"Mockingbird" Fails the Political Correctness Test in Mukilteo

 In late December 2021, "To Kill a Mockingbird" won a New York Times contest for the best work of fiction published over the past 125 years. About a month later, a school board in Mukilteo, Washington voted to remove it from the required reading list for ninth graders,

Mukilteo, for those unfamiliar with it, is a coastal town north of Seattle next door to Everett, Washington, the site of one of Boeing's largest aircraft assembly plants, 

Removing a book from a required reading list is not the same as banning it since individual teachers can still assign it, but it is nonetheless an interesting development and, appropriately, the Mukilteo decision has been widely reported.

According to a report by the Everett HeraldNet, a local news outlet, the book was dropped for several reasons including that it "celebrates white saviorhood," is guilty of "marginalizing characters of color" and it uses "the n-word almost 50 times." 

This is a HUGE topic for anyone interested in fiction and and/or interested in whether, in the current, fraught sociopolitical climate, writers have to exercise self-censorship to avoid getting "cancelled" by the thought police. So what follows is, even more than usual, is meant to be provocative as opposed to dispositive.

First, of course, one has to ask why children are assigned to read works of fiction in school. Is this to familiarize themselves with writing as an art form, and in the process, learn how differing writers deal with differing subject matter in the course of practicing their art?  Or is it an exercise in political correctness, which is to say school children should be assigned books deemed ideologically appropriate for young minds and therefore properly instructive in the prevailing sociopolitical context?

This is, of course, a moving target. Much Young Adult fiction is now celebrated for dealing with topics of sexual identity that would have been deemed highly inappropriate not that long ago.  One could go on and on and especially with respect to themes of violence.

But back to "Mockingbird," a book about which I have had very mixed feelings after the controversial publication of "Go Set a Watchman," essentially the first draft of "Mockingbird," a few years ago. In a nutshell, a very talented editor known as Tay Hohoff worked with Harper Lee for a couple of years, an effort that significantly recast Lee's original conception and made the book vastly more sellable. One can argue the final product was as much a work of commerce as a work of art.

"I was a first-time writer so I did as I was told," Lee said in 1015 -- in the wake of the publication of "Watchman."

Most significantly, the chief character, Atticus Finch, depicted as a bigot in "Watchman," was turned into what the Mukilteo school board viewed as a representative of objectionable "white saviorhood" in "Mockingbird." 

That's interesting on its face. Readers of "Mockingbird" surely know that Finch succeeds in saving no one. At best he is a "savior wannabe," but frankly, not even that. He just believes that in a society established under the rule of law, justice should be applied fairly and equally to everyone. But gosh, he has white skin and is a male -- apparently cis-gender as well -- and we now know that cis-gender white males are responsible for The Patriarchy, slavery, colonialism, a fundamentally racist American Constitution and a systematically racist society and so forth and so on. So out he has to go.

But wait a minute: "Mockingbird" was written about a different era when such notions were not in vogue. It's a story about how a particular family, and a particular community, reacted to a certain situation during a certain period of time. Is that so difficult to understand? Can't a high school child, with a teacher's help, evaluate it in that context? Or does this instead have to be taught as a now all-too-transparent attempt by Lee and her editor to make white America look better than it actually has been -- and to make whites feel better about themselves than they "should." 

Then there is the charge that black characters were "marginalized" and that the "n-word" was used -- at all, or too often? Well, one of the three main characters in "Mockingbird" is black his role in central as opposed to marginal. But, too be fair, he is given more to say in the current Broadway play version of the story than in the book itself, perhaps reflecting such concerns. Interestingly, the Finch family's black maid, Calpurnia, is given more to say in "Watchman" than in the edited version of Lee's story, which is to say "Mockingbird."

But Lee can fairly argue that Tom Robinson, the falsely accused black man Atticus Finch attempts to defend, and Calpurnia were accurately depicted as they would have been during the time period in question. 

As for the "n-word," one hardly knows what to make of this when, walking down a crowded street in New York city, just ahead of a group of black males, one hears the taboo "n-word" in just about every sentence.

Self-Censorship and The Purpose of the Arts

 Back in early December 2021, the New York Times had an article entitled "Writers Tackle the Challenge of Self-Censorship" based on a discussion of the topic sponsored by PEN America, an organization founded in 1922 in support of freedom of expression.

Long considered a basic right in the U.S. as enshrined in the First Amendment to the Constitution, free expression is under threat from both the right and the left at present with writers of all description in the firing line.

This came to mind the other day when I read in the NYT a review of a book called "Authority and Freedom, A defense of the Arts," by Jed Perl. In it, Perl argues art should be freed from the notion that to be valid, it has to address prevailing sociopolitical concerns. 

The reviewer, American composer John Adams, who has had rare success with contemporary opera -- "Nixon in China" and "Doctor Atomic" -- faulted Perl for not giving any examples of art that sacrifices aesthetic authenticity for social relevance. 

"On wonders whether the real reason for his silence here is the now-familiar threat of being cancelled," Adams said. 

I, personally, wouldn't be all that surprised since I have been pondering, in the prevailing cancel-culture, cultural-misappropriation climate, whether I need to change the race of a character in my operetta "Patricia," a work in progress (and one that in all likelihood always will be).

While I personally tend to fall into the "art-for-the-sake-of-art camp," Adams clearly doesn't.

"It's unlikely that 'Authority and Freedom' will change many artists' minds about how they view their work. They will do what they want, and many, if not most, today are ablaze with an intensity not seen since the 1930s to make their art speak truth to power, to heal what they deem the rent in our social fabric," he said.

Perhaps Adams, on his part, can provide some examples of contemporary art that has successfully healed (my emphasis) as opposed to -- say -- addressed "the rent in our social fabric."  

"If you ask them," Adams continued, "they will tell you that art that doesn't address this sense of urgency is not just out of touch with the times, it is irrelevant."

My own sense is that if an artist creates something of exceptional aesthetic value, it will far outlast creations that are first and foremost in touch with the sociopolitical currents of their times although, to be fair, there are examples over the course of history that have successfully hit both targets.

The World of Ballet: Changes Coming to San Francisco

 Today's news: the San Francisco Ballet, the oldest ballet company in the U.S., has selected Tamara Rojo as its first woman artistic director, effective at the end of this year. But, given the long lead time needed for developing programing, just what she has in mind for the company won't be fully evident until the 2023-24 season.

According to a New York Times article, Rojo was rather vague on what that might be, saying only that she was interested in keeping ballet "relevant to a younger audience that sometimes has new values and principles" and that she would be instituting a system of "checks and balances" when it came to casting and dancer evaluations. The latter may be necessary in part because Rojo's husband, Isaac Hernandez, recently rejoined the SF Ballet as a principal dancer, providing Rojo with a built-in conflict of interest. The search committee asked "difficult questions" about that, the NYT said, but not so difficult as to rule Rojo out. 

Rojo also told the NYT that along with focusing on female choreographers, she would bring "new voices to interpret the classics."

In what was probably a foretaste of what is to come on that front, in her current position as head of the English National Ballet (not to be confused with the Royal Ballet), Rojo mounted a reimagined version of "Giselle" created by Akram Khan, a Londoner born to a family from Bangladesh. The choreography was infused with modern dance and Indian dance elements and the story was reset in what has been described as "present-day dystopia."  Instead of peasants, there are disposed migrant workers labeled "the Outcasts" and the underworld is full of "ghosts of factory workers who seek revenge for the wrongs done to them in life" instead of the traditional Willis -- the spirits of maidens betrayed by their lovers dancing in floaty white dresses.

What then will SF ballet audiences see?  Swan Lake set in a Superfund site? Or maybe Coppelia in a highly automated factory with a bunch of out-of-control robots astonishing the visiting children? 

Sunnie Evers, co-chair of the SF Ballet's search committee, told the NYT that the company initially contacted over 200 possible candidates as possible replacements for Helgi Tomasson, who has been the SF Ballet's artistic director since 1985. By last July, when the list had been narrowed down to eight: "we had three people of color and three women in that round," Evers said, adding "there is a lot of talk about ballet being dominated by white men, so I am thrilled we were not."

Well, that's pretty much where it's at these days if one spends much time reading the NYT.  When it comes to the arts, just who created something -- their gender, color and sexual orientation -- is more important than what actually gets created. In the case of Khan's "Giselle," one could argue it was a case of cultural misappropriation, but that is apparently only the case in a reverse situation -- a white artist making use of something stemming from a non-white culture. The Western canon, if not cancelled, is up for grabs.

"To Kill a Mockingbird" Wins NYT Best Book Contest

 Last October, to mark the 125th anniversary of its Book Review section, the New York Times asked readers to nominate the best book published in a variety of different categories during that time frame,

In its Dec. 29, 2021 edition, the Times announced that after tallying more than 200,000 votes from all 50 states and 67 foreign countries, the winner for fiction was "To Kill a Mocking Bird," by Harper Lee.

I've written about "To Kill a Mocking Bird" (and arguably its very different first draft, subsequently published as "Go Set a Watchman") here, here and here. 

Those interesting in taking another look at "Mockingbird" might find it interesting to consult what I have written about it before doing so.

By the way, back in 2012, "To Kill a Mockingbird" came in second on a 200-best-books list offered by the British Broadcasting Company -- just after Jane Austin's classic "Pride and Prejudice."   You can find that list here.

Thanks to Amber and Mary for Rating "Gina/Diane" Highly

 I would like to take a moment to thank two women -- Amber and Mary -- for giving my novella "Gina/Diane" five-star ratings on "Goodreads," where Kindle versions of the book were recently awarded to 100 applicants in a promotional giveaway. 

I thought this might be a good time to promote the book because it is about the consequences of a then-illegal abortion. While it is inspired by something that actually happened, it is a work of fiction.

As readers surely know, the U.S. Supreme Court is currently in the process of revisiting the issue of abortion rights currently enshrined in its 1973 decision known as Roe v. Wade. Given the makeup of the court, abortion-rights advocates have expressed fears at least some individual states will return to the sort of environment that adversely affected my heroine.

"Enjoyed this storyline and read," Mary said about "Gina/Diane."  I'm grateful for her having taken the time to do so -- and I'm grateful that Amber took the time to rate the book as well.

The Methodology of "A Lot Of Things Have Happened"

 One of the age-old questions is: should a work of art, such as a short story, be able to stand on its own, without explanation, to be valid? In other words, if its creator has to explain it, is it a failure?

In general, I think that's a good general proposition, but there are exceptions, and such is arguably the case with respect to "A Lot Of Things Have Happened," a short story by Adam Levin in the Dec. 27, 2021 issue of The New Yorker. It's a string of awkwardly unpleasant, or downright disgusting, incidents that take place over a period of years to a college instructor, first with a girlfriend and then with his wife.

Curiously, he is named Adam Levin, or at least that's what his parrot calls him -- sometimes just "Adam," other times just "Levin," but in the last two words of the story: "Adam Levin." The complete name out of the parrot's beak seems to imply that we now know everything we need to know about Mr. Levin. The preceding set of incidents in the story paint him in full -- as someone who, if you don't happen to know him, you don't need to.

In the usual New Yorker author interview, Levin (the author) is asked how he went about constructing his story and this is where matters get more interesting.

In reply, Levin, a seasoned writer, said that he had recently gotten more interested in trying to figure out how to put anecdotal material together without "artful transition." 

"With this particular story, the first thing I did was write a handful of fictional, largely disconnected, first-person anecdotes as sparsely and impactfully and comically as I could, each one in the same voice. Once a certain number of these anecdotes accrued—a greater number, to be sure, than appear here, in “A Lot of Things Have Happened”—I began to notice some commonalities between the anecdotes (example: tools kept getting misused) and adjusted the volume on those commonalities so as to make the anecdotes more continuous with one another. In the course of doing that, I began to discover what the larger story wanted to be (or what I wanted it to be), I cut away the redundancies and distractions as best I could, and rearranged the order of the anecdotes till (hopefully) they fell into the sequence that best served the whole."

Interested readers can decide for themselves whether Levin was successful in putting together a compelling work of fiction, but his methodology is worth thinking about. I think one often stumbles across, or comes up with, a vignette that seems worthy of writing up, only then to wonder: "What to do with it? "

Goodreads Giveaway for Gina/Diane, a Book About Abortion

 

Above is the cover of my second novella, "Gina/Diane," first self-published several years ago. But because it is about abortion, I thought it might be a good time to make a small promotional effort, given the U.S. Supreme Court's current agenda and very recent deliberations.

"Gina/Diane," inspired by what happened to a woman I once knew, looks back to a time -- not that long ago -- when abortion was illegal in the U.S.  This is not that woman's story per se. It's fiction, set in an entirely different location: an out-of-season North Carolina beach community. But the more poignant aspects of it are all too true with respect to at least one life, and I suspect others as well.

The promotional effort took the form of a Goodreads giveaway for books available on Amazon's Kindle platform, which is to say either on a Kindle reader or on a computer or a smartphone equipped with a Kindle app. 

One pays about $120 to have Goodreads, an arm of Amazon, run a month-long promotion of the type I purchased.  Results were reported to be as follows: 533 people entered the drawing of which 100 were awarded a free Kindle edition of the book and 465 people supposedly put it on a "want-to-read" list. 

 Based on the results of a similar giveaway I ran for my first book, "Manhattan Morning" back some time ago, that doesn't mean much, if anything at all.

(By the way, if you click on the link above, you can now get a free, illustrated edition of "Manhattan Morning" in an easy-to-read PDF format. As Manhattan is changing, the book is gradually becoming a document of some historical relevance as well as a good story for those disinclined toward violence, weird sex, etc. etc. And the ending closely tracks a real-life incident.)

In my experience, a Goodreads giveaway is a poor way to market a book (the best way is to somehow become a member of the Literary Industrial Complex at which point the New Yorker may publish an excerpt masquerading as a short story and interview you with some softball questions. But a Goodreads giveaway is easy, leaving one plenty of time for other pursuits.

As for "Gina/Diane" itself, what can I say other than: "I highly recommend it!"