So the Banning Begins... And the Idiots Speak

In all my years as a student, I was never aware of any controversy around banned books in my schools. Maybe I was lucky. Maybe I just didn’t know what was going on around me.

Now that I’m a parent with kids of my own in elementary and middle school – I’m appalled by the idea that there are small groups of adults who think they can control what every child in their community has access to in the library or classroom.

Appalled. Disappointed. Frightened. Sickened. Every year, these stories hit me anew and make me angrier and more frustrated than I was the year before. I think the fact that I’m a writer in addition to being a parent makes me that much more frustrated.

Laurie Halse Anderson, one of my favorite YA writers, has a post about how her award-winning novel Speak was called “soft core pornography” by a professor at Missouri State University.

A PROFESSOR. A man who has dedicated his life, supposedly, to learning. Yikes. Makes me nauseous.

Plus – if you’ve ever read Speak, you know that the idea that this man would categorize the main character’s rape (or any rape!) as pornography is simply disgusting.

I first encountered Speak not as a teenager, but as an adult in a class taught by author Lisa Klein about writing for young adults. It sparked conversation and discussion in our classroom about literature and how powerful it can be for the reader. We talked about how beautifully written Speak is, how well drawn the symbolism is, and how inspirational it is not only to writers, but – we were certain – to kids who read it and experience the moment when great stories touch your heart.

This book deals with issues and events that would not come up in daily classroom conversation. And for that alone, it is to be commended. Enabling our young people to confront violence of any kind, but especially violence against girls and women, is heroic on the part of the storyteller. Halse Anderson should be congratulated for allowing groups of kids to talk about the events in Speak.

Another book I’ve written about here on Carpe Keyboard, Sherman Alexie’s Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, has also been in the news as banned already this year.

Here’s the thing: I’m convinced that these people who make a big noise over banning books – any books, not just these two – are really out for something completely different. They are all about drawing attention to themselves, not about protecting anyone. And even more disturbing…I usually find that their comments expose the fact that they HAVEN’T EVEN READ THE BOOKS they are trying to ban in the name of morality and religion. And if they have read them, they certainly missed the point of the stories entirely.

Shame on them.

Since these bans usually come packaged up with religious indignation, I asked myself “What would Jesus do?” In the case of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak – the Jesus I know in my heart (and I believe in with all of my soul) would want to sit down with the readers and talk about her character’s pain. Feel her pain along with her. Because He would certainly understand that not only is the character in crisis, but that there are REAL GIRLS AND BOYS who are also in crisis and are alone in their suffering.

I’m sure in my heart of hearts that Jesus would NOT bury her story where no one could ever hear it. Where it would be ignored and her pain and the pain of others like her would go unnoticed and unrecognized.

If you haven’t read Speak or the Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, go get a copy. Read them in support of the kids who are being kept from the art. Being denied valuable literary experiences. And being “protected” by unreasonable control-freaks.

Speak out. Pay attention to what people are trying to do in your own community. And just as importantly – talk to your kids about what they are reading. Let conversation be the centerpiece at dinner or take the place of TV in your  living room. Read the books they like (or dislike) and talk about why. Great books teach great lessons. Stories help us learn and heal and explore events we hope to never experience in real life.  

Stories make us better people. But only if we allow each other the freedom to read them.

National Coalition Against Censorship

National Banned Books Week

The Three Musketeers of Voice: Alexie, Green and Levithan

One of the best things about reading a great story is sinking into it -- disappearing for a while, living with the characters and escaping from my own living, breathing, everyday reality. Moving into the world spoken by the narrator and…oh, yeah…written by the author.


Disagree? Nope. I didn’t think so.

This usually happens to me before I realize it. I find myself so deeply into the story that I feel like I want to call up the characters and hang out. Get a cup of coffee with them. Text them about Friday night plans. Borrow their favorite DVD. Sit up late at night and talk about God and love and sex and justice.

Or in the case of some of the stories for the middle grade set – maybe play ball or ride bikes until the streetlights blink on and we know we are going to be late getting home.

Although you know that I’m not a huge fan of “how to write books” books, I did find a helpful chapter on this mysterious effect in the Gotham Writers’ Workshop: Writing Fiction (Bloomsbury, 2003). Hardy Griffin contributed the chapter called Voice: The Sound of a Story. He defines voice as “what readers ‘hear’ in their heads when they’re reading. Voice is the ‘sound’ of the story.” I also liked this from his chapter – “…the voice of a piece is what makes it special, what sets it apart and makes it feel lived.”

I like that – the thing that makes a story feel lived. That, in my mind, is what pulls us in as readers.

I’ve lost myself in two novels recently – both YA – that are fan-freakin’-tastic examples of voice.

This week, I finished National Book Award Winner The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. (I tend to pick up anything with one of those glittery award stickers on the cover. Doesn’t even matter what it looks like, what it’s about, or who wrote it. I figure if it won an award that merits a glittery sticker, then I can learn from it!)

Junior’s voice is the narrator’s voice. This story is told from Junior’s point of view – and we alternately float on the current of his bravery and try desperately to keep our heads above the sadness and grief of his loss. There is no sinking into this story – it is all about the struggle. Ands sometimes about treading water until we catch our breath. Junior’s voice carries us along brilliantly. He is funny, self-deprecating, and above all – honest. I wanted him to break free of the struggles of the rez. But I also found myself rooting for him to return to his family with his whole self somehow intact, despite his sense of being sometimes half-Indian and other times half-white. And I cried when even he couldn’t, for the losses he endured.

How the heck can I hope to come up with a voice for my own characters as poignant and true as Junior’s? Sigh…

Another example that I keep within arm’s reach (face-out, believe it or not, on my bookshelf next to my official reading chair) is Will Grayson, Will Grayson by the inestimable John Green and David Levithan. (I don’t have an adjective for Mr. Levithan simply because I haven’t read enough of his work yet. Mr. Green, on the other hand, is my HERO. Go get any book he has written. And read it. Now.)

There are two Will Grayson’s in this book (surprised, aren’t you?) who have distinct, human, true voices – each unique, each so real you can’t help but want to either smack them for the real and stupid things they say or fist-bump-high-five-wahoo with them for the moments when they “get it.” When they find themselves despite the odds.

And don’t even get me started on the “massively fabulous” Tiny Cooper. He may be a supporting character, but he steals the story with his own personality, struggles and truth. In a word: his own voice.

I don’t think I can ever learn enough from writers like Alexie, Levithan, and Green – so I’ll keep hunting down their slots in the Borders book store shelves and doing a little jig of joy when I see a title I haven’t read before. And then I’ll try to learn from them – take some of their skill with voice and somehow reinterpret it into my own characters. Make my own voice heard, so a reader someday will sink into my stories, too.