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May. 15th, 2009 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Several months ago, right before RaceFail v.1.1 (though it's not really 1.1, of course, it never is) broke out, I checked Elizabeth Bear's Whiskey and Water out of the library to read.
A week or two later, Elizabeth Bear and a great many other people said things publicly that ranged from 'just oblivious' to 'incredibly hurtful and damaging', the internet erupted, and the book sat on my shelf while I absently hit 'renew' on the library website. I really hate returning books to the library unread, for the same reason I hate not finishing books, even really terrible ones - it kicks my Readerly Pride, and feels like admitting defeat. At the same time -
- well, okay, here's the thing. I don't actually feel much of an emotional difficulty in reading books by authors who exhibit awful behavior as people. This is not to say that I would not be devastated if someone told me that Diana Wynne Jones wakes up every morning and hunts down puppies to kick (please, nobody tell me this!), but - I don't know, there is a level on which I kind of expect authors to be jerks. For this, I suspect I have my mother to thank. My mother loves posing her children with ethical dilemmas - seriously, it is one of her main forms of entertainment - so one day when I was around ten or eleven she decided to tell me all about Roald Dahl's anti-Semitism and other unpleasant behaviors and poke at the Is It Okay To Read The Works Of Awful And Prejudiced People question for the next hour or so. My answer, as far as I can remember, has always been 'yes', and this is only partly because unfortunately, once you take away the awful people, there are not all that many great authors left. Roald Dahl was a pretty blatant anti-Semite, but that doesn't mean Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a bad book. T.S. Eliot was the protegee of Ezra Pound, who literally hung out with Nazis (did I just Godwin's Law myself? I am sorry, it is historical fact!) but The Hollow Men is still an amazing poem. For me - I am not saying this for anyone else, because everyone absolutely has the right to be outraged and hurt enough by author conduct not to read their books, and I know my own privilege in having the option not to be - I don't want to stop reading their books because I know these things. I want to read their books, knowing these things, and be more aware of the subtext of what I've been missing before, and learn from the good and the bad. I don't think there's a book that doesn't have something to teach you, as long as you read it thinking.
(ETA:
bravecows rightly points out that it looks a bit as if I am lauding myself here for Knowing How To Rise Above It All, and by implication putting down the people who do intend to make this a reason not to read the books of authors whose words and actions have been hurtful. I really don't want to do that, and I very much apologize if it comes off that way.)
But there is definitely a difference between dead authors who no longer have the capability to learn from their mistakes, and living ones who are still in the process of making them. There is a definite problem with financially endorsing the problematic authors, rather than the ones who far too often get crowded out from the shelves, as
nextian recently pointed out (I am sure she has not been the only one to do so, but it was a good post on my flist, so I link it). I am a cheapskate and get the vast majority of my books out of the library, so for me it is not so much the question of financial endorsement, but the thing is - I write about books in a public space. And while it is a very small-scale public space, and I am not self-important enough to think that what I post about matters to more than a handful of people, there is still a very weird feeling that what I read is not just for me anymore. It's a public statement, and one that could be read as approval of things I very much don't wish to approve.
I could have read Whiskey and Water and just not mentioned it - no one was stopping me - but that feels very much like cheating. Eventually I did decide to read it, and to post on it, and to make sure as I did both to keep a sharp eye out for all the issues that were brought up, that I didn't notice in reading the first book of the duology, that I want to make sure I notice now. And I'll be honest and say that part of the reason I'm doing it now is because of recent events, and because I do plan to continue the Vorkosigan reread I just started on, and I'd rather put this whole screed before an Elizabeth Bear book than a Bujold book, because I like her work quite a bit more and consider her offenses to be significantly less. But I just want to say one thing before I actually launch into talking about the book, and that is this - as I said, I get almost all my books out of the library. And I don't think I should feel guilty for checking any book, no matter who the author is, out of the library - or for enjoying it either. But I do want to make sure I know who my money is supporting, and going forward, I am going to try to make sure that instead of checking everything out of the library, or buying super-cheap through discount sellers on amazon, I actually put my money where my mouth is when it comes to the books and the authors I actually want to support first-hand and encourage publishers to keep printing and bookstores to start stocking. The ones who aren't on the shelves, and deserve to be.
Okay, so there is no question but that Elizabeth Bear is a talented writer. That said, totally regardless of other issues, I'm not sure that I will be reading any more of her work. Some of the characters are very cool and the combinations of different myths and legends is very interesting, and all this was enough to get me reading Whiskey and Water after I read Blood and Iron (and oh man, I am looking at the comments on that post and feeling decidedly rueful; DAYS OF INNOCENCE), but there's something - maybe the word I want is 'flashy' about the whole universe that makes it hard for me to connect to. Harder in this one, I think, than in the last one, though I don't know how much of that is the book itself and how much I have been influenced by recent events. The duology is set in New York City, and while I can only call myself a sort-of native New Yorker, her New York doesn't feel like a home I recognize. It feels like a punk-rock stage set. I'm not saying that's necessarily a bad thing depending on your style, but the kind of magic-writing that most appeals to me is the kind that feels ordinary and real and human, and while Bear does have moments of 'look, these are ordinary people! Look, they are having a nice cup of tea!' they feel almost tacked-on and obligatory - like she's trying too hard at them before she plunges back into the glamor.
Also I had no idea what was going on with any of the political factions in the last third of the book, but possibly I am just dim.
As for the hot-button issues - okay. Once again, I don't know if it's actually worse in this book, or if I did not just pick up on it last time, but . . . yeah, the treatment of Whiskey is really really problematic. I thought, going into this, that because he was in the title he would have more agency and focus this time around, but no. He's a slave who is in love with his mistress and shirking his duties for her, and he is deliberately coded black, and he is also deliberately coded as an animal, and I was wincing the whole way through as regards that. Of the four other chromatic characters in the book, two of them - Kadiska and Bunyip - are also coded as animal-like, but to be fair, several of the white characters are as well (wolves, swans, etc.) The bigger problem as regards Bunyip is the token addition of what I believe is Australian Aboriginal myth, and then having it be completely superceded by all the white European fairy Arthur dragons etc. mythology.
I will say in fairness, however, that in Carel and Don Bear has two very important characters of color that I liked a lot and that seemed to me to be relatively well-handled, although I am far from an authority on the subject. Carel, especially, was very cool as a lesbian Pacific Islander with agency and power who got her happy ending, and also got lots of viewpoint time. And Don I just liked as a character. He was so comparatively sane!
Good lord, this is a massive post. I'm sorry, guys. Obviously, anyone is free to comment and tell me if I've said something idiotic, as I know it is very likely I have.
A week or two later, Elizabeth Bear and a great many other people said things publicly that ranged from 'just oblivious' to 'incredibly hurtful and damaging', the internet erupted, and the book sat on my shelf while I absently hit 'renew' on the library website. I really hate returning books to the library unread, for the same reason I hate not finishing books, even really terrible ones - it kicks my Readerly Pride, and feels like admitting defeat. At the same time -
- well, okay, here's the thing. I don't actually feel much of an emotional difficulty in reading books by authors who exhibit awful behavior as people. This is not to say that I would not be devastated if someone told me that Diana Wynne Jones wakes up every morning and hunts down puppies to kick (please, nobody tell me this!), but - I don't know, there is a level on which I kind of expect authors to be jerks. For this, I suspect I have my mother to thank. My mother loves posing her children with ethical dilemmas - seriously, it is one of her main forms of entertainment - so one day when I was around ten or eleven she decided to tell me all about Roald Dahl's anti-Semitism and other unpleasant behaviors and poke at the Is It Okay To Read The Works Of Awful And Prejudiced People question for the next hour or so. My answer, as far as I can remember, has always been 'yes', and this is only partly because unfortunately, once you take away the awful people, there are not all that many great authors left. Roald Dahl was a pretty blatant anti-Semite, but that doesn't mean Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a bad book. T.S. Eliot was the protegee of Ezra Pound, who literally hung out with Nazis (did I just Godwin's Law myself? I am sorry, it is historical fact!) but The Hollow Men is still an amazing poem. For me - I am not saying this for anyone else, because everyone absolutely has the right to be outraged and hurt enough by author conduct not to read their books, and I know my own privilege in having the option not to be - I don't want to stop reading their books because I know these things. I want to read their books, knowing these things, and be more aware of the subtext of what I've been missing before, and learn from the good and the bad. I don't think there's a book that doesn't have something to teach you, as long as you read it thinking.
(ETA:
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But there is definitely a difference between dead authors who no longer have the capability to learn from their mistakes, and living ones who are still in the process of making them. There is a definite problem with financially endorsing the problematic authors, rather than the ones who far too often get crowded out from the shelves, as
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
I could have read Whiskey and Water and just not mentioned it - no one was stopping me - but that feels very much like cheating. Eventually I did decide to read it, and to post on it, and to make sure as I did both to keep a sharp eye out for all the issues that were brought up, that I didn't notice in reading the first book of the duology, that I want to make sure I notice now. And I'll be honest and say that part of the reason I'm doing it now is because of recent events, and because I do plan to continue the Vorkosigan reread I just started on, and I'd rather put this whole screed before an Elizabeth Bear book than a Bujold book, because I like her work quite a bit more and consider her offenses to be significantly less. But I just want to say one thing before I actually launch into talking about the book, and that is this - as I said, I get almost all my books out of the library. And I don't think I should feel guilty for checking any book, no matter who the author is, out of the library - or for enjoying it either. But I do want to make sure I know who my money is supporting, and going forward, I am going to try to make sure that instead of checking everything out of the library, or buying super-cheap through discount sellers on amazon, I actually put my money where my mouth is when it comes to the books and the authors I actually want to support first-hand and encourage publishers to keep printing and bookstores to start stocking. The ones who aren't on the shelves, and deserve to be.
Okay, so there is no question but that Elizabeth Bear is a talented writer. That said, totally regardless of other issues, I'm not sure that I will be reading any more of her work. Some of the characters are very cool and the combinations of different myths and legends is very interesting, and all this was enough to get me reading Whiskey and Water after I read Blood and Iron (and oh man, I am looking at the comments on that post and feeling decidedly rueful; DAYS OF INNOCENCE), but there's something - maybe the word I want is 'flashy' about the whole universe that makes it hard for me to connect to. Harder in this one, I think, than in the last one, though I don't know how much of that is the book itself and how much I have been influenced by recent events. The duology is set in New York City, and while I can only call myself a sort-of native New Yorker, her New York doesn't feel like a home I recognize. It feels like a punk-rock stage set. I'm not saying that's necessarily a bad thing depending on your style, but the kind of magic-writing that most appeals to me is the kind that feels ordinary and real and human, and while Bear does have moments of 'look, these are ordinary people! Look, they are having a nice cup of tea!' they feel almost tacked-on and obligatory - like she's trying too hard at them before she plunges back into the glamor.
Also I had no idea what was going on with any of the political factions in the last third of the book, but possibly I am just dim.
As for the hot-button issues - okay. Once again, I don't know if it's actually worse in this book, or if I did not just pick up on it last time, but . . . yeah, the treatment of Whiskey is really really problematic. I thought, going into this, that because he was in the title he would have more agency and focus this time around, but no. He's a slave who is in love with his mistress and shirking his duties for her, and he is deliberately coded black, and he is also deliberately coded as an animal, and I was wincing the whole way through as regards that. Of the four other chromatic characters in the book, two of them - Kadiska and Bunyip - are also coded as animal-like, but to be fair, several of the white characters are as well (wolves, swans, etc.) The bigger problem as regards Bunyip is the token addition of what I believe is Australian Aboriginal myth, and then having it be completely superceded by all the white European fairy Arthur dragons etc. mythology.
I will say in fairness, however, that in Carel and Don Bear has two very important characters of color that I liked a lot and that seemed to me to be relatively well-handled, although I am far from an authority on the subject. Carel, especially, was very cool as a lesbian Pacific Islander with agency and power who got her happy ending, and also got lots of viewpoint time. And Don I just liked as a character. He was so comparatively sane!
Good lord, this is a massive post. I'm sorry, guys. Obviously, anyone is free to comment and tell me if I've said something idiotic, as I know it is very likely I have.
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Date: 2009-05-15 07:20 pm (UTC)