Banned Books Week

Ask a group of writers how they feel about banning books and you are going to get a quick answer. Book banning is bad. It is wrong. It should be forbidden! And that’s no big surprise since book banning is censorship which writers, not surprisingly, are against.

Usually.

Yes, usually.

This week is Banned Books Week. For those of you who haven’t taken part in a Banned Books Week event, it is a celebration of the Freedom to Read. It is organized by a coalition of organizations ranging from The American Library Association, The Authors Guild, and the Index on Censorship. During this week, librarians, teachers and authors work to raise awareness about the dangers of book banning as well as awareness of what types of books get banned. They range from silly books like Captain Underpants to serious fiction like To Kill a Mockingbird. You can see the video about the most banned books of 2017 here. 

One of the books that you’ll see there is one that I’ve written about in the past because I adored this book when I read it – Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. The book tends to get banned because the young male characters are young males. They swear. They discuss sex even though they are 99% clueless. Teachers have loved the book because it is an accurate depiction of life for modern first nation people.

But there are discussions, as seen in Shelf Awareness for Readers, about removing this book from classrooms, libraries and bookstores. Long story short, harassment allegations were made against Alexie this summer. 

On one hand, some people say that we should disassociate the art from the artist. Young readers should have access to books that speak to them. They need to see characters who are different from themselves.  Banning books is bad.  Banning any books for any reason is a slippery slope.

On the other hand, people say that continuing to print, sell and buy the book is the same as making excuses for a predator and devaluing the victim. These books should not be available.  They never use the word banning, but if you aren't going to shelve, check out, or sell a book, I'm not sure what else to call it.

Personally it seems like a no win situation, the sort of thing you'd explore in a novel.

--SueBE

To find out more about Sue Bradford Edwards' writing, visit her blog, One Writer's Journey.  Sue is also the instructor for Writing Nonfiction for Children and Young Adults. The next session begins November 12th, 2018.

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6 comments Banned Books Week, book banning, censorship, Jory Sherman, Sue Bradford Edwards

It doesn't end well (but there's hope)

I'm going to preface this post by disclosing the fact that I've been to four weddings this year, including my daughter's. All were lovely. The last one took place at a large church not too far from my house, and the sign announcing the week's sermon read "The beginning of the end."

T. S. Eliot wrote "our beginnings never know our ends." Although true, the sign made me think about the two young people beginning their lives together. So does that mean the beginning of the end of freedom, or the beginning of the end of solitude and loneliness? Honestly, there is probably some of both.

Because we already know how it ends for all of us in the real world, should we care how a book or movie ends? Why is the "Happily ever after" ending so pervasive? I tried to think of books and movies that have a pessimistic ending, and George Orwell's classic 1984 popped up. Winston met a dark end, and submits.

He loved Big Brother.

But most offer a more complex mixture of emotions. One of my favorite books, The Ballad of Pinewood Lake by Jory Sherman, has a dreary ending, but in the last three short sentences, offers a glimmer of hope.

I was afraid of drowning,
But I drowned anyway.
We get what we want, all right, but we get what we fear, too.
I learned that much. And something else, too.
Don't be afraid. Of anything.
Ever.

Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms also features an ending that can be interpreted with a bit of hope. In literature, rain can represent a washing away of the the past, and within the sadness of loss lies the smallest hint of a new future, a fresh start.

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

Movies about the worst events in history can end on a hopeful note, including Schindler's List. And although the world is not portrayed as a happy place, dystopian novels may end with someone walking through a devastated landscape. And that one person equals life, and life means hope.

As we prepare for year's end, we may be resigned to the fact that we didn't accomplish all our goals, and people we love may not be with us anymore. But at the end of this year lies another. So we begin again. Maybe that's why we like our books and movies sprinkled with a little bit of hope on top of the pessimism. Because we also begin again.

Mary Horner's short story, Shirley and the apricot tree, was recently published in Kansas City Voices. She teaches communications at St. Louis and St. Charles Community Colleges.

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4 comments 1984, A Farewell to Arms, Big Brother, George Orwell, Hemingway, hope, It doesn't end well, Jory Sherman, pessimism, Schindler's List, T. S. Eliot, The Ballad of Pinewood Lake