Response to Levithan

The first thing I noted about this article was that, among the criticism of “Boy Meets Boy” is that it’s considered too utopic. Unlike some authors who write about LGBT characters, Levithan doesn’t choose to focus on “agonizing over being closeted or coming out.” Instead, a lot of his characters are already out and are accepted by their families and friends. These kinds of narratives are just as, if not more, important than the closeted or coming out narratives because they humanize LGBT characters. They show readers that these characters are just normal people with concerns and issues outside of their sexuality. They show LGBT characters that they can be loved and accepted for who they are and that they’re allowed and encouraged to be comofortable with themselves and happy with their lives. Levithan’s books show that LGBT people can also be athletes and that they don’t have to fit a certain mold just because of their sexuality. The fact that “Boy Meets Boy” features more LGBT characters than non-LGBT characters is phenomenal and reflects how revolutionary it is to feature this underrepresented population.

So many books are banned or challenged for containing LGBT content. Many parents feel that these books force their beliefs on their children when, in fact, all the majority of them do is humanize LGBT people, which I don’t think should strike anyone as offensive. If anything, it’s these parents forcing their beliefs on their children and not allowing them to make up their own minds on the issue. Every underrepresented population deserves this kind of opportunity, to be depicted in a way that humanizes them to other people and to themselves.

Response to “The Comfort of Darkness”

Fraustino argues that young adult literature has always been dark and that authors like Cormier and Hinton pushed the envelope of what was acceptable for young people to read. While their novels, which could be considered precursors of the apocalpytic, dystopic YA novel, took place in the present, with their teen protagonists struggling against the demands of their challenging but by no means dystopic worlds, modern novels of the genre often feature protagonists faced with Herculean feats and much higher stakes. Fraustino argues that this is because people, including teens and young adults, are more aware than ever of the peril the world is under, from war to climate change, so that it’s not only their own domestic issues they’re facing but those of the world. This leads to a sense of uncertainty that can only be quelled by the sense of hope a dystopic YA novel features, where it suddenly becomes possible that one person, and a young one at that, can affect change and fix or maybe even save the world.

I agree that this is largely the appeal of dystopic YA novels. In a world saturated by media capturing every bleak moment the world has to offer, it’s become easier to see the world as being dystopic. And when these problems seem so mounting and irreversible, it’s seductive to read a book in which a world much worse than our own can be fixed by the sheer will and triumphs of a teenager. These novels justify teenagers’ fears of growing up while assuring them that they can and will come out on top.

This explanation relates to The Giver in many ways. Jonas’s world is arguably an extension of our own, one of constant surveillance and powerful governments; for many young readers, the community’s demanding sameness, the endless rules, and the grouping of people into categories must seem all too familiar. But Jonas is one young person who sees injustice and decides to take a stand; although the ending is ambiguous, we believe that Jonas’s world does change for the better because of his efforts. There’s also something seductive about a world with no hunger or warfare or pain, but young readers soon see the downfalls of such a system.

My First Book Memory: Stone Soup

One of the first books I ever remember reading was Stone Soup. Originally published in 1947 by Marcia Brown, it’s actually a much older French folk tale. The basic premise of the story is that a group of soldiers stop in a small village, looking for food and rest. However, the villagers, having heard that soldiers were approaching and afraid they had hardly enough food to feed themselves, hid all of their supplies. The soldiers go door-to-door, but all of the villagers tell them that they have no food to spare. So the soldiers devise a plan to stone soup.

Their interest piqued, the villagers fetch the soldiers a large pot, fill it with water, and set it to boil; then, following the soldiers’ orders, they fill the water with a multitude of stones. First the soldiers convince the villagers to part with a little salt and pepper, for the good of the soup’s flavor. They continue, lamenting the lack of carrots or cabbage, until the villagers, still wondering how one makes soup from stones, volunteer some of the ones they hid. The call and answer continues with meat and potatoes, barley and milk; the villagers all volunteer some of theirs and then marvel at the extravagant soup made from stones.

When the soup is complete, the villagers prepare a grand party, and they all celebrate well into the night.

I can’t recall the first time I read Stone Soup, but I remember how it invoked my imagination. The magic of picture books is that one feels like they’re there. I remember smelling the soup, tasting it, feeling like I was dancing with the villagers at the end of the night.

Now, what strikes about the story is always how old-world it is. The illustrations in Brown’s version are distinctly vintage; the only colors used are black, orange, and white, and the characters all look uniquely 20th century. It fills me with a sense of community. I’ve always believed that people are at their best when they’re suspending their disbelief. The villagers suspend their disbelief, and stone soup is made, not through magic but through generosity. By pooling together their resources, the villagers were able to improve all of their lives and be a little awed in the process. That’s what I’ve always believed is the very nature of a story.

Picture Book Essay Pick

I have selected “Why Mosquitos Buzz in People’s Ears,” the 1976 Caldecott winner, written by Verna Aardema and illustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon.

WMBIPE

I’m choosing this book because it’s one of the ones I can recall reading instantly, and that’s due to the images. The story’s images are so recognizable because of their intricacy; they feature cut-outs that lend a certain sense of depth. The book is visually compelling; the colors are incredibly vivid, and the images utilize negative space in a very interesting way.

Little Red Riding Hood and Into the Woods

I was actually surprised to find that so many people are better acquainted with the Perrault version of Little Red Riding Hood, compared to the Grimm version. Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods is actually the most vivid example of fairy tales told in a modern way, and the musical is very faithful to the Grimm brothers’ versions; having seen the 1991 version of the musical at an early age, it tends to be the first thing I pull from when considering fairy tales.

That being said, the sexual nature of the Little Red Riding Hood story is really rather explicit in Into the Woods. The wolf always looks more like a man than an animal, and Little Red Riding Hood is typically played by an actress in her mid-to-late teens. When the wolf first encounters Little Red Riding Hood in the woods, he sings “Hello Little Girl” to her, featuring lyrics like “Look at that flesh/Pink and plump/Hello, little girl/Tender and fresh/Not one lump/Hello, little girl.” The song is essentially a back and forth between the two, the wolf trying to convince her to stray from the path while the girl attempts to avoid temptation.

Afterwards, when the girl and her grandmother are saved by the Baker (in lieu of a Hunter), Little Red Riding Hood sings “I Know Things Now,” some of the lines of which are, “And he showed me things/Many beautiful things/That I hadn’t thought to explore” and “And he made me feel excited/Well, excited and scared.” What’s interesting is that Little Red Riding Hood is decidedly childlike for the rest of the musical; it’s only in her encounters with the wolf that she appears otherwise.

If you’ve never seen any of Into the Woods, I highly recommend watching at least the Little Red Riding Hood numbers. It really brings the Grimm version to life and definitely “washes the windows” as Tolkien would say.

 

 

“Hello Little Girl” 2014 version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNKQ06BBx_8

2014