Shameful submission

I'm also working my way through The Kite Runner - really. I know it's been the displayed book in "Northside Reading" for some time now, without me ever commenting on it here, so I thought the time might have come to do so.

I'm enjoying it. It's beautifully written and very moving, if a little tragic, and reminds me of the best aspects of Salman Rushdie, although he and Islam are not really the best of friends...Perhaps I'm just taking a bit of time to read it because it's for work - we're adding it to the Year 11 English course next year. It's also not the easiest read, being so emotionally draining.

What struck me about it most when reading it today was just how offensive most people find the idea of submission, particularly when enemies are submitted to. If you are attacked, you should fight back, right? So Amir, the main character believes, and is continually shamed by his servant/friend Hassan's willingness to stand up for him constantly, while never standing up for himself. When Amir witnesses a brutal assault performed against Hassan because of him, he is too gutless to defend the ever-loyal Hassan - and the knowledge of his cowardice shames him to the point that he cannot spend any time with Hassan without feeling sick.

In one particularly devastating scene, he starts pelting fruit at Hassan to try and make him fight back. Hassan refuses, and, in the end, takes a piece of fruit and hits himself with it, asking, "Are you happy now?"

Refusing to fight back doesn't protect Hassan from being brutalised, but it does make Amir burn in shame for his inability to stand up for Hassan. Interestingly, though, while Hassan may refuse to stand up for himself, he is unfailingly loyal to Amir. The only problem is that Amir does not return that loyalty. Perhaps it isn't enough for just Hassan to submit to others - perhaps we all need to do it. If everyone in the world was as loyal as Hassan, no-one would need to fight to protect themselves. We would all stand up for each others' rights.

It might be naive, but I like the sound of it. I'll be interested to see how the story ends.

Food for thought

I love books like this: bite-sized pieces designed perfectly for nibbling if you want a snack or easy to devour if you're hungry. And it's by Philip Yancey, which is a definite plus. I rarely disagree with him, and always value hearing his opinion. He's intelligent and thoughtful, and is able to take everyday life - zoos, his office aquarium, dirty jokes - as inspiration for insightful spiritual reflections. What's there not to like?

And, as a bonus, it was only $7.95.

My only complaint, so far? The cover art. The problem with buying a copy for $7.95 is that I got the original edition, not the new, revised one with the groovy cover displayed here. My copy has the Twelve Apostles on the cover - and I'm not talking about Matthew, John, Peter and company. I mean the twelve clichéd wonders of the Great Ocean Road. The result? The book looks much more mundane and uninspiring than it actually is. I've got nothing against the Twelve Apostles. They're beautiful, just a bit overdone, when photographed in hazy light or sunset.

I'm just wondering why Christian books almost always need to look boring and mass-produced?

In a manner of speaking

One of the hazards of being an English teacher is that you start seeing metaphors in everything you read; and, when you don't see any clearly, you start to worry, and deconstruct the book for hidden meaning.

I just finished reading the thoroughly enjoyable (although a little long-winded) Voices by the grand dame of fantasy, Ursula Le Guin. And, being a master of her craft, Ms Le Guin manages to give you a satisfying reading experience, while leaving it that little bit up-in-the-air, enough to make you want to read the third installment in the series, Powers, when it comes out later this year. And I'm sure I will read it, even though Voices wasn't quite as breathtaking as its pretty much perfect predecessor, Gifts. Let's hope Powers finishes the trilogy as magnificently as it began.

The issue for me was that, once at the end of Voices, I wasn't exactly sure what it was all supposed to express. Of course, I made my own thematic connections along the way, and the book made me think of a variety of things:
- The link between illiteracy and disempowerment
- The need for tolerance and understanding between people with differing worldviews and faiths
- The wonder and magic of reading
- The power of stories to move, motivate and transform
- Fear over an age in which books seem to be dying out
- A cry for the preservation of literature, poetry and culture, in an age that considers most things disposable
- A message about the power of diplomacy, coupled with a revolutionary, anti-establishment spirit (a potential contradiction, although not necessarily - maybe just a tension?).

All books contain messages, even if they are unknown to the author. All books communicate a worldview, and a set of ideals and values. Put together, these create a "message". Ursula Le Guin seems a little too focused on the otherworldliness and magic of a pagan, polytheistic worldview. It influences what could otherwise be quite a powerful political statement, or a call for tolerance. The only representation of monotheism in the book is a fundamentalist, dictatorial one, and I'm not at all comfortable with that. She's not necessarily talking about Christianity, but the "message", whether deliberate or not, is that paganism is beautiful and tolerant, while monotheism tries to squash all free thought.

It was also a bit hard to judge at the end if indeed, as the Alds (the conquering people) argued, demons did lurk in books. Spirits certainly did, although it seems subjective whether or not you call them demons. Perhaps Le Guin is making a point here about the power of the written word? And yet it isn't a power that anyone can tap - only those with the gift of "reading" the words of the oracles. Meaning? That again, you have a semi-ignorant people subject to those in the know. Not really as liberating as she's suggesting.

It almost spoils a book to think about it like this, I know. Aside from some overly complicated and slightly dreary "action" sequences, Voices was a terrific read. But it couldn't quite make up its mind about what it was trying to say about the world. No book can claim to be expressing nothing. And yet, Neil Gaiman's Stardust, which, compared to Le Guin, was fairy-floss (a metaphor that Gaiman would probably approve of), was potentially a more satisfying read, because it didn't set itself up as being half as "important" as Voices. I'm almost happier to accept questionable worldviews from books that don't purport to be About Big Issues. Voices couldn't decide what issues it wanted to be about, or what stance it would take on those issues, and I think that weakened it a little.

That said, though, I did have fun reading it, and that made a big difference.

Mightier than the sword

Voices (2006) is the second in Ursula Le Guin's new series "Annals of the Western Shore". The first in the series, Gifts, was the novel that first made me fall in love with Le Guin. I'd read a short story of hers while studying Arts and had enjoyed it, but it was Gifts that showed me what an amazing writer she continues to be, at this late stage of her career. It was also Gifts that made me start appreciating good fantasy, something I'd always considered to be a bit of an oxymoron.

Like all the best fantasy, Le Guin doesn't just take you into another world so that you can escape from reality into something more magical, although the worlds she creates are quite beautiful. More than that, Le Guin creates other worlds that ultimately express something about our own world.

The reference point that immediately springs to mind is Ray Bradbury's masterpiece, Fahrenheit 451, because here, as in Bradbury's novel, books are considered evil, subversive forces that the ruling powers have chosen to destroy. There are differences, however. In Voices, books are destroyed not by fire, but by being submerged in water. Le Guin writes that, for the Alds, the people in power, burning was a ritual signifying honour, something that books were certainly not worthy of. Also, books have been replaced with storytelling, a little similar to the "walls" in Fahrenheit 451 where life-like soap operas are played out. But for the Alds, the problem is not with stories, but with the written word, so storytellers are not suppressed. In fact, they are numerous.

Contemporary literacy theorists like Paolo Freire and Peter Freebody connect the ability to read the written word with the ability to interpret the world around you. Freire calls it "reading the word and reading the world". To apply this to Voices, listening seems passive, where reading is active, so hearing a story told probably does not hold the same subversive potential as reading one. Of course, hearing is passive, but listening actually involves quite a bit of activity. On the other hand, we can read without taking in the words, or thinking about their implications. The distinction isn't as meaningful as it might seem at first.

However, there does seem to be a distinct link, at least in books like Voices, between illiteracy and control. Societies where people cannot read are, for writers like Le Guin and Bradbury, societies that are under the thumb of the authorities. Perhaps in a post-Freebody age we should say that, whether reading or listening, people need to be able to think critically about the messages they are receiving, otherwise they will indeed be under the thumb of those promoting those messages.

Read any good books lately?

The idea for this new sub-blog dawned on me as I was falling asleep last night. I'd been reading the lovely Ursula Le Guin - her 2006 novel Voices - and was thinking about a post that I wanted to write on it, only to realise that, for people who are judging my reading by what is featured in the "Northside Reading" segment of my blog, there may be some confusion over what exactly I am reading right now.

Let me explain. I've always had a bit of a short attention span in reading books. I love reading, but don't always have the patience to focus exclusively on one book until I've finished it. I think this failing began to accentuate when I was completing my Honours year at University, and has probably only worsened since beginning full-time work. I read the books that I'm teaching, and then I have about twenty-five other books on the side that I dip in and out of. The result? Well, when I come to feature a book in "Northside Reading", I essentially have to choose which one of the many books I want to profess to be reading - and, well, when you put it like that, it sounds a tad insincere, as if I could say, "I'm reading Ulysses," when I haven't picked it up for months and am actually engrossed in Tom Clancy at the time. Which wouldn't ever be the case, because I hate Tom Clancy, but you get the idea.

So here was what I thought I could do. I could create a new blog devoted to what I'm reading at the time - anything that I'm reading, whether trendy, glamorous, intellectual, popular or mindless. It could be a place for honesty about my reading, instead of trying to pick one book to feature and then write some trite sentence-long comment that's supposed to sum up how I feel about it.

It might also encourage me to read more, and maybe finish some of those books that I've had on my shelf for months or, in some cases, years, only half-read. (Or maybe I'll just be wasting so much time blogging that I won't have time to read. Sounds a bit like people who spend so long on FaceBook that they don't have time for their friends.) Anyway, we'll see how it goes.