August 10
2009
In the midst of the Liar cover controversy there was much talk about recommending books by minority authors and/or featuring minority characters. All of this was good conversation as it was apparent from many comments to the posts across the web on the cover that a lot of (apparently Caucasian) people associated a black face as a book about "other" and consequently passed it by. I honestly did not realize that so many people judged books by covers on this level - I will pick up a book with an interesting cover faster than one with a bland one, but the skin color or ethnicity of the cover models has little to nothing to do with that choice. Boing Boing actually had several comments that contained virtually the same message over and over and really blew my mind; first, "I am not a racist' then second, "but I only want to read books with characters I have something in common with so I don't buy books with Black characters".
Huh.
The message here is that skin color is the primary and indeed basically the only test for commonality. Thus if you are Caucasian you would not read a book about an African American even if the character was from your hometown, was your same general age, attended your high school and shares your socioeconomic status. All other things being equal - all other things - the color still means you won't read it.
This sort of thing drives me insane.
What's interesting though, is that really it's not true about anything else. Excluding obvious racists, everyone listens to music without checking first for the color of the singer or the songwriter. We watch movies with minority actors and actresses and cheer on Will Smith or Denzel Washington as loudly as Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt. Hallie Berry, Selma Hayek and Angelina Jolie? Yep, love them all. And I think the success of the Cosby Show proved that any quintessential American family will get people to watch television. How many minority police detectives/forensic experts/coroners/etc are there are on tv today? Does anyone care? Nope - we just watch them.
So, it's a book thing, and not an entertainment thing. Except - that's not really true either.
When it comes to mysteries, Walter Mosley seems to do just fine as do other series focused on minority characters or written by POC. In mysteries it really does seem to be more about the plot then about the author and as long as the character solves the crime, it doesn't matter what color (or gender) he or she is. Heck mystery readers will read about problem solving animals - they are wide open to anything as long as the plot is snappy and smart. So how come no one balks so much in that section but you drop them into romance, SFF or literature and suddenly it's all about race? What the hell happens when you cross the aisles?
I've been thinking about all of this a lot and about how we need to work to change it. I've also been thinking about the spate of recommendations for minority reading that came out of the Liar debacle and how they illustrate another problem. For example Justine Larbalestier, Liar's author, made two recommendations in the PW article last week unveiling the new Liar cover. As awesome as I think Justine is, I think she fell into a bit of a trap with those recs. Here they are:
“I'm seeing signs that publishers are talking about these issues, and I’m more hopeful for change than I have been in a long time,” said Larbalestier. “However, we consumers have to play our part too. If you’ve never bought a book with someone who isn’t white on the cover go do so now. Start buying and reading books by people of color.” A few of her recommendations: Coe Booth’s Kendra and M. Sindy Felin’s Touching Snow.
Okay, picture you are a Caucasian parent who has never bought her child a book with minority characters or even really read many yourself. You're all whitebread, through and through. So you read the article, and you go to amazon and you read the first description for Kendra, the SLJ review:
Growing up with her grandmother in Bronxwood, 14-year-old Kendra Williamson is waiting for Renée, her 28-year-old mom, to finish school so they can get their own place. Kendra can't help but feel abandoned when her mother gets her PhD at Princeton and then moves to a studio apartment in Harlem, once again leaving her daughter behind. When her grandmother's restrictive rules, her crush's physical attention, and her friend's self-absorption become overwhelming, Kendra gets her chance to live with her mother and learn whether Renée can be a true parent. Booth has a talent for emotional honesty. When Kendra confronts her mother about her previous choices and learns that, if she could change the past, she would not keep Kendra, the feelings of abandonment and betrayal radiate from the page. The convoluted but redeeming friendship between Kendra and her best friend and aunt, Adonna, resonates with heartbreak and honesty. Teens will appreciate Kendra's internal justification monologues, especially in relation to her Nana; Booth balances that self-examination with street fights to further engage her audience. Adults act as fully realized characters, serving as disciplinarians and mentors, not moralizing preachers. Kendra's quick acquiescence to anal sex seems to be too fast, though this and all other sex scenes are neither graphic nor gratuitous. From Bronx blocks to Harlem hangouts, Booth delivers dynamic characters and an engaging story.
Abandonment by mother, raised by grandmother, street fights, Harlem and not just sex but anal sex. Sweet Jesus. Every reason you don't read books by minority authors was justified right then and there. Those people live differently then we do, you think. My daughter does not need to know anything about this. But wait, there's more. Here's the first description for Sindy Felin's Touching Snow - the other book Justine recommended (also from SLJ):
To those back in Haiti, "touching snow" means living in America. For seventh-grader Karina, however, life in suburban Chestnut Valley, NY, is far from easy. Her extended family struggles to survive in a world in which they are social and cultural outsiders, where food and shelter are still uncertain, and where a visit from the authorities can mean deportation to a much more desperate homeland. For Karina, though, the biggest threat is within her family. Her stepfather uses brutal force to dominate his wife and stepdaughters. While Karina nurtures dreams of education and connects with caring people who might help her, she is held back by a man who sees his shaky power diminished by any sign of the girls' independence. As Karina and her sisters mature, this conflict escalates to a terrible scale. The author writes with insight about the realities of immigrant life, Haitian American culture, and the double worlds inhabited by many first-generation Americans like Karina. Readers can see the compromises that family members make in the name of survival and the stresses that drive the stepfather's rage, while still holding to the truth that these girls and their mother deserve a life without violence. Although the resolution is brutal, this story is a compelling read from an important and much-needed new voice. Readers will cheer for the young narrator who is determined to step out of the role of victim and build a safe and meaningful life for herself and her family.
And now we have domestic violence and spousal abuse to add to the mix. And it's about Haitians, the most maligned African American immigrant population in the country. Home to one of the poorest most screwed up governments in the world. Synonymous with dysfunction. Of course the father (not the biological father we note) beats the wife and kids. That is what those people do.
So, based on those two recs in PW we see that minority fiction is apparently about very very screwed up people. That doesn't meant these books aren't good (Coe Booth in particular is an amazing writer) nor does it mean that books about Caucasian characters are always rosy (please) but the two books are extreme examples of "problem novels". They are about screwed up families and not at all symptomatic of minority titles or minority lives. They are a subset of the YA genre that has been around forever but why are books like these the ones we put on a silver platter as "minority books"? Why don't we take a moment and pause when asked to recommend a title by a minority author about minority characters and ask another question in response. Why don't we ask:
What kind of books do you like to read?
There. Ask the reader what they want. Even if you are recommending YA titles specifically, ask them if they like mysteries, romance, fantasy, SF, family drama, comedy, war books and on and on. If someone wants a gritty coming-of-age story then both Kendra and Touching Snow would apply. But if they want a buddy novel about teenage boys then these will not work - go with Charles R. Smith's Chameleon or Micol Ostow's So Punk Rock. Want a coming-of-age that has a bit of comedy as well? Well, Sherman Alexie's Absolutely True Story of a Part Time Indian has sad moments, but is very funny also, as is Tanita Davis's Mare's War (which also works for historic drama due to its two plot lines). For very funny contemporary coming-of-age then please go to Justine Chen Headley's Nothing but the Truth and a Few White Lies. Like war books? Look no further than Walter Dean Myers's Sunset Over Fallujah (and for teen boys in particular many of his books should be recommended). Historic drama also includes the wonderful Flygirl by Sherry Smith or, with a SF twist, Zetta Elliot's A Wish After Midnight. I could, quite frankly, go on and on and my answers will not be the same as someone else's, just as they would be different for books with Caucasian protagonists. But just throwing out two books by Black authors with Black characters as a starting point for minority reading is self-defeating because the odds are too great your are going to get it wrong. It also suggests that all minority books fit in one category, something PW knows is not true.
If we want to fully integrate publishing - if we want to make bookstores places that only have an African American section in the context of history (as they do so many other ethnic groups regardless of skin color), then we need to depart from the impression that minority books can ever be lumped together. They are as diverse and unusual and unique as the genres they are written for. They belong on shelves throughout the bookstore and library and they will appeal to readers looking for specific stories or circumstance or setting. It can not be about something as basic as "go read a minority book" - it needs to be read a good book on a topic you're interested in, regardless of the color of anyone involved.
That's how we end segregation in publishing and that's what we need to be doing.
[I want to note that I am not denigrating efforts to publicize minority books through blogs - that's specializing just as bloggers specialize by genre/geography/age/gender/sexuality/etc. And that's fine.]


![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.chasingray.com/nav-commenters.gif)






August 9
2009
06:49 PM
Colleen,
I hear you. Why the pause when it comes to books? And I have the same concern about recommending books by people of color. On more than one occasion I have said to Caucasian readers, tell me what you like and I can recommend a book in the genre by a person of color. I don't randomly recommend books to girls who come into the library or my blog. You need to ask a few questions. I always find blanket requests for book recommendations odd. How do I know what you would like without knowing what you've read and what your interests are?
Ask me how many times Caucasian readers assume that I read street lit or black romance.If you want to know about those books, you'll have to ask someone who reads them.
There was one mother, Christine in the discussion at Justine's who said publishers and marketers don't get her daughters at all. AA readers are tired of being offered the same limited books by poc writers. She said her girls want more than historical fiction, oppressive stories, ghetto stories and slave narratives. She's middle class, educated with voracious readers. They like sci-fi, chick lit, adventure and fantasy, too. They read all writers who write a good story. Sometimes it'd be nice to have characters in these stories who look like them.
I'm black. I grew up in Detroit. I grew up in the hood not the ghetto (there's a difference). I had two parents. I'm educated. I don't watch Tyler Perry movies and I wasn't a teen mom.
I've had to back up because too many readers insist to reducing a myriad of issues to simplistic either/or's and one answer-fits-all solutions. And that doesn't serve any of us.
And let me close by adding that greater understanding and broadening our reading habits needs to be two-way. I spend a fair amount of time in black spaces calling for black readers and bloggers to leave their bubbles and to color up the blogsophere. POC readers and writers need to take their books on the road. Let readers know who they are and what they're writing. Without fail, every week I post my 'In My Mailbox' featuring new books I received, readers say, "I never heard of that." That's why I participate in the meme so they can learn about books they never heard of.