Opinion Your Bookshelf May Be Part Of The Problem

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Your Bookshelf May Be Part Of The Problem

June 6, 2020 · 7:00 AM ET
JUAN VIDAL

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Marcus Ramberg

One of my favorite passages from Black Boy, Richard Wright's poetic and searing memoir, which turns 75 this year, goes like this:
I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of the hunger for life that gnaws in us all, to keep alive in our hearts a sense of the inexpressibly human.
Black Boy traces Wright's development from a troubled youth who encountered bigotry daily in the Jim Crow-era American South to a self-educated man whose reading shaped his understanding of society. I think about Wright's words often, these and others. Especially now, as cries from black men and women demanding agency reverberate across the nation and the world. It feels like the summer of our discontent is only just beginning.

Books, when people come to them early enough or at the right time, have the power to be transformative. And for a lot of readers, this is the right time — witness the many anti-racist book lists circulating on social media. We must recognize the inherent value that good literature has, and the ability of language to strike an emotional chord. But someone, at some point, has to get down to the business of reading — as Lauren Michele Jackson writes at Vulture. Simply handing someone a book cannot automatically make them care. This is something I remind myself whenever anti-racist lists start to make the rounds online.

Grown white men in their 40s — for example — cracking open James Baldwin or Toni Morrison for the first time, after cities are already ablaze, are not going to eradicate racism. It will not put an end to the systemic injustice that has plagued this country for more than 400 years. Still, I can't help but wonder whether some people have considered that, at a basic level, the homogeneous nature of their personal library — and what that represents — is a part of the problem.

You may have seen the phrase "decolonize your bookshelf" floating around. In essence, it is about actively resisting and casting aside the colonialist ideas of narrative, storytelling, and literature that have pervaded the American psyche for so long.

If you are white, take a moment to examine your bookshelf. What do you see? What books and authors have you allowed to influence your worldview, and how you process the issues of racism and prejudice toward the disenfranchised? Have you considered that, if you identify as white and read only the work of white authors, you are in some ways listening to an extension of your own voice on repeat? While the details and depth of experience may differ, white voices have dominated what has been considered canon for eons. That means non-white readers have had to process stories and historical events through a white author's lens. The problem goes deeper than that, anyway, considering that even now 76% of publishing professionals — the people you might call the gatekeepers — are white.

Reading broadly and with intention is how we counter dehumanization and demand visibility, effectively bridging the gap between what we read and how we might live in a more just and equitable society.

As a Latino, I've had non-Latino friends ask me to recommend Latin American authors and novels. This is fine, and welcomed. But if all I have to offer the curious-minded is literature that comes from people who look like me, speak my language, or come from where I come from, that's a problem.

Wright, in regards to his own self-education, later writes: "It was not a matter of believing or disbelieving what I read, but of feeling something new, of being affected by something that made the look of the world different." In that moment, he was referencing how he felt upon devouring H. L. Mencken's A Book of Prefaces, a book that helped Wright find new ways of looking and seeing.

You might say the same of those who only read the books they have written. Their knowledge of the world and of the systems at play will always be incomplete. This can apply to any form of media we take in, naturally, but especially the literature that non-black and brown people choose to consume. Anti-racist books will only do a person good if they silence themselves first and enter into the reading — provided they care enough to do so.

Juan Vidal is the author of Rap Dad: A Story of Family and the Subculture That Shaped a Generation. His writing has appeared in The New York Times, NPR, Rolling Stone, and elsewhere. He tweets at @itsjuanlove
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Me a nerd (autism style)? Well ok, but it's better than the woke SJW millenial women who have shelves full of Nora Roberts, Diana Gabaldon, and whoever the fuck writes the Sookie Stackhouse novels (that the TV show True Blood is based on) that they have to hide whenever anybody might show up at their 250 sq ft high rise cubbyhole apartment who could notice that, no, they really aren't True Woke Nonbinary Lesbians but secretly have a burning desire for hawt muscular he-men with giant duckz. And oh yeah, that lifted Chevy Suburban in the basement is to haul their friends around and not to serve as a surrogate boyfriend. I'm a fucking volcel anyway so I don't have to give a fuck about what anybody thinks about my book preferences, including what nanny-state book burners decree.
 
For the crazies on the internet, books are dangerous. Unlike almost every form of digital media that exists, there is nothing they can do to alter or destroy the content in a book.

A printed book can last hundreds of years as an immutable record. No matter how abhorrent the content, how outdated the knowledge or how politically incorrect it is, only destruction of the book will destroy the information it contains.

The modern internet is the opposite of this. Content can be modified, webpages deleted and inconvenient facts made to disappear. To the modern internet leftist, a book is the final platform that they cannot attack.

The Nazis solved the issue of inconvenient literature by burning it. These people don't have the option of force, so they'll try to shame us into doing it for them.
 
Look, I have no idea what you're on about, but my new goal is to get a Suburban into my basement, even if I have to bring it in disassembled and then reassemble it :lol:

It helps if the high end downtown apartment building you live in has a literal fucking car elevator so you can hydraulically lift your Suburban into and out of the basement. Believe it or not but in my city there really is a high rise apartment building for rich millenials downtown that opened a few months ago that has exactly that, a car elevator for parking. The builder is the silver-spoon daughter of one of downtown's biggest property owners, and she knows her market. Her building actually only has a small number of parking spaces compared to the number of units because rich millenial women use scooters and bicycles, but for those who do drive she built a parking garage that has a "smart" parking system that you drive your car into, get out, punch in a code, and it automatically parks your car for you. Pretty cool, actually.
 
It’s pretty fucking amazing of the article writer to say that no one is going to question their attitudes or historical knowledge after reading Toni Morrison, since one of the reasons she’s such a phenomenally widely read author is... exactly that.

It tells you more about the article writer than he realises that he thinks no one else was moved by Morrison’s work.

I suppose he didn’t feel he could come right out and scream “FUCK MAYA ANGELOU AMIRITE”
 
I had an English professor from India who told us that in order to understand literature you have to read books from all different kinds of people. We read black female authors. We read Latin Amercan authors. We read short stories from all sorts of cultures. This was totally non-condecending and presented in a way that fosters actually enjoying the works.

This was also years before #woke and everything being some form of -ist or -ism. I wish we could get back to the days of opening people up to different authors without telling them that they are racist for having too many white guys' names on their bookshelves. This is not how you promote diverse authors. If you try to guilt people into reading they are not going to get any enjoyment out of it.

The article auhor is probably the type of person who would only point out the internalized racism in The Bluest Eye and conveniently forget other important themes such as the rampant child sex abuse Peola endures that results in her giving birth to her father's child at the age of 12.

Peola is also described as being very ugly. She suffers bullying due to her looks from other black children and adults. Her poverty causes more wealthy black children and adults to look down on her severely and treat her violently. Most of Peola's suffering is due to her treatment by the black community. Her desire to have blue eyes and her obsession with Shirley Temple are not the only themes in the book. Peola never would have ended up the town headcase if her own people had treated her like a human being.
 
That sounds interesting. is there an english translation?



has anybody ever read a book written by a black person? can they write?
Victor Lavalle tries to write contemporary horror, but for him, and perhaps for his editors, blackness is such an integral part of every character and every story arch that it becomes this stiff, repetitive "teaching moment" as opposed to what we sign up for when starting a horror novel - a spoopy good time. Same goes for Toni Morrison- blunt, hyper dramatized, impossible to suspend disbelief due to her absolute hatred for "white" people. When the author is black, you are NEVER allowed to forget it. I prefer authors who weave a story that makes me forget there's an author.

These are the two most palatable figures in black fiction today.

Others are so exploitative and dreadful i refuse to name them.

Like most people, I don't care about any "black movement" or any other racial movement.

Figure out how to blend in, or deliver something new and exciting.

Or settle for an audience of twelve woke white people that listen to NPR and will never be honest about how shitty your work is.
 
Mallory Blackman's Noughts And Crosses series is actually pretty interesting. Good concept (black people organised rather than white), the whines about being black are kind of subtle and if anything, a black world is kind of worse than ours as they never decolonised.
 
Victor Lavalle tries to write contemporary horror, but for him, and perhaps for his editors, blackness is such an integral part of every character and every story arch that it becomes this stiff, repetitive "teaching moment" as opposed to what we sign up for when starting a horror novel - a spoopy good time. Same goes for Toni Morrison- blunt, hyper dramatized, impossible to suspend disbelief due to her absolute hatred for "white" people. When the author is black, you are NEVER allowed to forget it. I prefer authors who weave a story that makes me forget there's an author.

These are the two most palatable figures in black fiction today.

Others are so exploitative and dreadful i refuse to name them.
Sounds like the time I tried to read a fantasy by a black author.

Anytime an author spends time, even on the author description blurb, talking about their race, you can assume the book is going to be at least three levels of quality below what you expect from reading the summary.
 
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