None of this was enough
The culture police strike again.
When Laura Moriarty decided she wanted to write a dystopian novel about a future America in which Muslims are forcefully corralled into detention centers, she was aware that she should tread carefully. Her protagonist is a white teenager, but one of her main characters, Sadaf, is a Muslim American immigrant from Iran, so Moriarty began by diving into Iranian books and films. Moriarty explained via email that she asked two Iranian immigrant friends to read an early draft and see if Sadaf seemed authentic to them, and whether the language and accent fit with their memories and experiences. A friend of Pakistani and American descent who is a practicing Muslim gave additional feedback. Moriarty asked a senior colleague at the University of Kansas, Giselle Anatol, who writes about Young Adult fiction and has been critical of racist narratives in literature, to read the book with a particular eye toward avoiding another narrative about a “white savior.” And after American Heart was purchased by Harper, the publisher provided several formal “sensitivity reads,” in which a member of a minority group is charged with spotting potentially problematic depictions in a manuscript.
We can tell what’s coming. There’s a But.
None of this, as it turns out, was enough to protect American Heart from becoming the subject of the latest skirmish in the increasingly contentious battle over representation and diversity in the world of YA literature. American Heart won’t be published until January, but it has already attracted the ire of the fierce group of online YA readers that journalist Kat Rosenfield has referred to as “culture cops.”
And that was before the starred review.
The backlash escalated last week, when Kirkus Reviews gave American Heart a coveted “starred review,” which influences purchases by bookstores and libraries. Kirkus’ anonymous reviewer called the book “by turns terrifying, suspenseful, thought-provoking, and touching,” and praised its “frighteningly believable setting of fear and violent nativism gone awry.” The book’s critics were not pleased with the commendation. “Kirkus Reviews of books reinforce white supremacy,” author and activist Justina Ireland, who had posted a critical review of the book on Medium, wrote on Twitter. “I’m sick to my stomach over this, and I’m so sorry Muslim folks have to contend with one more reminder that their humanity is negotiable.”
Their humanity is negotiable? Because a non-Muslim wrote a story with a non-Muslim protagonist and a Muslim major character? That’s making humanity negotiable?
Kirkus, apparently, was listening. Over the weekend, the publication took down the brief review and replaced it with a remarkable three-paragraph statement from editor in chief Claiborne Smith. He pointed out that the original reviewer was a woman, a Muslim, and an expert in children’s and YA literature—the kind of profile that would privilege her opinion of the book in many circles. Nonetheless, “while we believe our reviewer’s opinion is worthy and valid, some of the wording fell short of meeting our standards for clarity and sensitivity, and we failed to make the thoughtful edits our readers deserve,” Smith wrote.
The whipping will be very gently administered.
On the one hand, we get criticized if our works contain only white characters for ignoring the very real diversity of humans. But, if we include non-white characters, we are practicing “cultural appropriate” and imperialism. So the message?
I wrote a play called “Middle Aged White Women” because it was, well, about middle-aged white women, and was examining the very real world that many of these women inhabit, both with a measure of privilege and a huge measure of invisibility and lack of self worth. I had recently been excoriated for having a play with non-white characters, and told to “write what I know”. Then, I was told by the same theatre group that they couldn’t do a reading of this play because it would be offensive – this from someone who had not read the play, had no idea what it was about, and had heard only the title.
I refuse to give up writing. So there,.
I’m so sick of of vacuous virtue-signalling.
I hate everybody.
The “their humanity is negotiable” is, presumably, because Muslims are dehumanised in the story. Because, for a distressingly high number of young adults, fiction as such doesn’t actually exist; every story is just like a biography, and the only themes that matter are those on the surface. To this kind of thinking, it doesn’t matter whether or not the book can serve as a warning or an analysis or even just an interesting thought experiment; if the book contains white supremacists in it, that book is a white supremacist book.
It’s a horribly stilted view of the human imagination, in my book.
Careful, Seth, that kind of talk may just get your book on the…..erm……blacklist.
Do you want it in the head or the stomach?
My impression is that white women get taken to task for this at a greater rate than white men.
Don’t have the numbers to back up my gut feel, which is that white women get called out far more often, loudly, and intensely, and with a greater degree of patronising, disingenuous cowardice from publishers (&conference organisers etc.) who withdraw their support.
Not missing for a moment that the reviewer, a Muslim woman, was collateral damage here.
Seems to me that the author, publisher and review house engaged in best – or good – practice with regard to cultural sensitivity and representation. That is until those at Kirkus lost their spine.
What terminology do those who call this white supremacy have left when they meet an actual white supremacist?
Eh, just lost my comment.
Basically, read the Graham article and am now wondering if the problem isn’t just that it’s easier to attack/withdraw support from (white) women authors, but also that people’s interest/comfort in/at engaging extensively with female-authored accounts of the interior lives of women, is shaky at best and easily destabilised by the slightest breeze of opprobrium (see the article regarding ‘The Black Witch’).
Also noting that in situations like these, those who earliest and loudest declaim somatised virtue-signalling (‘sick to my stomach’) are frequently women, often white. Almost like our senses are exquisitely attuned to the opportunity of deflecting liberal misogyny onto another target. Or to launder privilege for professional gain (h/t Glosswitch X2).
Alex SL #7 – good question. I’m sure someone else here has a pithy answer…
And now, the news for Wombats.
I bloody well hope you’re Australian, John, otherwise APPROPRIATION!!!
Should add further to my #8 that in this particular case, the woman feeling queasy as a form of social justice activism, is not white.
The author and the publisher did everything possible to make sure the book was a respectful and realistic depiction of the characters and themes. Actually, I think they went overboard, but I’m sure they were mindful of the knife-sharpeners waiting in the wings. I guess these critics envision a world where only the most marginalized voices are acceptable. Which might be worth it, if it means we wouldn’t haven’t to hear from the Kulture Kops anymore.
Alex SL #7
Exactly, and as Nick Cohen and others have argued, nobody should be more pissed off by this than anti-racists and social justice advocates in general. The far right is already going out of its way to paint any talk of white supremacy etc. – legitimate or not – as “hysteria”, “political correctness gone insane” etc., and the “culture police” is handing them all the free ammunition they need. If you stretch the definition of “white supremacy” to include writing anything at all (i.e. anything that either includes or doesn’t include people of color), then whenever people encounter the term they’re more likely to think “Probably not so bad. That’s what they say about everything.”
fldteslalivia #6, #7
Whenever white people attack other white people for promtoting “white feminism”, the message that’s implied seems to be:
1. I speak for all the non-whites.
2. Anything you* say can be dismissed without engaging with the actual arguments because of the color of your skin.
* Obviously the same does not apply to me. My whiteness is irrelevant.
I suspect it’s true that women get this a lot more than men – though of course I too don’t have the stats.
But it’s certainly like that in the case of social media trans “activism” – there is no equivalent of “TERF” for men, and “TERF” is applied to women, never to male feminists. The “activists” don’t go to talks or meetings of men who are discussing gender and end up throwing punches.
This kind of thing is all too often a very very thinly disguised excuse for jumping all over women while feeling righteous about doing it.
I am sorry if I missed it, but I didn’t find a link to this piece in your post. So, here is the full article.
Thank you for bringing these disturbing developments to your loyal readers.
Oops! Thank you.
One of the links (the one with the text “culture cops”) goes to an excellent related article on Vulture, The Toxic Drama on YA Twitter. There is a great quote from an unnamed children’s book agent: “None of us are willing to comment publicly for fear of being targeted and labeled racist or bigoted. But if children’s-book publishing is no longer allowed to feature an unlikable character, who grows as a person over the course of the story, then we’re going to have a pretty boring business.” I would expand that: it seems that any character, unlikable or not, one who grows as a person or not, featured or not, is suspect in this environment, and can utter statements that can be used as pull-quotes in a trashing of the book.
Sackbut @17: I read that article last week and it scared the hell out of me. I’m an aspiring YA/middle grade author, and the thought of being in these people’s sights…
Ben – you don’t have to be YA to deal with this. I write for adults (no, not that type of adult stuff – just, adult, you know, not YA). I have been criticized for not having people of color in my work; I have been criticized for having people of color in my work. I have been criticized for writing things that I have researched but not personally experienced (“write what you know”) and criticized for writing what I know (middle-aged white woman, anyone?).
What is interesting is one time I sat listening to a harangue against me (one I was not able to just walk out of) for not being “politically correct” enough. Meanwhile, the young man who was also being critiqued was given a total pass for writing about a woman, and with the only ‘humor’ in his piece being young men objectifying women. He did not get called out on it, because, well, I don’t actually know the because. Male, I suppose.
I have a background of poverty and mental illness, but because I am now middle class and stable, most people assume I have no “right” to write about that. I have a history of alcoholism in my family, but I am an occasional drinker married to a teetotaler, so people assume I have no “right” to write about that. Meanwhile, I have never seen a single male in my writing group criticized for the disgraceful way they often portray women, and the only time anyone has been called out for sexist stereotypes, it was a female (and justified, because she had some really obnoxious stereotypes in her piece, but still….it is much less than the play one of the men wrote that posits that women who flirt with a man have no right to cry foul if the guy grabs them without their permission, and that one gets no other voice but mine calling it sexist).
My conclusion is that you can write what you know as long as you are the right sort of person, you write the right sort of thing, you take the accepted view on it, and even then, you might still come into their sights just because. Literature could become very boring very quickly.
I guess I thought the whole point of fiction was, you know, imagining and attempting to understand the lives of other people.
iknklast@19 This kind of “stay in your lane” culture also forces people to be out with things they otherwise wouldn’t, or wouldn’t at that moment simply for the sake of transparency, which itself is not a bad thing but I’d rather it not be forced on me. I don’t want to bring my trauma before a committee to judge whether I’m worthy of writing about it.