About what SHE said about what HE said about what she said.

Oh, all right. This really isn’t about what SHE said about what HE said. It’s my own twisted brain going on about something else.

Okay, here’s the thing: I don’t generally read things where the female characters are always going on about men. Or babies. Or eyeshadow. I’m not good with “traditional” romances, I generally have to fling books around, and librarians DO tend to get testy about those bent spines. But I tend to read a lot of YA and fantasy lit. because I want to write it, and much of it is making a VALIANT attempt to be multicultural. A friend’s general observations on those “attempts” to include people outside the dominant culture has got me thinking — namely that “valiant” isn’t cutting it, and the attempts aren’t going well. Like Alison Bechdel asks a few pertinent questions before seeing a film, p’raps we also shall query a few points the books we’ll read as well:

  • Are the minority characters in this novel or series ever allowed any other dimension? Are they all uniformly evil, or good, wise and kind? Do you notice myriad sagacious Asians appearing in this role?
  • Are external clues such as ethnicity used to signal characterization? (Hello, raven-haired temptresses and evil icy cool blondes, I’m looking at you.) Are all female blondes desirable, and all male blonds evil? (And Germanic? Think Indiana Jones.) Are all redheads quirky and perky, and all Latinas zesty and mouthy, and complaining about their butts? (You must be reading that dreadful SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS tripe, then. Put it down at once.)
  • On the cover of the book, do the minorities look more-ethnic-than-thou? Tribal paint/tatts? Kenté cloth? Trail of Lion Dancers snaking around behind them? Is this designed to help the book sell?
  • Is a character from the dominant culture messianic, and, like Mighty Mouse, there to save the day? Or, is there a magical/mystical brown person to arrive as a stranger, have nothing better to do than to help the character from the dominant culture, be older/wiser/poorer/and therefore more closely tied with Gaia/Mother Earth/mystical earth magic, and then, after offering up some great sacrifice, conveniently vanish or die? (A WIZARED OF EARTHSEA, whitewash edition, I’m looking at YOU.)

Oh, just wait. There are more…

Lazy Weekend Links


Via Kiki Strike, a seriously cool idea hitting gumball machines in Manhattan. Ideas. Plus a $.25 refund.

Cover to Cover this week tackles unusual plots. The seventh graders who answer are adorable, and their reading material is excellent.

Via the Smart B’s (and I would LOVE to hear SB Sarah sing O, Canada to get her little one to go to sleep) is the Puppy Singer. Kind of like The Wedding Singer, but three times as cool. If I ever had kids, it wold be because this guy was moving into my house to do the heavy lifting. Or, the heavy laying down, as it were.

Poetry Friday: Neurotic

Join the Club

Flashing my neurotic’s badge I dare them

to ask me for my license. I don’t look

much different from the rest of them –

in fact, a certain calm emanates.

I’ve seen and felt so much I’m like

a bird on a withered tree, singing.

Diagnosis proclaims me not psychotic.

Sensitive and shy, this patient

has symptoms of depression with a touch

of anxiety and agoraphobia.

We’re not supposed to read our files,

but just the same, we do.

It’s really quite interesting

the way the doctors size us up,

and there’s a preening of feathers,

and comparing of notes.

Sensitive and shy sounds quite genteel,

as opposed to schizoid, paranoid

and abusive, anorexic, manic,

or simply mad.

I’m really quite presentable – not that

you could take me anywhere – I tend

to shiver and sweat in open spaces.

Still, I only suffer from a disease

as common as a cold, ubiquitous

as birds on withered trees, singing.

Poetry as therapy is not quite acceptable.

Myself, I find it more effective

than valium. It’s just that if

the literary world took us too seriously

we’d be out on our necks, and ours,

like Anne Boleyn’s, are extremely slender,

even if the executioner is very expert.

We are a clean and well-behaved lot,

don’t need a leper’s bell,

but keep our badges polished

just in case we recognise our kind.

I’m introspective. What are you?

Oh, me, comes the reply. I’m just a bird

on a withered tree, singing.

Elizabeth Bartlett was born in 1924 and died early this summer. I discovered her through a piece in the paper and really enjoyed the poem there. Before she died, a major retrospective, drawing on more than 50 years of her writing was published – Two Women Dancing: New and Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Publishing) – emerged in 1995. This poem is from that collection, and also appears in a new anthology, We Have Come Through: 100 Poems Celebrating Courage in Overcoming Depression and Trauma, edited by Peter Forbes. The volume celebrates the 10th anniversary of Survivors’ Poetry, a UK charity founded to help support the mental health community.

Poetry Friday is today at the mentally balanced blog of A Year of Reading.

Poetry Friday: Neurotic

Join the Club

Flashing my neurotic’s badge I dare them

to ask me for my license. I don’t look

much different from the rest of them –

in fact, a certain calm emanates.

I’ve seen and felt so much I’m like

a bird on a withered tree, singing.

Diagnosis proclaims me not psychotic.

Sensitive and shy, this patient

has symptoms of depression with a touch

of anxiety and agoraphobia.

We’re not supposed to read our files,

but just the same, we do.

It’s really quite interesting

the way the doctors size us up,

and there’s a preening of feathers,

and comparing of notes.

Sensitive and shy sounds quite genteel,

as opposed to schizoid, paranoid

and abusive, anorexic, manic,

or simply mad.

I’m really quite presentable – not that

you could take me anywhere – I tend

to shiver and sweat in open spaces.

Still, I only suffer from a disease

as common as a cold, ubiquitous

as birds on withered trees, singing.

Poetry as therapy is not quite acceptable.

Myself, I find it more effective

than valium. It’s just that if

the literary world took us too seriously

we’d be out on our necks, and ours,

like Anne Boleyn’s, are extremely slender,

even if the executioner is very expert.

We are a clean and well-behaved lot,

don’t need a leper’s bell,

but keep our badges polished

just in case we recognise our kind.

I’m introspective. What are you?

Oh, me, comes the reply. I’m just a bird

on a withered tree, singing.

Elizabeth Bartlett was born in 1924 and died early this summer. I discovered her through a piece in the paper and really enjoyed the poem there. Before she died, a major retrospective, drawing on more than 50 years of her writing was published – Two Women Dancing: New and Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Publishing) – emerged in 1995. This poem is from that collection, and also appears in a new anthology, We Have Come Through: 100 Poems Celebrating Courage in Overcoming Depression and Trauma, edited by Peter Forbes. The volume celebrates the 10th anniversary of Survivors’ Poetry, a UK charity founded to help support the mental health community.

Poetry Friday is today at the mentally balanced blog of A Year of Reading.

But What's A Boy Sound Like?

In actual BOOK news, On the Guardian Book blog, UK children’s author Anthony McGowan talks about toilet humor encouraging kids to read. Middle graders are a tough audience — and the gross factor matches well with his book, HELLBENT. Not sure if this one is slated for a U.S. release any time soon. (And how much do you want to bet they’d have to change the name?) One thing I do have to say is that I’m glad McGowan doesn’t say he encourages BOYS to read by using toilet humor. He said, “KIDS.” As in, girls too.

Liz takes a moment to wish that those people who whine about “there are no good boy books anymore,” and “whatever happened to strong female protagonists” could have a booklist exchange. I’m in full agreement that I don’t believe in “Boy Books” and “Girl Books.” There are certainly some things which have more appeal to guys or girls, but it’s a slippery slope trying to divide books by gender.

Brian F., in the comments brings up another good question for writers constantly wondering if their characters sound genuine. When a female is writing a male character and asks the question, “Does this sound like a boy,” what’s the right answer? “What,” pray tell, Brian F. wants to know, “does a boy sound like?”

That question echoed into my brain and brought me to something else: dominant culture assumption in novels, or how to make a character “sound black.” Anyone want to touch that with a ten foot pole?

No?

I’ve just spent a lot of time in the past week doing what my editor calls “polishing,” which is making sure a character’s country-flavored drawl and Southern colloquialisms are absolutely readable to the average person. Even as a minority, I had no one to ask if my character sounded appropriately ethnic or not — yet there’s always the niggling suspicion that maybe my version isn’t the “right” one.

Is the characterization that I did enough? Despite the fact that I didn’t mention coffee, mocha, chocolate, cinnamon or anything else edible in reference to her, do you think readers will understand that she has an African American ancestry?

Perhaps the only thing that can be said on the “boy” or the “black” issue is this: no one’s got the final word on anyone else’s perception. No one is the authority. Girl, boy, black, blue, go with what you know, do your best to depict things as you hear and see them, and you should be fine.

Really.

There will always be someone who disagrees, who thinks you didn’t do enough, who wants to point out you didn’t do it “right.” Like so many other things in the writing life, one just has to take that in stride.


New poverty estimates from the U.S. Census Bureau’s Current Population Survey indicate that about 13 percent of people nationwide were living in poverty in 2005. However, estimates from the American Community Survey (or ACS, a nationwide annual survey of households conducted by the Census Bureau) show that poverty rates in 2005 varied widely around the country, from less than 8 percent in New Hampshire to 21 percent in Mississippi. The ACS estimates also show that seven states had statistically significant increases in their child poverty rates between 2004 and 2005.

And now for a word from Colleen:

If you don’t read about kids in your economic strata who make it, who study great subjects, or build great things, or create great art, then you don’t think you can either. If you don’t see success for those from “your world” reflected on tv or in movies or in books then you will come to believe that certain – or maybe all – levels of success are not possible for you.

You will never be rich enough to be anything.

Can it be said any more clearly that all young adults need to see themselves reflected in the literature they read? Though I am personally hesitant about titles which glorify violence and no copy-editing urban lit arguably reflects a socio-economic group that should also be represented. Definitely something to consider. Go, read Chasing Ray, and put in your two cent’s worth.

But What’s A Boy Sound Like?

In actual BOOK news, On the Guardian Book blog, UK children’s author Anthony McGowan talks about toilet humor encouraging kids to read. Middle graders are a tough audience — and the gross factor matches well with his book, HELLBENT. Not sure if this one is slated for a U.S. release any time soon. (And how much do you want to bet they’d have to change the name?) One thing I do have to say is that I’m glad McGowan doesn’t say he encourages BOYS to read by using toilet humor. He said, “KIDS.” As in, girls too.

Liz takes a moment to wish that those people who whine about “there are no good boy books anymore,” and “whatever happened to strong female protagonists” could have a booklist exchange. I’m in full agreement that I don’t believe in “Boy Books” and “Girl Books.” There are certainly some things which have more appeal to guys or girls, but it’s a slippery slope trying to divide books by gender.

Brian F., in the comments brings up another good question for writers constantly wondering if their characters sound genuine. When a female is writing a male character and asks the question, “Does this sound like a boy,” what’s the right answer? “What,” pray tell, Brian F. wants to know, “does a boy sound like?”

That question echoed into my brain and brought me to something else: dominant culture assumption in novels, or how to make a character “sound black.” Anyone want to touch that with a ten foot pole?

No?

I’ve just spent a lot of time in the past week doing what my editor calls “polishing,” which is making sure a character’s country-flavored drawl and Southern colloquialisms are absolutely readable to the average person. Even as a minority, I had no one to ask if my character sounded appropriately ethnic or not — yet there’s always the niggling suspicion that maybe my version isn’t the “right” one.

Is the characterization that I did enough? Despite the fact that I didn’t mention coffee, mocha, chocolate, cinnamon or anything else edible in reference to her, do you think readers will understand that she has an African American ancestry?

Perhaps the only thing that can be said on the “boy” or the “black” issue is this: no one’s got the final word on anyone else’s perception. No one is the authority. Girl, boy, black, blue, go with what you know, do your best to depict things as you hear and see them, and you should be fine.

Really.

There will always be someone who disagrees, who thinks you didn’t do enough, who wants to point out you didn’t do it “right.” Like so many other things in the writing life, one just has to take that in stride.


New poverty estimates from the U.S. Census Bureau’s Current Population Survey indicate that about 13 percent of people nationwide were living in poverty in 2005. However, estimates from the American Community Survey (or ACS, a nationwide annual survey of households conducted by the Census Bureau) show that poverty rates in 2005 varied widely around the country, from less than 8 percent in New Hampshire to 21 percent in Mississippi. The ACS estimates also show that seven states had statistically significant increases in their child poverty rates between 2004 and 2005.

And now for a word from Colleen:

If you don’t read about kids in your economic strata who make it, who study great subjects, or build great things, or create great art, then you don’t think you can either. If you don’t see success for those from “your world” reflected on tv or in movies or in books then you will come to believe that certain – or maybe all – levels of success are not possible for you.

You will never be rich enough to be anything.

Can it be said any more clearly that all young adults need to see themselves reflected in the literature they read? Though I am personally hesitant about titles which glorify violence and no copy-editing urban lit arguably reflects a socio-economic group that should also be represented. Definitely something to consider. Go, read Chasing Ray, and put in your two cent’s worth.

But What’s A Boy Sound Like?

In actual BOOK news, On the Guardian Book blog, UK children’s author Anthony McGowan talks about toilet humor encouraging kids to read. Middle graders are a tough audience — and the gross factor matches well with his book, HELLBENT. Not sure if this one is slated for a U.S. release any time soon. (And how much do you want to bet they’d have to change the name?) One thing I do have to say is that I’m glad McGowan doesn’t say he encourages BOYS to read by using toilet humor. He said, “KIDS.” As in, girls too.

Liz takes a moment to wish that those people who whine about “there are no good boy books anymore,” and “whatever happened to strong female protagonists” could have a booklist exchange. I’m in full agreement that I don’t believe in “Boy Books” and “Girl Books.” There are certainly some things which have more appeal to guys or girls, but it’s a slippery slope trying to divide books by gender.

Brian F., in the comments brings up another good question for writers constantly wondering if their characters sound genuine. When a female is writing a male character and asks the question, “Does this sound like a boy,” what’s the right answer? “What,” pray tell, Brian F. wants to know, “does a boy sound like?”

That question echoed into my brain and brought me to something else: dominant culture assumption in novels, or how to make a character “sound black.” Anyone want to touch that with a ten foot pole?

No?

I’ve just spent a lot of time in the past week doing what my editor calls “polishing,” which is making sure a character’s country-flavored drawl and Southern colloquialisms are absolutely readable to the average person. Even as a minority, I had no one to ask if my character sounded appropriately ethnic or not — yet there’s always the niggling suspicion that maybe my version isn’t the “right” one.

Is the characterization that I did enough? Despite the fact that I didn’t mention coffee, mocha, chocolate, cinnamon or anything else edible in reference to her, do you think readers will understand that she has an African American ancestry?

Perhaps the only thing that can be said on the “boy” or the “black” issue is this: no one’s got the final word on anyone else’s perception. No one is the authority. Girl, boy, black, blue, go with what you know, do your best to depict things as you hear and see them, and you should be fine.

Really.

There will always be someone who disagrees, who thinks you didn’t do enough, who wants to point out you didn’t do it “right.” Like so many other things in the writing life, one just has to take that in stride.


New poverty estimates from the U.S. Census Bureau’s Current Population Survey indicate that about 13 percent of people nationwide were living in poverty in 2005. However, estimates from the American Community Survey (or ACS, a nationwide annual survey of households conducted by the Census Bureau) show that poverty rates in 2005 varied widely around the country, from less than 8 percent in New Hampshire to 21 percent in Mississippi. The ACS estimates also show that seven states had statistically significant increases in their child poverty rates between 2004 and 2005.

And now for a word from Colleen:

If you don’t read about kids in your economic strata who make it, who study great subjects, or build great things, or create great art, then you don’t think you can either. If you don’t see success for those from “your world” reflected on tv or in movies or in books then you will come to believe that certain – or maybe all – levels of success are not possible for you.

You will never be rich enough to be anything.

Can it be said any more clearly that all young adults need to see themselves reflected in the literature they read? Though I am personally hesitant about titles which glorify violence and no copy-editing urban lit arguably reflects a socio-economic group that should also be represented. Definitely something to consider. Go, read Chasing Ray, and put in your two cent’s worth.