Do you ever have one of those books that you can't put down? I started Zachary Mexico's China Underground on Wednesday and breezed through the first hundred pages and read the last 200 last night, finishing just after midnight. It wasn't one of those so-called profound books and I won't be talking about how it changed my life, but it was addicting. Mexico has this conversational, sing-songy way of writing that just flows from chapter to chapter. It's a travelogue and he's never in one place for very long (I suspect some critic would cite the book as lacking "depth."), but his insights and criticisms are spot on. He's not overly-idealistic about China, but he's not ethnocentric either.
But alas, this is not a blog of book reviews. It has led me to contemplate what kind of reader I am or want to become. When I leave college, I don't want to stop reading. Indeed, I want to devour more than ever because I won't have the demands of school hounding me. But what kind of reader am I? Well, most of the time I think of myself as not having read enough. I don't know enough history; I haven't read enough the classics; I'm over-read in a certain area or time period, etc. I'm not blameless, but I suspect that college has made me one of those over-neurotic types that never thinks he's good enough and thus prone to panic and self-doubt on a regular basis. Or was that my Catholic upbringing? Let's just hope I'm not famous enough at my death to warrant a publication of my journals...the analysis, psycho and otherwise, would keep people occupied for centuries.
The last two weeks have been hard. The holidays always make me more pensive. Myles and I decided to just be friends, which is as complex as it sounds. One of my biggest supporters in my college career recently rebuked me in a controversy that seems to be ever-unfolding. All of it has culminated in a decision I believe is best for me: I am NOT going to apply to the University of Iowa. Over the past few days I've gone from telling myself I'm not ready for a doctoral program to I hate what universities have become and are becoming and I don't want to be in that environment. If I am accepted to USM for Social Work, I will go, but right now I am planning for other alternatives for next year. The mystery of it all frustrates and scares me. And that's where I am right now.
I'm about to go make some delicious (pray!) pizzas and enjoy some time with friends. It's a small task and pizza isn't that hard to make, but I need to find my success and satisfaction in the little things in life.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
A little Thanksgiving LitCrit
I'm currently waiting for the crabmeat-stuffed haddock (or is it the other way around) to come out of the oven and the lobster risotto smells delicious on the stove! We're just having a small family dinner this year so I've spent most of the day reading waiting for the Criminal Minds marathon at 4. I can't stand the Westminister Dog Show or the Macy's parade and ABC and NBC have come up with these new, modern cartoons that AREN'T Charlie Brown or Frosty the Snowman, so I've got a half hour until serial killing and Matthew Gray Gubler's hair come on.
I read the NYT and Slate today and I thought I might visit asmainegoes.com, a forum for all things political in Maine. Admittedly, I'm not up on my Maine politics, but I like to see what most of these ordinary hard-working men and women think about their state and this is what I found: http://www.asmainegoes.com/content/occupy-aroostook. Okay, so you might be as annoyed as I am about another Occupy protest, especially one that seems more about counteracting the Tea Party or espousing the liberal agenda Obama won't take on and not about ending bank bailouts. (I like some other parts of the platform too, but let's not get into the nitty-gritty.)
First paragraph: "Prof. Alice Bolstridge is the organizer. She is a poet who taught Literary Theory, Creative Writing and American Lit at the Oklahoma State University. Literary theorist are academics who write and often speak in Litcritalian, an obscure dialect of English using familiar verbs drained of familiar meanings and neologisms meaning nothing at all. Litcriticians know almost nothing yet believe they have a unique understanding of everything."
Literary theory is frustrating. Agreed. Yes, many theorists write in this cryptic language that seems to rely upon its obscurity to both make meaning and display the intelligence of the author. Me: I appreciate lucidity and erudite insights. Indeed, I've spent many a post criticizing theory and theorists for the way in which they often obscure what they are actually talking about or seem more intent on displaying their own prowess the way a peacock flaunts its feathers. But this attack is ad hominem outrageous! What does Professor Bolstridge's background as a theorist (not to mention her success as a scholar of American Literature and Creative Writing) have to do with Occupy Aroostook? Professor Bolstridge has been remarkably clear in demands and even intimates her aspirations from the implementation of said demands, as you can read in the AMG post. The author writes a self-defeating argument. Okay, you disagree with her. Okay, maybe you don't need to take Occupy seriously (especially the one at Harvard). But why do you need to open with a personal attack in order to start a discourse of disagreement?
I read the NYT and Slate today and I thought I might visit asmainegoes.com, a forum for all things political in Maine. Admittedly, I'm not up on my Maine politics, but I like to see what most of these ordinary hard-working men and women think about their state and this is what I found: http://www.asmainegoes.com/content/occupy-aroostook. Okay, so you might be as annoyed as I am about another Occupy protest, especially one that seems more about counteracting the Tea Party or espousing the liberal agenda Obama won't take on and not about ending bank bailouts. (I like some other parts of the platform too, but let's not get into the nitty-gritty.)
First paragraph: "Prof. Alice Bolstridge is the organizer. She is a poet who taught Literary Theory, Creative Writing and American Lit at the Oklahoma State University. Literary theorist are academics who write and often speak in Litcritalian, an obscure dialect of English using familiar verbs drained of familiar meanings and neologisms meaning nothing at all. Litcriticians know almost nothing yet believe they have a unique understanding of everything."
Literary theory is frustrating. Agreed. Yes, many theorists write in this cryptic language that seems to rely upon its obscurity to both make meaning and display the intelligence of the author. Me: I appreciate lucidity and erudite insights. Indeed, I've spent many a post criticizing theory and theorists for the way in which they often obscure what they are actually talking about or seem more intent on displaying their own prowess the way a peacock flaunts its feathers. But this attack is ad hominem outrageous! What does Professor Bolstridge's background as a theorist (not to mention her success as a scholar of American Literature and Creative Writing) have to do with Occupy Aroostook? Professor Bolstridge has been remarkably clear in demands and even intimates her aspirations from the implementation of said demands, as you can read in the AMG post. The author writes a self-defeating argument. Okay, you disagree with her. Okay, maybe you don't need to take Occupy seriously (especially the one at Harvard). But why do you need to open with a personal attack in order to start a discourse of disagreement?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Decolonizing the Mind & Why We Should Be Angry
UMF's Native American Film and Performance Symposium came to a close last Wednesday with a poetry reading and talk by William Yellow Robe Jr., followed by a staged reading of his play Wood Bones and a Q&A. Yellow Robe is about to publish an e-book tentatively titled Spam Rants of that Crazy Indin Yellow Robe.
While Yellow Robe's poetry concerned itself mainly with the loss of his first wife to cancer, the mere act of writing poetry (as well as being an accomplished playwright) signals his concern over indigenous peoples' ownership of emotions and storytelling. He gives his audiences a unique Native perspective and even when we're angry, disturbed, or saddened by what we hear and see on stage, we (especially non-Native people) need to pay attention. As Yellow Robe tells it, he might be angry and write about it, but if we have no problem asking a crying person why they're sad, then we need to ask angry people why they're angry. And Yellow Robe is angry, at least in print. He's not ranty, or spewing vitriolic negativisms as White people, but he is contesting both White and Native stereotypes and ethnocentrisms and as he said at dinner, it gets tiring to feel like he's saying the same thing over and over and wondering if anything is changing.
One of Yellow Robe's talking points surrounded the commercialization of Native figures as team mascots. I happen to agree with Yellow Robe, but more importantly he illustrates the diversity of opinions amongst Native peoples. James Francis, historian of the Penobscot Nation, speaking last year at Colby College, said that the official stance of the nation is 'they don't really care.' What matters here is that because indigenous peoples are not mascots or costume, but cultures, they are made up of people of differing opinions. In a step towards decolonizing our minds, there must be an acknowledgement that indigenous cultures are not homogenous. In other words, not all Native peoples want the same things! Some care deeply about eliminating discriminatory team mascots while others are concerned about the trampling of environmental or land rights and, frankly, don't give shit about mascots (to paraphrase Francis).
Yellow Robe is what we might call "pro-contamination." As puts it, Native peoples have been contaminated by everyone: "We're even kosher!" His writing is infused with his perspective as an Afro-Native writers and with the idea that authenticity can be found in actions, not in federal papers or the way one dresses. Purity is a moot point in this case. In owning his emotions and writing about them, he validates himself and his identity. But he doesn't think his identity (or the identity of Native Americans generally) should be a point of novelty. As he tells it, numerous people have come up to him and touched his hair and his necklace and other wares. Another component of decolonizing our minds will be a rejection of exterior features as points of fascination, as something to marvel at and, by extension, eulogize. William Yellow Robe Jr. is not wearing his necklace or telling his stories to pay tribute to the past; like most indigenous writers, he's writing to say 'we're still here!'
While Yellow Robe's poetry concerned itself mainly with the loss of his first wife to cancer, the mere act of writing poetry (as well as being an accomplished playwright) signals his concern over indigenous peoples' ownership of emotions and storytelling. He gives his audiences a unique Native perspective and even when we're angry, disturbed, or saddened by what we hear and see on stage, we (especially non-Native people) need to pay attention. As Yellow Robe tells it, he might be angry and write about it, but if we have no problem asking a crying person why they're sad, then we need to ask angry people why they're angry. And Yellow Robe is angry, at least in print. He's not ranty, or spewing vitriolic negativisms as White people, but he is contesting both White and Native stereotypes and ethnocentrisms and as he said at dinner, it gets tiring to feel like he's saying the same thing over and over and wondering if anything is changing.
One of Yellow Robe's talking points surrounded the commercialization of Native figures as team mascots. I happen to agree with Yellow Robe, but more importantly he illustrates the diversity of opinions amongst Native peoples. James Francis, historian of the Penobscot Nation, speaking last year at Colby College, said that the official stance of the nation is 'they don't really care.' What matters here is that because indigenous peoples are not mascots or costume, but cultures, they are made up of people of differing opinions. In a step towards decolonizing our minds, there must be an acknowledgement that indigenous cultures are not homogenous. In other words, not all Native peoples want the same things! Some care deeply about eliminating discriminatory team mascots while others are concerned about the trampling of environmental or land rights and, frankly, don't give shit about mascots (to paraphrase Francis).
Yellow Robe is what we might call "pro-contamination." As puts it, Native peoples have been contaminated by everyone: "We're even kosher!" His writing is infused with his perspective as an Afro-Native writers and with the idea that authenticity can be found in actions, not in federal papers or the way one dresses. Purity is a moot point in this case. In owning his emotions and writing about them, he validates himself and his identity. But he doesn't think his identity (or the identity of Native Americans generally) should be a point of novelty. As he tells it, numerous people have come up to him and touched his hair and his necklace and other wares. Another component of decolonizing our minds will be a rejection of exterior features as points of fascination, as something to marvel at and, by extension, eulogize. William Yellow Robe Jr. is not wearing his necklace or telling his stories to pay tribute to the past; like most indigenous writers, he's writing to say 'we're still here!'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)