Dear all:
Since we missed class this week due to the terrible weather, I wanted to post some additional questions for discussion that we might have addressed in class last night had we been there. I had planned to spend the first half of class (before our first presentation) talking about connections between YA books you have read and themes/issues raised in the articles. Below, I list each article and 2-6 themes or characteristics the author addresses when discussing YA books for and about girls. So take a look at the list and write a bit about how you see the novel(s) you have read intersecting or connecting with any of these themes. Do you think the books you have read are consistent with how Tighe, Mazza, Seelinger Trites, Simmons, and Shrieves characterize books for girls and how they might be read and responded to by female teen readers? Or do you think the books you have read are very different than the types of books the authors describe in their critical pieces? If so, how are they different? Let's begin a conversation!
"Reviving Ophelia with Young Adult Literature" by Mary Ann Tighe
--Conforming to society's expectations
--Little support from parents
--Survival of teen main character
"Who's Laughing Now? A Short History of Chick Lit" by Cris Mazza
--Post-Feminism. What is post-feminism? Are YA books ever post-feminist (i.e., "Adolescent Chick Lit")?
--Chick Lit as a genre for women/girls
"Defining the Feminist Children's Novel" by Roberta Seelinger Trites
Feminist children's books would include:
--traditional gender roles limiting both boys and girls
--characters transcending gender roles
--plots that empower the main character regardless of his/her gender
--at least one woman in a stereotypical gender role
--a reversing of traditional gender roles
--voice as a metaphor for female agency
"Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls" by Rachel Simmons
--Do YA books ever address issues of violence and aggression between or among girls?
--Do they ever address so-called "indirect" aggression? Closeness and importance of girlfriends? How girls are unprepared to negotiate conflict? Gossip as indirect aggression?
Janet
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4 comments:
For now (in a time crunch):
In reaction to the girls' lit selections, I see several connections to the book I read for that week, Speak . First, I see a connection with the "Reviving Ophelia with Young Adult Literature" article. Melinda, the main character, has been outcast by virtually the entire school because she caused a party to get busted. She doesn't have the courage to tell her friends that she only called the cops because she was raped at the party. In turn, she is a completely different person since this experience. Throughout the book, she has no support from her parents as they are always on her back or just not there. She struggles with who she's supposed to be throughout most of the book. She has to find ways to survive.
I see a LOT of aggression throughout this book, especially hateful attitudes between the girls. It is deep and deceitful aggression. I think this is the strongest presence in regards to the issues addressed in the readings. I will add more to this later, as I have to run to a meeting.
I am reading two books for the boys' week. Lord of the Flies and Hard Love . I don't know if I will get through all of Hard Love so the other is "back up." I am interested in talking about stereotypes and identity of young males in relation between the books and the readings.
Lastly, Katrina, do you have anything for us to be reading?
Ariadne, the protagonist of Regina Krummel’s Looking Good, suffers from anorexia, which could conceivably be considered a form of aggression against oneself. As I mentioned in my earlier post, Krummel depicts Ari’s condition as a result of the overwhelming pressure to look perfect—slim, sexy, attractive, hot—that girls experience in our culture.
The only instance of girl-on-girl aggression depicted in Looking Good occurs when Ariadne’s friend steals her track-star boyfriend and goes to the prom with him, which seems almost quaint compared to the other forms of aggression that occur. In one of the Gossip Girl books, stealing a friend’s boyfriend might be a pivotal plot point, but in this book, it’s simply one of many tempests that swirl around Ari’s desperate life. Ari fails to form any genuine friendships with other girls until after she is hospitalized and joins a support group for anorexic girls, a number of whom die shortly after Ari has befriended them.
Late in the book, Ari becomes involved with a rough biker guy who treats her ambivalently—he rubs soothing creams and lotions on her weak, fragile body and comforts her with tender assurances, but he also forces her to shoplift for him and he physically abuses her quite severely when she fails to steal the items he asks her to steal.
Ari does survive her ordeal, but the ending of the book is no happy-ever-after. The threat of Ari’s suffering a relapse hangs heavy over the book’s conclusion (during the course of the story, Ari relapses at least twice), and although she achieves some sort of rapprochement with her largely unsupportive parents, Ari must almost certainly chart a course for her future relying only upon herself.
With the Tighe and Trites articles and Cynthia Voigt's Homecoming in mind… even before their mother abandoned them, the Tillerman family lived on the fringes of society, and as a result society didn't have much influence on Dicey or her siblings. Because of Dicey's mother's declining mental health and the exit of her father, Dicey assumes the role of sole caretaker and provider. She's so deep in survival mode, however, that she's genuinely surprised when late in the novel a boy notices her (how well she took to sailing the boat and he begins to say something out loud about if she was a little older…). At this point she makes reference to her breasts growing and the reader senses that this issue will probably need to be addressed in the sequel, but there's no time for that in this novel. In Homecoming, parents and society aren't reliable; Dicey and her siblings can't afford to trust either of them, and as a result their influence is minimal.
I'd have to say that Dicey is empowered and transcends female gender roles to the greatest extent possible for an abandoned thirteen year old. This seems reinforced when Dicey is regularly mistaken for a boy by other characters. Dicey's voice is also empowered from the beginning of the novel when their mother tells all of the children to "Mind what Dicey tells you. You hear?" There's even a dramatic bit of a feminist showdown of voices at the end of the novel between Dicey and her Grandmother, who's enjoyed the 'liberation' she's gained since her controlling husband's death. Maybe it's more of a chess match of voices, but anyway, fans of the postmodern feminist experience (sounds like a good riot grrrl band name) would be pleased with the outcome of this showdown, two winners and no losers. If everybody in the family pulls their weight, the kids can stay with Grandma who respectfully agrees to allow Dicey some say in raising the younger siblings. Damn fine book.
Ursula Riggs, the main female voice of Big Mouth & Ugly Girl, complicates the traditional feminine, societal role at the beginning of the novel: she is the girl’s star basketball player, she radiates a not-to-messed-with persona, she radiates a tougher than nails attitude, she speaks her mind, stands up for what she believes is fair, and could care less about clothes, make-up, and the high school social scene.
Toward the end of the novel, however, Ursula undergoes a transformation as her friendship grows with the leading male character, Matt. She never compromises her beliefs or opinions, but she begins to become softer around the edges, less intimidating, and almost friendly. At the end of the novel, Ursula gives herself a makeover, which was sort of disappointing to me as a reader. Throughout the entire story she seems comfortable in her own skin, and then out of the blue she cuts and dyes her hair. Her explanation for this radical change is, “This was to celebrate, I was feeling good. I was tired of my old dirty-blond hair that didn’t reflect my good feeling” (255). Of all the heroic deeds and lessons Ursula learns in this novel, she’s most liberated by changing her hair style.
So what appears to be an empowering rebellion against peers, parents, authority, and society, turns out to be a secret cry for help in the end; A cry that can be answered and solved with a trip to the salon.
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