained alive in her.

Novels are arguably mostly written to provide entertainment for readers and income for authors. But according to Groff, not all of them.  "American Dirt," she argues, falls into a category known as polemical fiction -- in effect, propaganda masquerading as literature. Polemical fiction, Groff says, is designed to make its readers act in a way that corresponds to the writer's vision and in her view, the purpose of "American Dirt" is "fiercely polemical."

If then, it is essentially propaganda, why was it  awarded a full-page review in the Jan. 26, 2020 New York Times Sunday "Book Review" section? Perhaps like the old comic strip "Pogo," which some newspapers eventually banished to the op-ed pages, Groff's review should have experienced a similar fate.

I wonder how she might characterize certain of Charles Dicken's novels, or Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness?"

But, then, when I first sent drafts my novella "Gina/Diane," which centers on a botched abortion, to female friends for comment, some were quick to see it as polemical, or to argue that if could be so interpreted even if I didn't intend it to be. But arguments could go either way, I pointed out. Because Gina's abortion had not gone well and had life-long consequences, it could be seen as a treatise against a woman's right to choose.  But it could also be seen as an argument in favor of safe, legal abortion procedures.

But what about perpetuating the evils of colonization by writing a story about a culture that is not one's own? I think I'll leave that one for another day -- and perhaps put on a CD of Puccini's opera "Madam Butterfly" to help me get through the pandemic.

 

Identity Politics Viewed As A Threat To Fiction

During the recent presidential election, America arguably shifted significantly from policy-based political affiliations to affiliations based on cultural and racial identities.

Most notably working class whites living in the so-called Rust Belt states switched in significant numbers from the Democratic candidate for president to a man running as a Republican even though he had attacked the GOP establishment as aggressively as he was attacking the Democrats.