Last month at the Cambridge Public Library, I moderated a panel of five middle-grade writers brought to town by their publisher, Random House: Jeanne Birdsall, Bruce Coville, Alice Hoffman, R.
Last month at the Cambridge Public Library, I moderated a
panel of five middle-grade writers brought to town by their publisher, Random House: Jeanne Birdsall, Bruce Coville, Alice Hoffman, R. J. Palacio, and Rebecca Stead. The place was packed and the conversation lively.
With just a few minutes left for questions at the end of the program, I decreed they must come from middle graders, of which there were plenty in the audience. The first question, from a boy who looked to be ten or eleven, was for Palacio: why, he asked, were there no gay characters in
Wonder, her mega-bestseller about a boy with a disfigured face? “That’s a great question,” Palacio replied, and she proceeded to explain some of the strictures and conventions of middle-grade fiction before gracefully allowing that in fact it simply hadn’t occurred to her to make one or another of her characters identifiably gay.
There were a couple more questions after that, but I confess I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been, instead wondering why this boy had asked that question and whether or not I agreed it was a “great” one. I mean, yes, kudos for the progressive thinking, of course, but should
Wonder or any of the other novels featured that night have gayed things up a bit? Would that have made them better books, either aesthetically or ideologically?
The calls for cultural diversity and the inclusion of marginalized perspectives in books for youth are these days more intense and pervasive than I have ever seen. At last! But I don’t think much will be accomplished by sprinkling diversity into stories as if one were selecting candy bits and toppings at the ice-cream parlor. I’ve written in this space before (see the
January/February 2015 Horn Book editorial, “Why #WNDB”) about the problem of including characters who “just happen” to be something-or-other by authors who — generally — “just happen”
not to be whatever add-in they’re using to decorate their stories. If you, straight author, feel compelled to add a baby gay into your story because a baby gay fits into the story you’re trying to tell, by all means. But once it’s being done simply to check off a diversity box, things start looking homogenous in a whole different way. Nobody’s identity is that casual, and we are none of us rainbow sprinkles.
As the fierce (and cheekily named) new blog Reading While White (
readingwhilewhite.blogspot.com) points out, handwringing about the inclusion of diverse characters is largely limited to white writers. While nonwhite and otherwise Other writers just want a chance to publish their stories — diverse by definition alone — white writers worry about accusations of tokenism, cultural misappropriation, and simple cluelessness when venturing to tell a story not their own. Or, “being a part of the problem” if they stick to what they know.
I don’t think
Wonder suffers for its lack of gay characters. It has plenty on its plate already, but, more important, we can’t expect all books to be all things to all people. Honestly: if you’re spending more time worrying about swelling your character count with desirable statistics or getting your “authenticity” verified than you are in simply being true to your story, maybe you’re writing the wrong book. And if authors of all stripes worried less about what they thought the world needed to hear and instead focused on what they had to say, we’d all be better off.
From the November/December 2015 issue of The Horn Book Magazine.
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Kimbra Power
Thanks Roxanne for sharing your post, http://fairrosa.com/2015/11/03/can-we-talk-of-solutions-regarding-diversifying-childrens-literature/ a great read, adding to the discussion, not detracting from the issues. Thank YouPosted : Nov 06, 2015 05:42
Elizabeth
As a white woman who identifies as asexual/ambisexual and has a best friend who identifies as a gay male, and as a published writer and YA librarian, I have so, so many feelings about this. As a librarian: Should every person be able to find their mirror in my collection? If I had infinite space and money, I would buy every book that ever got a good review, or even every book ever. But here in this world where the roof leaks and books need to be replaced and the public is divided over whether we need more space than we have or need this space at all--my first duty is to serve MY patrons, where they are, here, always. That means I buy white and Christian and Jewish and Muslim and LGBT and Asian, but stay away from the gritty street lit because it just doesn't go anywhere and we don't have the space for books that don't circ. And then I watch the holds and what the teens are saying and cater to that. Case in point, I just bought a book that I read and thought was terrible, which got less-than-stellar reviews, because it had a long list. It's what the patrons want and my first duty is to serve them, regardless of my opinion. I have a very firm belief that librarians are the curators of information--we may not have it or know where it is exactly, but we know where to find it and how to get access. If a person comes in and wants that gritty street book that I didn't buy, I can and will find it for them. And I think it's really important that we let our patrons know that the library is a safe space where all opinions are welcome and any questions will be answered with care and attention and dignity. I like to think that my teens know that they can ask me any question or for any book without being judged and that I will bend over backwards to find them what they need. I sneak as many diverse books as I can into all of my bibs and displays, but I don't trumpet the fact--the patrons will find them without me saying so. As a reader: I love reading books that teach me things, whether it's the hidden history of a piece of music or how to make a spectacular chocolate cake or about how they celebrate holidays in other cultures. But above all, I love good stories with well-developed characters and nothing infuriates me more than token characters who are obviously only there as a trope or a plot device. I think R.J. Palacio is completely right--how do we KNOW that one of the characters in Wonder is not gay? I've read study after study after study that says kids are identifying LGBT earlier and earlier, sometimes even by age ten, but there's nothing to stop a reader, any reader, from having any headcanon they want about a story. So if you want, Auggie could grow up to be gay and get together with Julian, or whatever--in your head--even if the author didn't write it that way. And I can't say enough about how much I hate characters who aren't fleshed out, who exist solely as tropes or plot devices. I read a book not long ago where the token gay kid had no other storyline than that he was gay and also the captain of the rugby team--it felt like he was just there to prove that stereotypes can be broken. And then, as if the author knew he needed to wrap things up for his token gay kid but had no idea how to do so, the gay kid suddenly died in a vicious hate crime ten pages from the end of an otherwise hilarious and heartwarming book. It felt awkward and tacked on, and made me so angry. That author is my least-favorite ever, just because of that. As a writer: There's only so much characterization that can fit in a story before it becomes a case of telling and not showing and thus becomes painful to write and even more painful to read. You have to decide when you're writing how much you're going to show/tell the reader and what's going to be left for the reader to decide. When I was writing a short story that was later published, I filled my head with research on pre-Revolutionary Russia, on WWII and concentration camps and resistance movements and ballet. I did my very best to be as close to real as I could, but when you're writing, there's a balance between just enough and too much and that's a really fine line to walk. There happens to be a gay character in my story, but the fact that he is/was gay didn't fit into the storyline itself. It may, in the prequel or the sequel, become more important and thus be written in. It wasn't important enough to the first story, so I left it out, just like I left out the fact that his shoes (size nine and a half, brown and scuffed) are perpetually untied. I know that about the character, but the reader doesn't need to know. It's not important to the story at that point in that character's life. Also, as a writer (or maybe just too nice of a person in general): I don't think any self-respecting author actually sets out to be insensitive or convey wrong information. Even the people who write propaganda are sure they're getting the facts right, or they're conveying the facts as they see them. And how dare ANYONE tell me what story I can or cannot write based on my skin color, religion, or orientation? Isn't that, in and of itself, a form of discrimination? E. Lockhart/Emily Jenkins is a class act for donating her fees, though.Posted : Nov 04, 2015 07:05
Anna Kang
Well said, Roxanne. Thank you for your blog post.Posted : Nov 03, 2015 07:05
Roger Sutton
Allie (Allie Jane?), you have it exactly right. Years ago I asked former SLJ editor in chief Lillian Gerhardt how she came up with her editorials (powerful and famously combative) and she said "Oh, I read the newspaper every day and get cranky about things." I heard that boy's question (and I don't agree with Meg's implication that he was coached) and it set my little brain turning. When I read your post on RWW, it turned some more. To those who think I demonstrate a lack of respect for that boy and/or his question, I say that the best way to respect a child (and a child's question) is to treat him or her as an equal, and I feel like I did that. Dave, I think the way diverse viewpoints in books increase is by people reading books and/or following discussions like these (but mostly by reading books!) and saying "wait a minute. Where am *I*? and, hopefully, following through to tell their stories. What we--that is, we non-writers--can do is make sure there is room for those stories to be heard and a support structure to allow them to be told.Posted : Nov 03, 2015 03:13
Mike Jung
Roxane, that is a terrific, substantial post.Posted : Nov 03, 2015 02:54