The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games

I'm sure I'm not the first person to draw a connection between The Hunger Games and the Japanese film Battle Royale – a movie in which a class of students are forced to fight to the death. When I told a friend that I was taking this course at the start of the semester, she said, “Oh, I bet you're reading The Hunger Games, aren't you?” Somehow I had managed to avoid ever hearing about this book, even though it is apparently massively popular. When I read it, I quickly figured out why.

The book is exciting and has a powerful and compelling plot. Though the tone of the novel is inherently dark, I would draw parallels to other compelling texts such as Harry Potter; the kind of texts that make non-readers read.

That said, I'm not sure I would be comfortable incorporating this text into my classroom (though I would present it as an option for choice reading). The use of violence throughout the text, in my mind, does not serve a purpose; it is not representative of any greater political message, and it doesn't further the plot. Rather, violence – or violence and survival – forms the crux of the plot.

Perhaps this speaks to my lack of ability as a reader, but I had difficulty unpacking the text. There was an overarching theme of an over-controlling government, violating individual liberties to exert authoritarian control and exact what amounts to petty revenge in the form of making an example out of those who rebel. However, if this theme was somehow supposed to apply as a commentary on a modern-day situation, I personally had difficulties drawing any parallel.

Ultimately, what drew me in to this book were the interpersonal relationships between the characters. While others may draw on the romantic aspects of the text regarding Katniss and Peeta, I found the relationship between Katniss and Rue particularly engaging. It seemed less cliché; it wasn't a relationship born out of romance (contrived or otherwise), nor could both Katniss and Rue both win, making the allegiance futile over the long term. Yet it spoke to the desperation of human nature as well as the roll that sentimentality can play in the face of danger.

The text struck me as well written, engaging, and at times heartbreaking. This one will go on my list to read again when I can approach it for my own benefit rather than in an academic context.

The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm

The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm, like much science fiction, takes place in what could be described as a subtle dystopia. In the futuristic setting, there has been a good deal of scientific and social advancement (though they now live in a world where petroleum is so scarce that plastic is viewed as a luxury). Despite this advancement, the streets are plagued with crime and there still exists significant social inequality.

Nancy Farmer makes an interesting choice in the use of a regressed society, Resthaven, contained within walls in sort of wildlife sanctuary filled with humans. The juxtaposition of this society with the larger society forms a commentary on the conditions of the futuristic lifestyle contained within the book.

I was intrigued by the setting of The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm. The choice to use Zimbabwe struck me ass odd. It seems strange to me an American author would choose to use Zimbabwe, rather than a country she (and we, as readers) are more familiar with. Though there were some elements inherently related to African culture, the story could probably have been adapted to any other country. For me, the use of Zimbabwe didn't necessarily unlock any element of the story that couldn't have been presented in a different setting.

However, the use of Zimbabwe does serve as a commentary of by disrupting the status quo. By trivializing the role of current economic and military superpowers in the future, Farmer paints a grim picture for the fate of those nations in her depictions of economic prosperity in the setting.

The text includes elements of science fiction as well as mysticism. This mysticism at times goes unexplained, and at other times is incorporated into folkloric elements of the narrative. This mysticism explained by folklore is part of what makes the Zimbabwean setting crucial to the story telling in the few instances that it is.

The story contains themes that may seem cliché in some texts. These include adolescents feeling imposed on by the strictness of their guardians, the conflict of technology versus human spirit, and a variety of other themes not uncommon to Sci Fi. However, The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm was a refreshingly unique take on these common themes, approaching them in a manner in which they only seem cliché on careful consideration.

While this text may not be a perfect gem in the Sci Fi genre in the same manner as works by authors like Phillip K. Dick or Neil Gaiman, the same quality that keeps it from being an archetype for the genre makes it approachable for Sci Fi novices. As such, I think it would be valuable to include in a secondary education setting if appropriate the the standards and themes covered in the course.

Oppression. Language. Censorship. Voices, in many ways, was reminiscent of 1984. It seems that language has been a central theme of many of the books we have read – The Circuit, Sold, and even Looking for Alaska, and others as well . Language is empowering. In the case of Voices, the corollary is also true: Lack of language is disempowering, and that can be used to the advantage of the oppressor.

I had difficulty following the plot throughout the text. However, part of me wondered if this was intentional on behalf of author Ursula Le Guin. War is confusing and chaotic, and many people often are unaware of what is truly going on. In a real-world parallel, 92% of Afghaniadults didn't know about the terror attacks of 9/11 and about 70% of Americans thought Saddam Hussein was personally in 9/11. I'd like to think that Le Guin was trying to make a deep but subtle commentary by making the purposes of conflict and the parties involved difficult to follow. However, responding simply as a reader – especially from the perspective of a hypothetical young adult reader – the text was unenjoyable and confusing.

While the text in some ways is reminiscent of the refugee experience we have been studying in our previous units, the situation in Voices seems too ingenuine. In my view, fantasy is not an appropriate topic to communicate a certain experience. In reality, it serves better as a commentary on certain power structures. Rather than a refugee experience, I think Voices was somewhat effective in demonstrating the role that differing ideologies and beliefs play in oppression and conflict, such as those pertaining to religion within the text.
As a future educator I do have a certain affinity towards texts that present books as a form of empowerment and the formation of identity (one of the few reasons I seemed to be in the minority with a favorable view of Looking for Alaska). I enjoy positive representations of young readers within texts. However, I was unable to become immersed in the text.

Leviathan

I became immersed in Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan, but as I read, I felt it increasingly difficult to suppress the analytic, literary theory I have learned throughout my undergraduate studies. The issues of gender and class power struggles are present throughout the text. Further, the stories follow archetypes present throughout various fantasy works.

My experience with fantasy and sci-fi novels is somewhat limited. However, the “orphan protagonist who, either through fate or ambition, finds him/herself integral to a greater struggle he/she was unaware of when they set out on his/her journey, and the protagonist contributes to the struggle in a major way through his/her skillset and courage” seems to apply to both Deryn and Alek, but also Harry Potter, Frodo Baggins, Luke Skywalker, Clark Kent, and many more. Though the ending differed from the usual conclusion of the hero saving the known world (though I have not read the sequels), as I read, I couldn't help but feel as though I had read this particular story several times before.

Gender played a significant role in the text. As readers, we were shown a society in which women were prevented from taking on certain roles. Yet, Deryn desires to be a pilot in the service, and she takes on a male persona, “Dylan,” in order to accomplish this task. As the book progresses, Deryn discovers the VIP boffin who the service is escorting is in fact female. These elements of gender within the power system present in Leviathan are challenged throughout the text. I believe that this would serve as empowering to the young reader.

Not dissimilarly, Alek encounters limitations due to the circumstances of his birth as well. Though he is clearly advantaged in being male, his position in the royal lineage places him in a situation where his is unable to inherit the throne, but is continually taunted by its closeness. Alek too, in a way, challenges this limitation in his desire for power.

Beyond gender, the novel addresses the issue of class. Alek, brought up in privilege and with significant private education, was raised in a household that valued education. His father thought that all the citizens should be educated. Yet despite this, Alek is plagued by a degree of elitism as he makes his escape from possible persecution, viewing the common people with contempt during his first interactions with them, despite the fact that he is the one who is unable to function in society, failing to purchase parts from a shop or even acquire a newspaper without drawing conflict and unnecessary attention. Yet through the text, Alek appears to learn some humility as his situation has made it advantageous to present himself as a commoner.

The two protagonists predicaments disempower the notion of class and condemn gender discrimination while simultaneously creating a sense of encouragement towards challenging the situation of one's birth. While the purpose of introducing texts to students should not be to foster a particular morality, Leviathan is a medium for the author to critique society through what seems to be a familiar story.

Tangled Threads

My experience with Hmong culture has been limited. When I was a child, I had Hmong friends before I even knew what that term means. However, through my various courses I had learned a fair amount about the history of the Hmong people, particularly with concern towards the lack of home for an entire ethnic group.

As I read Tangled Threads: a Hmong Girl's Story, I felt as if the book tried to present me with emotions tied to that experience. I've read about these experiences in a general sense as they were reflected on in Edward Said's “Reflections on Exile,” but Tangled Threads attempts to portray these emotions in a personal aspect specific to the unique experience of a people – though I would argue it fails to do so. A the same time that the book serves to discuss what it means to be without a home, it also serves to illustrate both the discomfort and the wonder in the immersion in something new.

As in The Circuit (as well as other texts we've encountered this semester), Language once again plays a critical role in the experience of what it means to be human. Mai struggles with the conflict between assimilating into a new culture while trying to hold on to an old one. In this struggle, language plays a central role.

However, I felt difficulty becoming immersed in the text. It did not feel genuine. I've previously read Kao Kalia Yang's The Latehomecomer: A Hmong Family Memoir, and that felt in relaying an individual experience. In contrast, Tangled Threads seems to read more like an archetypical immigration story. Struggles with language, culture, religion, and finding a new home seem almost cliché when presented in this text.

If I wanted to incorporate a text about Hmong people into my class, I would prefer to use The Latehomecomer for older students rather than Tangled Threads. I don't think it has to do with whether or not the text is factually accurate (it's presented as a novel). Sold, for example, felt genuine in capturing the experience of a young girl being taken from her home and experiencing significant trauma. Unfortunately, Tangled Threads did not connect with me in the same way.

My Name Is

“My name is...” is probably one of the most – if not the most – difficult things I've had to read. I find it interesting, because in my experience with literature, I have always enjoyed the formal and structural aspects of literature. I like texts with powerful descriptive language, such as Steinbeck's works. I enjoy powerful dialogue, like in To Kill a Mockingbird. Yet “My name is” is completely lacking in both; The narratives take the form of a factual series of events, largely free of personal response from the narrator. Yet the text remains powerful. A sentence about playing soccer is said with the same lack of detail and matter-of-fact tone as a sentence about having a having a house raided.

The way the stories are told vary. Sine students use distancing language: “They opened fire on all of them. My uncle and his wife, who was pregnant, and my grandmother all died.”

Others use ominous language “They don't just shoot you,they make sure your death is long and very painful. Once I saw a man get burned to death in front of the town.”

Others are matter-of-fact, with varying levels of detail.“Finally, the gunman took his gun and shot three times, two into my fathers chest, once in his neck.” “My grandfather told them my father was not there. The men killed my grandfather.”

These particular features of their language use may be a product of learning English as a second language. However, it reminds me of the way people talk. Not in an artistic, Mark Twain-like style, but rather, in a genuine fashion. Through my life, I've been to several talks with survivors of various trauma – the atomic bombings of Japan, the Holocaust, beatings during the Civil Rights movement – and there is a quality used to that language that is common between all these tellings. There isn't a need for stylistic presentation or figurative language – the stories speak for themselves.

As a teacher, I would be hesitant to employ a text like this in a classroom, especially in a classroom where students might have experienced similar trauma. However, in some classrooms, a text like this might be useful alongside another text (for example, it's pairs well with Tangled Threads) in order to make the text seem real to the students.

Authoritarianism in Farewell to Manzanar

As a psychology major, I took great interest in the concept of the “authoritarian personality.” It was conceived of by a group of social scientists at Berkeley. Their goal was to explain the personality (and its origins) that predisposes one to fascist beliefs and actions. Their motivation was to explain the rise of the Nazis and the Holocaust, but the theory surrounding the personality theory can be applied to many situations. While it has been heavily criticized and partially debunked in their explanations for why the personality forms, the key components of the personality theory – the focus on an ingroup, the projecting of undesirable traits to an outgroup, and general xenophobia – still apply. When I wrote my senior paper on the Authoritarian personality, I used the theory to explain Executive Order 9066 and the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. As I read Farewell to Manzanar, I could not help but be reminded of this theory.
    However, as I read the book, my focus shifted towards something that is not usually paid attention to – the authoritarian personality is usually used to describe the oppressor. After all, the oppressor holds the authority, so authoritarianism becomes apparent on a wide scale. But as I gain a close perspective of the microcosms within the oppressed minority groups, the same traits emerge. Throughout the memoir, authoritarian traits emerge from the Japanese characters, especially Jeanne's father. This is seen repeatedly in his resistance to her baptism, his views on sexuality and dress, his emphasis on tradition. Combined with the anti-American sentiment of the Japanese men and what could be perceived as paranoia concerned with helping the Americans, these authoritarian traits are seen throughout the book, even in the oppressed characters. And to me, as a reader, that makes it real.
    Too often, historical stories – memoir, nonfiction, and historical fiction – make the characters too unreal. The events are often depicted as cartoons: there is a definitive good guy and bad guy. One person or group is the evil oppressor and the other is the saintly victim. While it is clear in the book that the U.S. government was oppressive, the interned Japanese were not always likable. When the narrator elicits sympathy for the interned, she does this through a sense of injustice rather than through depicting a cartoonish, puppy-dog innocence of all those who have been oppressed.
    I genuinely enjoyed this book. The internment of Japanese immigrants is often a lost chapter in American history. Even those who acknowledge it often cast the significance aside by comparing it to the Holocaust that was occurring at the same time. I would definitely consider using this book in my classroom. I think it is very important to make sure events like this are not forgotten, and to recognize the moral ambiguity in actions taken by our own country.

Labor, Language, and The Circuit

As I read The Circuit: Stories from the Life of a Migrant Child, I couldn't help but be reminded of The Grapes of Wrath. The comparisons are pretty straightforward – a distressed family leaves for California in search of economic opportunity, taking jobs as farm laborers only to be continually met with misfortune and adversity. There are differences between the book as well. Some readers, due to anti-immigrant sentiment, might not sympathize with the Jimenez family as they do the Joads, arguing that the Jimenez family are not entitled to the “American Dream” as they are not citizens. The book is essentially about chasing what we would describe as the American Dream. However, and empathetic reader, armed with the knowledge of the immigration system, would understand the struggle the Jimenezes face. But perhaps the most direct comparison I would draw between the two texts is the ability of the property owners to exploit workers to the greatest extend possible.
    The Circuit goes beyond labor issues into other important issues such as language accessibility and education. While the goal of using literature in the classroom should not be to express moral behavior that we want students to emulate, my own personal biases urge me to use this text in hopes that Francisco's desire to go to school and to speak English instill in my students some sense of importance or appreciation towards education. Francisco essentially views being educated and able to communicate as a ticket to happiness. This is a very commendable attribute. On a teaching note, when incorporating this text, I may assign (or at least encourage) my students to emulate Francisco keep a list English words and definitions that they didn't know (something I think is valuable for people of all levels of English proficiency).
    Overall, the book strongly evokes sympathy for the main character as well as his family. With little understanding of what it means to be a migrant worker, this text creates a window allowing me to begin to understand that experience (even if just a little). Depending on time constraints in the classroom, this text would work well paired with a text like The Grapes of Wrath.