Tayari's Blog: Slate Comes Clean

Comment #1, by persistence

As a writer and student of literary studies, I aspire to a level of excellence in my writing that will garner the respect and admiration of all people. Unfortunately, the experience that we write about as African American women is not valued in our society, which is overwhelmingly western and grotesquely European, in spite of its vain attempts at passing itself off as a "melting pot". As Barbara Christian points out in an essay regarding the literary biography of Paule Marshall, she explains how Marshall’s book, 'Browngirl, Brownstones' was being used as a book for juveniles (as well as Morrison’s 'Bluest Eye'), and that “misrepresentation of both of these books seemed to do with an inability on the part of publishing houses, journals, the literary establishment, to see the Bildungsroman of a black woman as having as much human and literary value as, say, D.H. Lawrence’s 'Sons and Lovers' or James Joyce’s 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man'.” Christian wrote this essay in 1982, but it is still pertinent regarding black women writers in 2006, even Toni Morrison.

I respect and enjoy literature from different cultural experiences, and I want to be able to live up to the standards that are considered canonical. I don’t want to think of my art as being simply a part of a literary subculture, which is unimportant to the larger literary community. But as a writer who is black and female, I’m coming to realize that I can’t always judge my own work, nor the work of those I hold in high literary esteem, by western standards. In 'Signifying Monkey', by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., he suggests demystifying “the curious notion that theory is the province of the Western tradition, something alien or removed from a so-called non-canonical tradition such as that of the Afro-American.” And, as such we must “identify” and develop a theory of criticism that “informs the shape of the Afro-American literary tradition.” In other words, we have to create and promote our own canon based on a standard that embodies our traditions, spirituality and intellect.

We may never be truly great writers by their standards. But, that should be okay, because we should have standards of our own whether we win prizes, make a lot of money, or top their book lists. We must create our art with conviction, and trust that our standards are of a higher authority.

Comment #2, by Michael Fischer

WOW. That was unbelivable. I'm sorry, but I didn't last much longer than anyone else. I too switched it off--to borrow Ed's quote of him--when Metcalf said, "what amazes me about that preface is how Morrison’s own words there condense my ill feelings toward the book so beautifully.” WTF?!

As a teacher I've had 18 year old white students act "surprised" that they enjoyed a novel or short story collection by an African-American fiction writer, but I never expected to hear such garbage from so-called "literary critics." Guess I'm naive.

The reason is that the broadcast started with the panelists "airing (their) prejudices about the book."

By the time the third panelist confessed that she figured that all the kudos given Toni Morrison must be due do some sort of political correctness, I had to switch it off. I wish I had switched it off before the man on the panel said he assumed that she was given the Nobel Prize because of "race and class reparations." It was just TOO MUCH.

Will somebody go listen to the rest of the broadcast (I just can't!) and see if they realise how racist it is to assume that a work by an African American woman author must suck? It's a crazy paradox, I must say. The panelists seemed to take her success as further proof that her writing must be terrible. My question for those of you who care to ponder the imponderable-- if the markers that are usually thought to suggest quality (like prizes, NOBEL prizes even) suggest to a certain segment of the population that affirmative action is run amok, then by what means can an African American author acheive a status under which she assumed to be a good writer?

Comment #3, by Michael Fischer

*Ah, sorry for re-pasting T's last three paragraphs!

Comment #4, by saragran

Hi Tayari,

I don't know if you read metcalf's long "review" of beloved, here (http://www.slate.com/id/2141971/)--it's so vile and offensive I can't believe he still has a job. It seems to me that just a few years ago this kind of thing wouldn't be tolerated--now it's developed from a review to a podcast.

Oy.

xxoo

Sara

Comment #5, by lglabor

Me, I can't imagine how John Updike (for one of about a zillion possible examples of un-great white writers) would ever get accolades if he weren't a middle-class white man writing about (and for?) same. Not only do commentators like those referred to here refuse to recognize the greatness of writers of color--but they concoct greatness for decidedly ungreat white ones. Yecch.

Comment #6, by Jackie

C'mon People, get a grip. Free speech is alive and well in America. People can say whatever they want and in this country it sparks lively debate and not beheading. What Spelman taught me is how to tune out what others think because there will always be those that don't like us, or don't like something, or whatever. How they feel in no way determines my worth or the worth of the people I admire and respect.

And don't for one minute think that racism rolls in just one direction.

Now, having said that, let me stroll over to that website and see what all the fuss is about.

Comment #7, by Jackie

OK, Tayari go back and listen to the rest of the interview. They mostly liked the book and had a very esoteric discussion of it that was quite impressive. The man didn't get it, the women did. As I listened to him wax and wane about slavery I began to see that an entity that has never known bondage would be baffled by the particulars of slavery. Sure, he was picky and granular, but hey, it's his opinion. He represents an uncomfortablly large segment of the population.

So here is how I learned to tolerate different opinions: twenty years ago I started listening to conservative talk radio. At first I kept turning off the radio and shouting back at it. I dismissed those people as nut jobs. Then slowly I became able to listen to another's opinion, one I didn't agree with, all the way to the end, to follow the path of the mind. I don't have to agree, but if I want to be heard, I, too, must listen.

After thirty minutes of the podcast I had to bow out because it's past my bedtime. I will try again tomorrow to hear the entire interview. I urge you to go back and hear them out.

Comment #8, by bryn c

Oh, dear. I'm afraid I couldn't hang on and listen. I had to cut it off when a panelist compared Morrison's language play to Faulkner and said it was off-putting because the panelist "was,like, wait a minute, you (Morrison) aren't as good as Faulkner." Meanwhile, they didn't even bother to find out the right pronunciation of Sethe ("Seeth-a, we think it is.)

It's true that people have a right to their opinions, but it becomes more troubling if they hold themselves up as "literary critics," a guise of credibility, rightful or not, that can set a tone of public opinion. Of course, free speech applies to dissenters, too -- it's my right to talk back (and in cases I consider offensive, my obligation).

Most problematic for me was the way the panel set up the discussion of the book with an "airing of prejudices." Did they do this in past discussions, on books by, say, Roth or Irving? I'm gonna go out on a limb and say no. As Tayari pointed out, this framework (and the hackle-raising comments) not only highlight but perpetuate a systemic problem of how Black women author's works often are viewed.

It's true, too, that this certain segment isn't the only segment. Many, many readers come to Morrison and myriad writers of color with huge admiration for the work on the page, and value these works as part of a large, rich canon. I know this segment may be overshadowed (overshouted?) by others, and I know it's never that simple, but I'm rooting for growth.

Comment #9, by Teri E-B

i, too, could not stomach listening past the mispronunciation of sethe's name. i agree that free speech is a two-way street. but their was a dismissive air about these so-called critics that was palpable from the first syllable of their 'clever' repartee.

i can't agree, quite yet, that racism rolls both ways as it relates to african-americans. until there is balance in power, in my mind...there is only a dead-end that colored people, especially american born descendents of slaves, will endure.

and my intolerance for the opinions of people like these critics is a means that is necessary. if they were critiquing the book's success on its literary merits alone, that would be one thing...but to devalue her work and her honors related to her work because she happens to be a woman of color is a whole other issue. that's where the earrings come off...so to speak.

anyway, that's my two cents...

atl-teri

Comment #10, by Jackie

I gotta say it. Again. Racism rolls both ways. Every time we send on a blonde/Jewish/Polish/Christian joke, what are we doing? Calling it "just funning?" A race degraded, no matter the race, is wrong. For us, its a guilty pleasure. Just don't think that because you are black you aren't guilty of degrading others and then call it fair because you think you are powerless. Racism is never fair. It hurts whether it is intended to or not. For that brief moment that any of us attack another for something like the color of our skin, the way we worship, the place where we were born, is a moment we feel a misguided power over others. Wrong is wrong, no matter if you are the victim or the perpetrator.

Is is possible that the reviewers were the first people to stumble over the name Sethe? Are you saying skin color is responsible for the problematic pronunciation? It's been a long time since I read Beloved, but most likely I, too, paused to consider the correct pronunciation. Somehow I must have reconciled it and moved on.

I am not trying to be contentious here. I am saying if we want to be heard, we have to be willing to listen. All the way through.