Thursday, April 16, 2009

Response to Marjane Satrapi

Dear Ms. Marjane Satrapi,

I first encountered your book, Persepolis, when it appeared on the syllabus for an anthropology class on "Women and Islam" that I took in the fall of 2008. I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that it was the first 'comic book' that I had ever read. As a result, I approached it as I would any other work of literature, and was unsure what to make of its lighthearted descriptions of repressive or violent situations. When you came to speak at Scripps College on April 9th, I was also somewhat stunned to hear you say that you think of yourself as a cartoonist, not an author, and that you don't like it when people refer to Persepolis as a "graphic novel".

However, asking the question of "what is literature?" is certainly valuable. For a written work to be called "literature", it has to earn that label, or justify why it deserves to be in that category. This begs for the question "who decides what literature is?". People often forget that a system is in place deciding what makes it and what doesn't. That system needs to be constantly questioned by introducing new voices. Watching and reading are generally passive acts, but they don't have to be.

I realized that your point of view on literature probably gets ignored by many because it doesn't support exclusivity in academia. Comics get dismissed as "unsophisticated"; yet, comics speak through the language of drawings and images, which is the first language of all people, and universal in its own way. Text lends itself to more speculation, but authors get put on artificially high pedestals that often cause admirers to forget the author's humanity.

You said that Persepolis is more about history than autobiography, but I think that personal storytelling is important for bringing people of different backgrounds together. The time and place of one's life are central to one's life experience. Yet, as an American woman, when I think about women in or from the Middle East, what I most want to know about is what they have in common with me, so the autobiographical elements of Persepolis are really valuable. Maybe you didn't want to call it "autobiography" because that implies some kind of cathartic or therapeutic "need" to write the story. You seem like a strong, opinionated woman, both qualities that I admire very much.

You made several interesting points about the American media's view of the Middle East that opened my eyes. For example, when you asked whether "values" such as love and family exist everywhere, and my first instinct was to answer "yes, they do"; and yet many people talk about the "culture clash" as if the values of East and West, or Muslims and Christians had nothing in common. This creates unfair demonization of Muslims, creating more conflict and getting us nowhere. If the only real division in the world exists between fanatics and non-fanatics, we would be much better off focusing on education and alleviating the economic need that often drives people toward resentment and intolerance.

I wish that I'd had the courage to ask you more questions about the role of gender in Persepolis, and what you meant when you said that comics are not a genre, but a medium. You did mention that one motivation for creating your book was the fact that there are very few female characters in comics to relate to. The roles, viewpoints, and feelings of women from Muslim countries is a popular topic for debate, but information and stories from a primary source seem to be rare. Of course, you aren't expected to represent such a large demographic, but one voice is better than none at all.

Although you stated that you would like readers to approach Persepolis as a comic and not as literature, I'm going to agree to disagree on that point. I feel that it's appropriate to approach it as a book, because the literary world needs to be exposed to more stories by women writing about themselves. Also, people from the Middle East offering a different perspective on their homelands than the mass media need to be heard, and Persepolis contributes to a positive culture in both ways.

Sincerely,
Claire Palermo

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Slam Poetry: Daniel José Custódio

Dear Daniel José Custódio,
I just wanted to let you know how strongly and passionately your performance at Pitzer College affected me. I had no idea what to expect when I came to see your performance because I had never seen a slam poetry presentation before. To be honest, I came for a literature assignment. I sat there with my notebook open, prepared to take notes, when I found that I simply could not. The power of your words and the emotions behind them had me, to say the least, mesmerized.

I admired how easily you let every audience member enter into you memories of sadness and love. Your openness was beautiful and your candid behavior had my attention, well, hooked.
Though I could not relate to all of your subject matter (I grew up in Hawaii, far from the baseball hat wearing Yankee types) your messages were so clearly understandable and resonating to my age group. Know yourself, be yourself, know your name. Growing up in Hawaii, many Hawaiian names and traditions have been dumb-ed down simply for convenience’s sake. I thought of my own upbringing and feeling in your introduction about your name. The sadness I have experienced is different from yours, but it follows a similar message.

Your poem “Hooked” could mean so many things, but what it meant to me was something completely unique. Knowing that some things are going to be difficult and painful to achieve, those are ideas that a college student can understand. Being taken advantage of and allowing your self to love someone, those are definitely subjects a college student can understand.

Your poetry is beautiful, what you are doing for your community is amazing, and your talents appear to be endless. I just wanted to let you know that I have been thinking about your performance over and over again these past few days and no words can describe how I felt and how I was moved.

Yours sincerely, 
your fan Jordan Everett, Scripps College 2012

Friday, April 3, 2009

Response to Bernard Cooper (for real this time, I hope)

Dear Mr. Bernard Cooper,
As an avid Times reader, it is a Saturday ritual of mine to devour the New York Times Magazine. While I sometimes skip over articles that delve into complex economic theory, or the intricacies of professional sports, I never miss the “Lives” essays printed on the last page. These quirky and thoughtful pieces never fail to pique my curiosity and make me think. Your essay, “A Thousand Drops,” was no exception.
From the very beginning of the first paragraph, you had me roped in. I felt, that Saturday, as if I was seated at a chair in your bedroom, watching as you grappled with all the frustrations, watching as you and your partner of 25 years, Brian, carried out all the monotonous but live-saving routines. Your rich descriptions and the somber mood you conveyed evoked my compassion as well as my aggravation, (in a good way, of course.)
I confess, that when I came to hear you read from your memoir “Glitch,” I did not realize you were the Bernard Cooper of New York Times Magazine fame. Thus, you can imagine my delight when you read the piece aloud and I made the connection. I must say, I was surprised by the way you presented yourself in person. I would not have expected the author of “A Thousand Drops” to be so humorous, nor would I have expected him to re-tell such a story with so strong a presence and so unassailable a voice. I found your posture, volume, and cadence to be spot-on, and I was impressed.
More than that though, I was pleased to hear a more fleshed-out version of your story. I was quite amused by the anecdotes of the teenagers who drive down your street blasting their cell phone ring-tones, and your neighbors, Christina Aguilera’s spiky-haired wardrobe crew. I understand how all that contributed to your rising stress level! I also enjoyed your embellishment on the maddening noises, the constant din that invaded your life, and all the gadgets and commotion required to keep Brian functioning. The way you describe things, it seems no wonder you were driven to insomnia. I, and others probably, would assume that someone in your situation would crave peace and quiet. Instead, I was intrigued to hear about how you found solace in the strangest and noisiest of places.
I was very glad you brought in some “glitch” music to play for your audience. Neither I, nor anyone else present, as noted by the lack of raised hands, had ever knowingly listened to it before. You mentioned that your friends don’t share your interest in this music, and after hearing the selections you played, I can’t say I blame them. It wasn’t exactly something you snap your fingers to. Nonetheless, I concede there was something appealingly zany about glitch. I somehow appreciated the unexpectedness of the rhythm and the instrumental noises. For some reason, it struck me as perfect background music for an indie movie, and I guess that’s a good thing. And if nothing else, it is commendable that glitch artists push and explore musical boundaries.
What’s more, the oddity of this music, the seeming strangeness of your newfound taste, makes your story all the more fascinating. In your situation, all the predictably uplifting music wouldn’t cut it. Instead, the soundtrack to your care giving, and to your grief was something hopelessly chaotic, just like you felt your life was becoming. Glitch, you explained, is music based on mistakes; it is amalgamations of flawed and different noises. It seemed so appropriate, listening to you narrate your story, and hearing you play your music that this disordered sound was what made sense to you in the midst of your baffling situation. I can understand why you maintain a fondness for this music even now. It was a good lesson for me to learn, and a good lesson in general I think, that help and comfort can come in unlikely forms.
Finally, I very much enjoyed your discussion on your writing and the answers you gave to all of your questions. I was not previously aware of all the imagination that was involved in writing non-fiction, and I enjoyed hearing your thoughts on why the form of memoir is significant. Your insight into this genre was fascinating as a listener, and I’m sure it will prove useful as a reader.
In short, thank you for a wonderful event. I won’t be forgetting your reading any time soon.

Sincerely,
Carmen Blatt

Response to Bernard Cooper

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Response to Lorna Dee Cervantes

Dear Ms Lorna Dee Cervantes,

I am writing to thank you for coming to speak at Pitzer College earlier this month. I am so glad that I was able to attend the event. Until recently, I had never identified myself as Chicana and, although I am an English major, I had never really been exposed to Chicano literature. So, I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to be exposed to your writing. Because I had never read your poetry prior to hearing you speak, I did not know what to expect. However, I was surprised to see how energetic and engaging you were and I really enjoyed listening to you recite some of your poems. Although it’s been a while since I went to see you speak, your poetry has left a great impression on me.

One of the things you talked about that I found really interesting was your new collection of poems your working on, 100 love Poems to Strangers. The project of writing love poems to people you have never met is very appealing to me because I think that writing poetry is one of the most difficult things to do. I can imagine it being especially difficult when you do not have anybody to write to or write about. It was difficult enough, for me, to try to figure out whom I would want you to write a poem to. However, what interested me the most about this project is the idea of selling the poems to people. I think that selling poems is fantastic because it adds another dimension to the project. Selling the poems does not only allow people to be involved in an exchange, I think that it also encourages them to take interest in and be involved with the project. I was a little disappointed that I could not buy a poem and that I could not figure out whom I wanted you to write the love poem to, but hopefully I can buy one next time. Nevertheless, even if I cannot have a poem included in the collection I am definitely going to check out your new collection when it comes out.

Although I really enjoyed hearing all of your poems, I was very excited to hear you recite “Poem for the Young White Man…” I will also be reading this poem for my American Literature Survey course later in the semester. So, I am glad that I got to hear your own thoughts on the poem before I read it for class, especially since racism is such a difficult topic to address and even harder to analyze and discuss in a classroom setting. You said that you were once told that the poem was not a political poem because it did not offer a solution and that your response was that the poem was not meant to be political because it was about the experience and emotions that accompany racism. That statement really impacted the way that I interpreted the poem because it made the words more personal to me and allowed me to interpret it by thinking back on what I have experienced.

There were several lines throughout the poem that really stuck out to me because I think that they were really good at showing how complex the topic and the experience of racism are. One line, in the poem, that I thought was very interesting was “they are not shooting at you” in response the people’s belief that stating that there is “a war between races” is an “exaggeration”. To me, that line addresses the fact that although racism is projected to a certain group of people, being a victim of racism is an individual experience. I think this idea is also emphasized because that line also implies the idea of being isolated; the person that experiences racism is literally singled out like a target. That line also really stuck out to me because it made me think about the response that I have had to other people’s response to racism. Racism is something that cannot be fully understood and sometimes ignored by a person who is not being specifically targeted. Although I can identify with the poem as a person who has had to deal with racism at some point in my life, your poem also calls for me to put myself in the position of the “young white man,” the poem addresses, and rethink the way I perceive discrimination when I am not the person being targeted. However, the one line that I think really resonated with your statement that the poem is not meant to be political is, “Racism is not intellectual.” That line emphasizes how complex racism is and how hard it is to explain. It is difficult to find a solution to racism because at times it is hard enough to determine the cause of racism and to explain it because it exists in so many different forms and affects people in so many different ways. I really loved this poem because it is a poem that I could relate to in a way and interpret it based on my own experience, but it also made me think about how I perceive the problem of racism.

Again, thank you so much for coming to speak at Pitzer. You were amazing. My friends and I were talking about your poetry reading for days. As I said before, you were very energetic and engaging and I really enjoyed hearing you speak. I look forward to hearing you speak again in the future and I am very excited to read some of your other poems.

Sincerely,

Helen Veyna

Scripps College 2011

Response to "Book of Longing"

Dear Mr. Cohen and Mr. Glass,

I’m a student at Scripps Women’s College and I saw a performance of Book of Longing in Claremont last month. I was very impressed by this joint work. At first, I didn’t know what to expect. I had seen posters all over campus advertising the event so when my friend asked if I’d like to go, I said yes. Although I had heard both of your names before, I wasn’t familiar enough with your work to be able to picture what a fusion of your styles might entail. I thought maybe a performer would recite poetry accompanied by music and changing images. However, I could not have prepared myself for the seamless synthesis of music, poetry, and artwork that was presented during the performance.
One of the things that surprised me the most was that there were multiple vocalists. To me, this was very effective because they were able to highlight different emotions in the text. Also, when they all sang in unison, the effect was extremely powerful. I was also grateful that they were singing because I expected them to simply speak the text but their singing definitely brought out a deeper level of meaning in the text. The performers illuminated the subtleties of Mr. Cohen’s poetry through their intonation and body language. The staging was effective as well. I liked the relaxed and almost nonchalant manner in which musicians and singers entered and exited the stage. No one made a grand entrance and sometimes I didn’t even notice a performer had come onstage until he or she started singing.
I also appreciated the vast range of moods in the poetry and the way that was expressed through the music and accompanying illustrations. My favorite pieces were “You Go Your Way” and “You came to me This Morning.” I loved the nostalgia and love struck stupor invoked by the reading of “You Go Your Way.” At the same time, “You came to me This Morning,” which contains many darker elements, seemed to fit into the performance too. The coherence of the performance seemed to stem from the idea of the poems reflecting a journey through a person’s emotions and the continuously winding path that journey can take.
I think you found the perfect balance between playfulness and somberness. The artwork, music, and vocals helped give the words more life. These theatrical elements enhanced and complicated the poetry while providing a stable backdrop for the ever-shifting mood of the words. Thank you for creating such an intricate and valuable example of the relationship between words, music, and art. This performance had a haunting quality to it and definitely had a lasting effect on me.

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Natalie Gutzler

Monday, March 30, 2009

Response to Elaine Showalter's lecture on "Women Writers and American Literature"

Dear Ms. Elaine Showalter,

My name is Margot Buermann and I'm currently a student attending Scripps College. I was fortunate enough to hear you speak about your anthology of American female writers at the Pomona College campus on March 24. 

As someone who is learning about American literature and female writers in two separate classes, I found your lecture to be fascinating in terms of looking at how women fit into the list of "great literary works" from American history. I especially admire that you took the time to research these female authors because they belong to a group that has been continuously stifled and/or misconstrued over time. As you said, female American writers are so interesting to study because of the journey they collectively endured to establish respectable positions within the literary world. Even if they enjoyed relative success with the publishing of their works, they were still unable to match the "genius" of struggling male artists. Despite the hardships they faced, I found it inspiring that, even when social restraints discouraged them from publishing their works, they still chose to express themselves--regardless of what their husbands or neighbors thought. I was actually surprised to learn that most women didn't use pseudonyms when they wrote. Probably the most studied female authors in American literature are the three Bronte sisters, who all wrote under false names. It made me realize that there is so much more to learn about other female authors and how they formed their own career paths. 

Also, thank you for introducing me to the wonderful poet Julia Ward Howe. The selection you chose "The Heart's Astronomy" from Passion-Flowers is so undeniably beautiful, that it makes me wonder how anyone wouldn't want to look at it from an artistic viewpoint--as opposed to the more political analysis that most female writers received in the public sphere. You placed a picture of Howe next to one of Walt Whitman. The differences between how male and female writers were viewed in their time jump right out at you: Whitman, standing casually but with an upfront appearance with his shirt unbuttoned, and then Howe, sunken in her chair with black, modest clothing. It was sad to hear the story of Howe and how her husband didn't support her writing at all--instead, he made her choose between motherhood and having a career, a choice that isn't unfamiliar to women during the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. But, I'm glad that at least she was able to share some of her work with us.

You mentioned that Toni Morrison commented on a new generation of women who are no longer restricted by family or society to publish their works. I believe that it is the strength of these women you discussed in your lecture that lead modern women to have more freedom in their artistic expression. I thank you so much for introducing me to these women, like Howe, and I look forward to learning even more about them.

Sincerely,
Margot Buermann