Who Gets to Write the Story?
by Elizabeth Solar
Zoe: How do you write women so well?
Melvin: I think of a man and take away reason and accountability.
The above dialogue from the 1997 romantic comedy As Good as It Gets, occurs between a young female fan, and a best-selling novelist with OCD, played by Jack Nicholson. Melvin’s withering remarks flow from a combination of isolation, distrust of humanity, and his misanthropic nature. The line is funny because it’s consistent with his world view, and provides a socially unexpected, albeit unkind, response to a compliment.
Many male novelists have rendered strong, iconic women: Hedda Gabler, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Matilda, to name a few. Can – or may -- they easily do so now amidst ongoing discussions of who is allowed to write the story?
A recent New York Times opinion piece Teen Fiction and the Perils of Cancel Culture reflects on a heated subject among writers, other creatives, and many in the general public. Jennifer Senior’s opinion piece argues the marketplace, rather than wannabe taste makers, and sensitivity readers decide whether a book gets published, or chucked into the literary garbage heap. In the last two years, several Young Adult works have been shelved. Some, like Keira Drake’s The Continent are put in ‘time out’ until the author edits, revises, and alters their work into a more palatable, less ‘offensive’ form for the reading public. I have not read either version of Drake’s book, so I’m unqualified to comment on either the quality of the writing, or surrounding controversy. However, I’m disturbed by this trend.
Earlier this month, Kosoko Jackson’s debut YA novel, A Place for Wolves was yanked from circulation before it landed in the hands of your local librarian, bookseller, middle school teacher, or student. Outcries on Twitter claimed the first-time novelist – who is gay and black – was unqualified to write about Muslims amidst the backdrop of the Kosovo war. Further, his protagonists were two white privileged young men. Critics, many of whom hadn’t read the book, expressed outrage and called for an immediate take down of both the book, and Jackson. That’s after a ‘sensitivity reader’ had signed off on the manuscript.
If you’re not familiar with the term, sensitivity reader refers to a particular type of editor the publisher hires to scan, and flag stories for cultural inaccuracies, harmful stereotypes, or other problematic content. Perceived faults, like getting a cultural tradition wrong, often result from a lack of familiarity with a culture, religion or race, and are not toxic. In these cases, the sensitivity reader serves as the trusted friend who tells you about the broccoli wedged between your teeth before you embarrass yourself to talk to that hot guy at a cocktail party. But has their become an over reach in sensitivity that now supersedes artistic expression?
In a karmic twist, before Jackson wrote his novel, he himself had been a sensitivity reader for a major publishing house. A former cog in the culture canceling machine, one would say. There are legitimate complaints against certain novels, but should we get out the red pencil of censorship address them? Are we so ‘triggered’ and ‘offended’ by words on a page that we reflexively call out, then cancel whatever assaults our sensibilities? Are we creating a zero-sum policy on storytelling?
Let’s look at visual art. Do we paint over a Monet because his wife wears kabuki make-up, and elaborate red kimono? Should we shun Gaugin, the French ex-pat banker whose work celebrates a Polynesian culture, depicts very young native women in ways the harken to his famed dalliances with them? There’s not a Mapplethorpe photo hanging over my living room fireplace, but I support its place in a gallery or museum.
As someone who has worked as a journalist, I get nervous as we become more ensconced in a cancel culture. Perhaps it’s a profound belief in the First Amendment. As with many other societal contracts, this right to speech requires us to ‘First, do no harm.’ The First Amendment exists to protect my speech. More importantly, it protects yours. We need constant reminders of that, especially as we stake more rigid claims on whose tribe is right, without ever reaching out to see how the other tribes live.
Well-meaning people often create intolerable conditions. You can be so far left, you’ve taken a right turn. Let that right-wing policy speak at your liberal arts college? Fuhgeddaboudit. Hold a televised Democratic debate on Fox News? Absolutely not! Address any criticism of conservative policy, or anything the president does on the aforementioned cable outlet? Don’t even think about it. Fake news!
What you wrote offends me. I don’t believe that world view. Your story goes beyond the boundaries of good taste, so it’s inappropriate to publish. Then there’s the matter of cultural appropriation. (If we never ‘appropriated,’ we’d miss out on most music, fashion, art, pop culture and philosophy. But I digress.) Does your story contain any of the aforementioned? Good riddance to you and your book.
A closed mind impedes free speech, thought, and more importantly a free imagination. Writers as a group are in their heads enough already, always self-editing. Do we need to add one more thing to the list?
Turns out, Jackson’s debut book was similar to many debut novels: Not very good. What if readers got to decide the merits of the book, and any potentially harmful passages, for themselves, instead of allowing a (largely) uninformed social media pack deem the work dead, even before arrival? Literary critics, librarians, teachers and YA readers would have made their opinions known, and judged the book on the actual storytelling, where the book ultimately fell short.
Let’s check ourselves before we rush to judgement. Our work could be next on the publishing chopping block, if we’re lucky enough to get it that far. There are perils in placing too much faith in social media ‘influencers,’ or those who possess more opinions than knowledge, more outrage than understanding and ideas, more of a herd mentality than critical thought.
What if Shakespeare had not written Othello? Margaret Atwood not delved into a futureworld of worse living through chemistry in Oryx and Crake? Had Mark Haddon not explored the mind of a young boy on the autism spectrum in The Curious Incident of the Dog at Midnight?
George Bernard Shaw said, “Most men see things as they are, and ask why. I see things that never were, and ask ‘why not?’” That what writers often do. We write because we love stories. We often write about what we know, but also the people, places and events we roll into amalgams our life experiences, and plain old flights of fancy. Dreams, mental wanderings, curiosity about our world carries us to places often unknown and unknowable. We write about them, or at least I do, to understand something (or someone) that expresses what connects us to each other. Writing untethered by convention, the laws of physics and a strict societal code is one of the most freeing parts of my creative life.
With that freedom comes the responsibility to employ curiosity to enlighten rather than exploit. Let’s do our research to ensure we’re educated, respectful and accurate about what we write. That’s the writer’s job. When our imaginations run wild through the fertile forests of our subconsciousness and experience, we often uncover our humanity, share some universal truths, and perhaps elevate the human conversation. That’s what I want to do. I like to think Jackson was doing the same.
Note: The views expressed here are solely my own, and do not necessarily reflect those of Acts of Revision. I am grateful for our lively conversation, and differing points of view. The backgrounds, life experiences, feedback and generosity of my writing tribe have enhanced my storytelling and life beyond measure. Please share your comments, and opinions.
