There's some kind of trend involving, I sense, a growing appreciation for Young Adult and children's literature amongst the generally-literate folks that I tend to interact with or am aware of. This, I presume, has to do with the fact that people our age are getting slightly older and, like, having kids, or something, so therefore children's things--which are often simultaneously marketed to parents--are attempting to appeal to people who are similar to me (except that they have children). Or, slightly less cynically, creative people that came up in the same zeitgeist as me are now finding success in the culture industry, and making things that are of a similar sensibility to my own.
Which isn't to say that I do all that much consuming of youth culture. In fact, I don't really partake of any of it. Except for stuff that Nick turns me on to. Things like Avatar: The Last Airbender. Would I have been aware of the fact that Nickelodeon had made a cartoon show that was pretty good? Probably. Would I have watched it? Probably not. But, luckily, Nick had the foresight to get me to actually watch the show, and I quite enjoyed it. Not enough to read up or argue about its mythology, or to go to any comic-cons dressed up as a character or anything, but was happily watched all three seasons (and happily skipped the movie when it came out). Which brings us to this week's entry in the I Know What You Bookclubbed Last Summer Booklove Bookclub: Gene Luen Yang's American Born Chinese.
There is some embossed gold foil circle stamped onto the front cover of my paperback copy of this graphic novel, so I knew, even before opening it, that it must be good (it won a Young Adult Literature Prize from the ALA). Which is also nice to know ahead of time, when you've gotten a recommendation from Nick--that other people also think it's good, and it's not just another Irish Jam (not to use the same example as last week, but I've honestly blanked on any of Nick's dud recommendations (and in fact, am mostly now thinking of him giving me Casanova, which I think I might even like more than he does, so I'll let this runner die out (and start picking on Molly instead))).
And ABC is quite good. A little bit of it was kind of off-putting to me (more on that in a minute), but it does exemplify what I think must be the appeal of much YA literature, as read by actual adults (people, you know, like me, in their late twenties):
--a semi-complicated structure which then resolves itself quickly and neatly
The back-cover copy already let's us know: this book has three main characters, how are they ever going to be related? The reader will have the pleasure of finding out. And of course, the reader does find out, and rather swiftly at that (though, I have to note here, I think maybe I'm not a great reader of graphic novels; how long is it supposed to take to read a page of a comic like this? To read a whole section?). Though, in terms of these characters resolving into each other, I was a bit curious as to where the base-line reality lies in this thing. As I was talking about with The City & The City, it's often the case in fantastic tales, that it doesn't really matter how crazy the world it takes place in is, so long as that world is self-consistent. In the case of ABC, is Jin's world the same as Danny's? That is, in Danny's world, is he actually still just Jin, seeing himself as a white American kid, or did the transformation actually happen?
And, as a point of comparison, Audioshocker 2009 You-Don't-Suck-Award nominee, Dan Chaon's Await Your Reply probably stands as an example of a book with a similar structure which is resolved in a less YA-y way. The main distinction being that, though there are multiple characters that turn out to be transformed or disguised versions of themselves in other plotlines in ABC, the tale itself is told in more-or-less linear fashion, whereas in AYR, not only is there some character-crossing (some identity theft), but the tale is much more chopped up, and less obvious in its time-line (until the reader finally figures out what's going on (who is who and when they are).
--rather directly stated meanings/morals
I don't think there's anything wrong with being obvious. That's probably what makes YA literature enjoyable for grown-ups too; we don't always want to do the work of figuring out what a book is really about. The "transforming" idea, how emigration and life as a minority is always an act of transforming oneself, whether those codes come from within your community or from without, finds a happy home in the literal/actual acts of transformation undergone by these characters. So when that old lady at the herbalist early on in the story warns a young Jin about the loss of his soul and transforming, we understand it as a metaphorical turn about where one's identity comes from. And then when he actually transforms into Danny, it's given a fine fantastical resonance (as opposed to, say, the more alienating metamorphosis of poor Gregor Samsa into a giant beetle).
--a wrap it all up ending
Just for the record, it's my guess that the happy, fully concluding manner of ending literature for young people is probably a newer trend. Seems like once upon a time, authors were willing to traumatize their readers a bit more (mostly, as I look back on my own childhood (which is already too soon to get at what I'm trying to imply), I'm thinking of dead dogs here). I just wasn't thrilled with the "your best friend was my son, a monkey, and he hates humans now, so go win him back over" ending.
So, as for what I didn't like as much about this: (and this probably just reveals my usual biases) what's up with Tze-Yo-Tzuh? Or, more specifically, sending the monk and the monkey to go give gifts to Baby Jesus broke past the barriers set up by of my weak agnostic notions. Just a little much. I mean, I suppose it stands as a fine archetype of East-meeting-West, but the notion that we can get through globalized culture-mashing modern existence by recognizing that we all have the same Creator just seems... ugh, I dunno, just a little much. Given the amount of in-fighting between sects of the Abrahamaic religions alone, I don't know, I suppose I would have preferred something more secular to bring it all home with, that's all. I realize that it's a work of fantasy, but grounding it in a bit more reality at the end might also be useful to the kids that have the most to gain from reading it.
NEXT WEEK: Thoreau's Walden (and I fucking mean it!)
IN AUGUST: We'll get the month of my birth off on the right foot (to head) with some original fiction, then go from there.
I tear through graphic novels at a decent clip - and I finished this the day after Nick left town. And I really didn't care for it. I'm not saying the story isn't well designed or useful for some, but I have yet to find the cultural identity story that resonates with me.
I am an immigrant, although for all intensive purposes I might as well be an ABCD, or American Born Confused Desi as the FOBs like to say. I grew up in Pittsburgh and New Haven and have lived quite a few places in between.
I never really experienced this sort of culture clash. No one ever made fun of me for being Indian, or worshiping gods with 10 heads and 8 arms. No one ever called me a towelhead, asked me if I knew Apu or owned a convenience store. I lived in a nice neighborhood, but my elementary and first high school were less than "enlightened".
On the other hand, I can appreciate the idea the "why can't I just be normal like everyone else" thing, but it was never about my culture. But that isn't limited or biased towards culture for most kids. What kid really wants to be like his parents?
I don't think people see me as Indian first and a person second. Perhaps that's just me, but I've always said that my ethnicity does not define me. I don't think girls ever turned me down because I had brown skin. It was likely because I was a fat awkward teenager who spent all his time around computers.
I'm more interested in what MJ or Kirsten would offer up to the conversation. Biracial kids seem to have a zen balance about them. I think it's because for them, it has never been a question about how they are perceived by others - but how they perceive themselves.
okay, first off, Pete, did you remember i had a high school band called Monkeyfist? or was it Monkey Fist? damn, i can't remember. yeah, you probably did.
anyway, i definitely didn't take as critical an eye to this book as either Pete or Neal did (Neal critiquing it on a personal level and Pete critiquing it on a structural level, i'd say).
i read it more for the art (ohhh bright colors!) and the themes ("even though i'm white and born in America i'm still trying extremely hard to relate those who are not!" says Nick).
and i would like to add that i didn't even realize how YA-oriented (hah! no pun intended!) this book was until i read this analysis. i guess everything is rather neat and tidy by the conclusion. but goddamn it, i was raised on superhero comic books and i like neat and tidy conclusions that leave potential for future stories set within a shared universe yet still deliver their own satisfying ending featuring a moral!!!
all in all, i think Neal's personal observations ring true for me in this sense -- i don;t think this book is necessarily written about today's youth. it would be a hyperbole of sorts for many immigrant youths today, i feel. however, i think it probably rings very true for the immigrants of Generation X, in that Internet-less America was far less internationally minded and embracing of other cultures.
so in that regard, i view ABC as a cultural document, one very dependent upon the experience of its 30s-ish author who turned what he learned into an interesting (and brightly colored!) fable that weaves folk tale with prime time sitcom. it's not perfect in its delivery, but then again, the morals and themes have been simplified as well, and i think the pacing and structure of the story fits its thematic content very well.
what i'd like to critique is the physical delivery. what's with the square art set on rectangular pages? the layout strikes me as a huge waste of paper, not to mention that it creates an unnecessary clash of geometries. also, each page appears as if it were a self-contained comic strip, almost as if it ran as a webcomic before it was collected. did it? because everywhere i look, it seems like it was made as an OGN.
anyway, physical package aside, i think it's a fast story that's at its best when it works in broad strokes -- confused young immigrant boy struggles to fit in, stubborn monkey god refuses to adjust his concept of self to what the rest of the world wants, and excessively bland teen is devastated by his excessively stereotyped cousin. when it gets more specific (and hints at being more complex) towards the end (like the transformation and the conclusion), i feel that it sacrifices some of its earlier charm for a nice, neat ending. but how it gets to that ending is extremely fun, even if it's a little light on insight for adults who've already weighed out similar cultural issues before.
plus, i really like Gene's kick-ass monkey god art.
I think you may be in luck re: cultural identity, Neal, since I think middle-class first world culture is being steered away from any sort of identity politics whatsoever. Avatar, along with, now, Inception are examples of what I mean: this sort of post-video game/virtual existence entertainment which encourages its consumers to give way to virtual realities, arguing, in fact, that they're just as real. The catch being that you have to give yourself totally over to the virtual world--whether plugging yourself in to a giant tree, or revealing all your secrets to a dream-invader and his/her crack team of dreamsters.
Which is fine in its own right, since race/ethnicity does become entirely arbitrary in a virtualized context, but it seems strikingly inaccurate to think, then, that any sense of personal identity is no longer required. Or, to put it another way, understanding that the "individual" only exists in a dialectical relationship with a "society" may be an outmoded concept (maybe global corporatized capitalism is evolving past the Enlightenment), but at the same time utter surrender to a novel power structure is still just that; identity-power can and should be shared, but not necessarily just released. Nor is it so simple to keep "tribes" from springing up within virtual communities, and similar--we are mammals, after all--desires to form close group bonds will be repressed by the extent virtualizers, via fascism masquerading as egalitarianism.
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and, yes, I should have mentioned from the get go: the monkey art is awesome.
The quality of your article is very good. Nice reading, informative, and thought provoking.
@sales consultant: your insight is meaningful and interesting. i especially like the part where you said "informative."
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