The Naruszewicz Files: Books That Changed My Thinking on Matters Related to Race

In a previous post entitled “You Know It’s a Good Book When,” I shared with you a piece of advice once given to me by my old English teacher, Jeffrey Naruszewicz.  In short, he encouraged me to always be reading books that “pissed me off.”  Why?  Because books of this nature have a way of making you see things you never saw before.  They ask you to walk in another’s shoes.  They refuse to allow for easy answers.  And in the end, they make you a stronger person by virtue of making you a better thinker.

Thus, in this post, I offer you the first installment of “The Naruszewicz Files.”  These files are the books in my library that initiated a sea-change in my thinking on a particular subject or issue.  My honest prayer is that as you approach this list, you might seriously consider picking up at least one of these volumes in the interest of growth and honest dialog.

The Autobiography of Malcolm X (as Told to Alex Haley) by Malcolm X and Alex Haley.   This was the book that started it all for me.  Born into a predominantly white suburban culture, I was raised to believe that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was the beginning and the end of everything that needed to be said on matters of racial justice.  But when I first encountered Malcolm X as a junior in college, I immediately knew that there was so much more to be said.  X challenged everything that made me comfortable; and in the end, he taught me more about “living out faith” than almost any Christian I had ever read.  It is because of this book that I finally abandoned political science as a major and it is because of this book that I turned to the field of sociology.

Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America by Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith.  In 2001, Emerson and Smith conducted a study on white evangelical America and the issue of race.  What they found is that despite the efforts of many evangelical leaders, it is evangelicals themselves who may be partially responsible for preserving the racial chasm in modern day America.  That is not to say that evangelicals are active racists.  Instead, it evangelicalism’s focus on individualism, personal relationships and free will that prevents them from seeing the systemic problems that plague American culture.  In other words, many white Christians believe that there’s nothing that can’t be solved by the repentance and conversion of the sinful individuals.  In the end, a tough, sobering look at the modern evangelical movement.

Black and White Styles in Conflict by Thomas Kochman.  This is difficult book to put on this list.  There are clearly problems with the methodology of comparing the styles of a white, middle class population with “community blacks,” which is code for poor, urban blacks.  Nevertheless, Kochman’s contention that viewing black culture as a deviant version of the majority white culture is worthy of serious consideration and honest dialog. In the end, the book makes the list because, methodological warts and all, it changed how I think about matters related to race.  Special thanks to Dr. Alvaro Nieves, former professor of sociology at Wheaton College, who used this book as the foundation of one of the most dynamic undergraduate courses I had the privilege to take.

Race Matters by Cornel West.  First published on the one-year anniversary of the L.A. riots, West examines a multitude of topics in a series of rapid-fire essays.  Ranging from black nihilism to the dearth of black leadership, and from affirmative action to the state of black-Jewish relations, West’s biting commentary is never short of either passion or radical suggestions.  While the reader will certainly find many things to disagree with, West does a stellar job of igniting the conversation in way that makes it accessible for all to approach.

The Hidden Wound by Wendell Berry.  First published in 1970, this is an eloquent examination of the problem of race by a rural farmer/English professor – a man who has suffered as the descendant of slaves, but a man who desires to see an end to both racism and the guilt that is passed down from generation to generation.  Paying special attention to the ways in which racism has damaged the dominant white culture, this book, in many ways, reads almost  like a piece of poetry and yet, its eloquence never gets in the way of its prophetic truth telling.

Race Rules: Navigating the Color Line by Michael Dyson.  Former welfare father.  Ordained Baptist minister.  Princeton Ph.D.  While these may not be the sorts of credentials one would ordinarily cluster together, these are the credentials of Dr. Michael Dyson.  Bridging the gap between black and white communities in America, between the academy and the street, and between yesterday and today, Dr. Dyson is one of those rare intellectuals that knows how to speak the language of common sense.

So what about you?  Have you read anything on the subject of race and race relations that has changed your thinking?  Any recommendations?  I’d love to hear them. 

 

You Know It’s a Good Book When …

Twenty years ago, in my senior year of high school, the English honors teacher, Mr. Jeffrey Naruszewicz, ended the class period by going around the room asking each us what university we were planning to attend.  When it came to me, I answered, “Wheaton College,” and assumed that he would simply move on to the next student.  But he didn’t.  Instead, he stopped, turned his head to look back at me, and said this:

“That’s a good fit for you.  Just make sure you keep reading books that piss you off.”

And then he moved on.  Now some might object to the “salty” nature of his advice, but truth be told, it’s one of the best pieces of guidance I’ve ever received.  Reading books that “piss you off” means you read books that don’t agree with your understanding of the world.  Reading books of this nature means exposing yourself to other ideas that are in deep conflict with your own perspective.  It means refusing to accept the construction of “strawman” arguments in favor of reading arguments by people who have a radically different worldviews.  In the end, reading books that challenge you means becoming a life-long learner as opposed to being someone who is comfortable in the mistaken notion that the world is easily understood and categorized.

Last night, as I began a new book entitled The End of Sexual Identity: Why Sex is Too Important to Define Who We Are, I couldn’t help but think back to my old teacher.  He would be proud of my selection.  For this is the kind of book that is fearless in its orientation.  It’s the kind of book that is not afraid to take a very sharp blade to the throats of our sacred cows on both the left and the right.

Indeed, no sooner is the author finished slashing away at the “privileged status” of the heterosexual majority, when she openly assails the cultural belief that sexual desire can form the core of a human identity.  She’s looking at the right, she’s looking at the left, and she’s taking shots at everyone.  It’s an audacious book; and one that I suspect will earn its rightful place among my Top-10 books of 2012.

But that’s not really the point of this post.  The point of this post is to ask you: are you still reading books that “piss you off?”  Or have you settled into a genteel reading cycle where the books you read simply confirm what you already know to be “true?” 

 

“Calvin and Hobbes” and the Joys of Snow Sculptures

Genius comes in many forms, including a six-year old boy’s awesome ability to craft truly deranged and nightmarish snow scenes!  Oh, how we miss you and your beloved tiger, little man.

As for those of you who found yourself smiling from ear to ear, perhaps you can add this to your Christmas list.  Just click the picture, and it’ll take you right to the definitive collection on amazon.com.  Enjoy!

 

No Place for Truth and Reconciliation in “The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 4)

SPOILER ALERT:  I’ve been told I need to add a spoiler alert to these sorts of posts.  I’ve never really understood this practice, as I’ve always assumed that if I am reading something, I am going to learn something about the subject at hand.  Nevertheless, if you thought you were going to read this post and learn nothing about The Hunger Games, you have now been warned that this is not likely to be the case.  Tread carefully.

In this, my fourth and final post on The Hunger Games trilogy, I want to visit the concluding chapters of Mockingjay, the last book in Suzanne Collin’s best-selling trilogy.  For it is here that the author does her finest work; and it is here that the fog of war lifts to reveal the true worldview that has always lurked around the murky edges of the novels’ central story.  If you haven’t read any of my previous posts on the subject, I would recommend:

“The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 1)

“The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 2)

Thanksgiving, Indulgence, and “The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 3)

Now, assuming you have read the previous posts in this series, you know that The Hunger Games are a series of highly politicized novels in which the morally bankrupt people of the tyrannical government live out lives of hedonist luxury, lives that are built upon the unrelenting labor of the surrounding population.  In the final novel, Mockingjay, the masses have risen in open rebellion and the forces of the Capital are under constant siege.  Not surprisingly, a new government-in-exile has been formed; and this new government is at the forefront of the rebellion that is rapidly gaining momentum.

But then, late in the novel, when it seems that the rebels are about to win, everything goes horribly wrong.  Primrose, the younger sister of the heroine, and by far, the most innocent of anyone in this trilogy, is killed while performing an act of mercy.  What’s worse, it doesn’t appear that the Capital is behind the act.  Instead, the government-in-exile has committed this atrocity in the hopes of falsely accusing the Capital and providing one last rallying cry for the rebel soldiers.

So here, at the climax of a 1000-page story, the rebels are on the verge of victory, but the newly formed government is no more just than the government that is being overthrown.  And when faced with the opportunity to legally execute the overthrown President of the Capital, Katniss Everdeen, the heroine of the novel, opts instead to launch her arrow into the heart of the new President, thus choosing for assassination in the belief that no government will ever be just.  In the days the follow, Katniss is tried and eventually exiled back to the fire bombed ruins of District 12.  En route, she has this conversation with the new head of communications

The truth is, no one quite knows what to do with me now that the war’s over, although if another one should spring up, Plutarch’s sure they could find a role for me.  Then Plutarch has a good laugh.  It never seems to bother him when no one else appreciates his jokes.

“Are you preparing for another war, Plutarch?” I ask.

“Oh, not now.  Now we’re in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated,” he says.  “But collective thinking is usually short-lived.  We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.”

If The Hunger Games is to be praised for anything, it is commended for its remarkably consistent worldview.  For whether they are in positions of power or in positions of subjugation, people are viewed as desperately flawed and prone to violence at the slightest provocation.  Interestingly enough, the author, Suzanne Collins, even extends this flaw to her main character, Katniss.  When she is given the opportunity to stand up against the violence that has been perpetrated upon the children of the greater population, Katniss opts to vote for naked vengeance that will be extracted by putting the children of the Capital through the same horrors that have plagued her and her friends.  What is particularly interesting is the fact that Collins does not make any attempt to mask this desire for vengeance.  There are no coy references to justice or “doing the right thing.”  This is all about getting back at the one’s that have hurt you; and your satisfaction is worth the price that others have to pay.

Is there room for mercy is this world?  Is there any room for redemption?   No.  There is not.  The only lasting value that stands in the world of The Hunger Games is the ability to survive amidst a never-ending cycle of violence and retribution.

And so, at the conclusion of this series, I amend my original recommendation.  If these books were to be read solely for the purpose of entertainment, I would advise against it, for there is nothing but loss, anger, and empty grabs for power.  The worldview is so dark that I fear a non-critical mind might absorb some of the “lessons” of fatalistic nihilism.  If, on the other hand, these novels are read with a critical eye, I believe they can be of immense value in terms of discussing the ethics of an increasingly hostile world that is caught in the very cycle portrayed throughout these books.

What do you think reader?  Can you find value in books that offer nothing but a critique of society?  Or must a good writer seek to provide a solution as well?

 

Thanksgiving, Indulgence and “The Hunger Games” Triology … (part 3)

SPOILER ALERT:  I’ve been told I need to add a spoiler alert to these sorts of posts.  I’ve never really understood this practice, as I’ve always assumed that if I am reading something, I am going to learn something about the subject at hand.  Nevertheless, if you thought you were going to read this post and learn nothing about The Hunger Games, you have now been warned that this is not likely to be the case.  Tread carefully.

Two weeks ago, I received my copy of The Hunger Games trilogy.  With all three books currently scaling the heights of the bestseller list and with the first of the films due to be released this spring, I was curious to know what all the fuss was about.  Much to my surprise, these books have not only been page-turningly-good, they have also provided many unexpected critiques of a culture that is in desperate need of such criticism.  If you would like to read the first two posts, I include them here for your reading pleasure.

The Hunger Games Trilogy … (part 1)

The Hunger Games Trilogy … (part 2)

Today, I’d like to talk about the culture of indulgence.  While most of us are somewhat uncomfortable talking about this issue, there is no question that America is an indulgent nation, unparalleled in its ability to meet every whim and passing fancy of its population.  From an annual expenditure of $166 billion spent on alcohol[1] to $41 billion spent on pets,[2] we have the economic capacity to pander to our desires in a way that no country has ever possessed.  But how many of us consider the food we take in to be an extravagance?  According to Forbes magazine, one of the five most expensive “addictions” faced by Americans is the addiction to food.  Last week, we celebrated a national holiday by spending $875 million buying enough turkey to give everyone who was celebrating three pounds of meat.  According to the Center for Disease Control,[3] 34.4% of adults older than twenty are technically overweight; while another 33.9% of the adult population is technically obese.  So altogether, almost 70% of the adult American population is gorging on food, which in turn costs us $107 billion on treatment for heart disease, osteoarthritis, hypertension, gall bladder disease and cancer.[4]

Now consider this timely passage from Catching Fire, the second novel in The Hunger Games trilogy.  The context is a feast that has been thrown in honor of the Games’ champion and the novel’s heroin, Katniss Everdeen.

Every table present new temptations, and even on my restricted one-taste-per-dish regimen, I begin filling up quickly.   I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce.  Delicious.  But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things, and the idea of throwing away food, as I see so many people doing so casually, is abhorrent to me.  After about ten tables, I’m stuffed, and we’ve only sampled a small number of the dishes available.  Just then, my prep team descends on us.  They’re nearly incoherent between the alcohol they’ve consumed and their ecstasy at being at such a grand affair.

“Why aren’t you easting?” asks Octavia.

“I have been, but I can’t hold another bite,” I say.  They all laugh as if that’s the silliest thing they’ve ever heard.

“No one lets that stop them!” says Flavius.  They lead us over to a table that holds tiny stemmed wineglasses filled with clear liquid.  “Drink this!”

Peeta picks one up to take a sip and they lose it.

“Not here!” shrieks, Octavia.

“You have to do it in there,” says Venia, pointing to doors that lead to the toilets.  “Or you’ll get it all over the floor!”

“Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?”

My prep team laughs hysterically.  “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia.  “I’ve been in there twice already.  Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at the feast?”

I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply.[5]

At its core, The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mockingjay are all novels of political dissent; and as such, they have to paint a society that is worthy of rebelling against.  If they fail at that task, then the actions of the heroin and her friends are ultimately meaningless, or worse yet, wicked.  So what kind of society is it that Collins deems to be degraded and worthy of overthrow?  A society that is so overly decadent that gluttony is casually overlooked by the wealthy and privileged.  When you consider the fact that Collin’s intentionally set her novel in the ruins of North America, her critique could be more explicit or plain.

What do you think?  Do you think that the indulgences of the rich are ample grounds for political revolution?  What if their decadence come at the expense of those that scratch out meager lives in grinding, degrading poverty?

One last question … How do you think your answer might differ from the answer of someone living in abject poverty?

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[1]
http://articles.moneycentral.msn.com/Investing/Forbes/The5MostExpensiveAddictions.aspx

[2]
http://www.businessweek.com/magazine/content/07_32/b4045001.htm

[3]
http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/overwt.htm

[4]
http://articles.moneycentral.msn.com/Investing/Forbes/The5MostExpensiveAddictions.aspx

[5] Collins, Suzanne. Catching Fire (New York: Scholastic Press, 2009), 78-79.

 

“The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 2)

SPOILER ALERT:  I’ve been told I need to add a spoiler alert to these sorts of posts.  I’ve never really understood this practice, as I’ve always assumed that if I am reading something, I am going to learn something about the subject at hand.  Nevertheless, if you thought you were going to read this post and learn nothing about The Hunger Games, you have now been warned that this is not likely to be the case.  Tread carefully.

Picking up from yesterdays post, “The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 1), I’d like to continue this discussion on The Hunger Games by asking a few more questions of the text.  Let’s start with what does it mean to be human?  In other words, does our status as human beings endow us with a certain dignity?  Or are we like other animals?  Do we have moral responsibilities?  Or are we free to be whatever we choose from a moral perspective?

Once again, the answer to these questions surprised me.  I would argue that Collins actually holds humanity in fairly high regard.  While she is clearly concerned about our ability to descend into power-struggles in which we oppress our fellow man, she also paints this descent as being the descent of a few, not the descent of the masses.  The vast majority of humanity continues to struggle for survival in relatively tight-knit communities that seems to genuinely care for one another.  Now, is the “tight-knit”nature of the communities a genuine affection for one another, or is it a closeness brought on by the mutual need for survival.  That remains to be seen.

Nevertheless, humanity is shown as having a moral center.  Consider this conversation held by Peeta and Katniss, shortly before they enter the arena.

“Thinking about your family,” he asks.

“No,” I admit a bit guiltily.  “All I can do is wonder aobut tomorrow.  Which is pointless, of course.”  In the light from below, I can see his face now, the awkward way he holds his bandaged hands.  “I really am sorry about your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says.  “I’ve never been a contender in these Games anyway.”

“That’s no way to be thinking,” I say.

“Why not?  It’s true.  My best hope is to not disgrace myself and …” He hesitates.

“And what?” I say.

“I don’t know how to say it exactly.  Only … I want to die as myself.  Does that make any sense?” he asks.  I shake my head.  How could he die as anyone but himself?  “I don’t want them to change me in there.  Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

I bite my lip, feeling inferior.  While I’ve been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity.  His purity of self.  “Do you mean you won’t kill anyone?”

As you can see, Peeta is troubled by concerns greater than his own survival.  And while Katniss doesn’t necessarily understand this, you can tell from the author’s writing that she sees this as a deficiency in her heroin’s character.  As the story progresses, this is confirmed several times as Katniss pauses to engage in incredibly humane acts even though such acts endanger her own well-being.  Being human involves more than merely surviving against the odds.  Being human is an active choice to live in a way that refuses to be dragged down by the immoral actions of a depraved society.

All of this naturally leads to the final set of two, inter-related questions. First, how do we know what is right and what is wrong?  Second, what is history about?  Where is it going?

As one would expect in a novel of this nature, moral questions abound.  But was noticeably absent at every turn is a grounding for the moral choices that were made.  While Collins unmistakably wants to discuss the nature of war and violence and their effects upon children, she doesn’t tether the discussion to any moral center or transcendent source of authority.  Why is it wrong to oppress other people?  Why is wrong to live a life of luxury that is built upon the backs of others?  The renowned German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would argue that it isn’t wrong to live in this fashion.  In fact, Nietzsche would suggest that the most moral choice one could make is to have the strength of will to take that which one desires from this world.  But Collins doesn’t want to follow in Nietzsche’s footsteps.  Instead, contrary to the foundational plotline of the story, she wants to posit a fuzzy, moral goodness that lies at the heart of all people.  Yes, life is to be valued, but not because it is endowed with the image of its Creator.  Instead, life is to be valued simply because people are good and have the “right” to live.  In this sense, Collins is a direct descendent of Enlightenment thinking, and in the midst of a very dark and violent novel, she is still trying to cry out: “But we’re making progress!”

Concluding Thoughts:     

In the end, people will want to know, “Is this novel worth reading?”  Is it appropriate for young adults?  As a Christian who is deeply committed to understanding and engaging the culture around us, as a Christian who believes that we need to train our children to ask probing questions of the culture, I would argue that The Hunger Games is an enjoyable read that can serve as an excellent resource for discussions centered on the grounding of morality, political resistance (both violent and non-violent), strength in women,  and the nature of humanity.  Highly recommended for ages 14 and up.