We are back!

It’s that time of the year again and the Andrew Hook Centre of American Studies is delighted to welcome you back for the beginning of the new academic year. We have so many news to share with you, so let’s get started!

Last year this blog space was run by Tilly Dunnachie and Elisa Pesce. While we wait for new students to take over this coming session, we’ve got some great events lined up – make sure you save the dates in your diaries and keep an eye out for more information about how to register.

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Tuesday 5 October 3.00: Dr Sean Vanatta (University of Glasgow), “Where Did All This Debt Come From?” Citibank, Credit Cards, and the End of the New Deal Financial Economy

Tuesday 19 October 4.00: Yana Shtilman (Université de Paris), Breaking the Binary: The Exploration of Racial Stereotypes and Queer Identity in Robert Mapplethorpe’s Photography

Tuesday 26 October 4.00: The American Literature Book Club is back! During this first meeting we will discuss Yaa Gyasi’s Transcendent Kingdom. (Further information on the Book Club below)

Tuesday 2 November 4.00: Dr Harriet Earle (Sheffield Hallam University), The Monstrous and the Missing: Visualising the Enemy in American Comics of the Vietnam War

Tuesday 16 November 4.00: Oscar Winberg (Åbo Akademi University), “A coalition of Spiro Agnews:” Station Managers in the Political Fight over Television News

Tuesday 30 November 4.00: Ellen Bishell (University of Newcastle), Cuban Music, Global Screen: Identity, Politics, Hypervisibility, and Resistance in Seidy ‘La Niña’ Carrera’s Tumbao

And many more to be revealed in the near future! Sign up to the Hook Centre mailing list and follow our Twitter page @UofGAmStudies to get regular updates from us and reminders about our events!

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The Book Club. As last year, our American literature reading group will be meeting once a month (on Zoom) on a Tuesday, around 4.00-4.15pm, to discuss some of the too many texts which keep slipping through the cracks of higher-education curricula. Please join us for an informal and relaxed chat on our monthly title. The line-up for this first semester includes Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi (26 October), Woman Hollering Creek by Sandra Cisneros (9 November), and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers (7 December). Further updates and instructions on how to participate will follow through our mailing list and social media channels.

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Last, but not least, the Andrew Hook Centre now has a new director. Dr Daniel Scroop is Senior Lecturer in Contemporary Citizenship (History) at the School of Humanities. His research interests include US History since 1865, the New Deal, History of Capitalism, antimonopoly, politics of consumption. In addition to the rich calendar of events for the second semester, which is already underway, Dan is sorting through the list of the potential speakers for the 2022 Gordon Lecture in American Studies (here you can find a list of the previous lecturers), which will hopefully see us meeting in person, as well as online, next spring.

As always, we wish to amplify your voices through this blog space and are continually looking for contributions. If you would like to write a guest post about a book you have read, Americanist themes in your research, a conference you have attended, a trip you have gone on – we want to hear all about it! Likewise, Candice Wallace, Viola Nassi and the incoming member(s) of the book club crew look forward to receiving suggestions for additional guest speaker events.

Please get in contact by emailing UoG.AmStudies@gmail.com or on Twitter to pitch your ideas to us and contribute to widen the American Studies community in Glasgow.

We look forward to engaging with you all soon!

The Andrew Hook Centre blog & reading book teams

Event summary: Dr Renae Watchman (Mount Royal University): “Hane’, Kéyah, K’é: Stories, Land, Kinship, and Languages in Indigenous Literary Arts”


On March 16, the Hunterian Associates Project ‘Biographies of Objects’ and the Andrew Hook Centre for American Studies at the University of Glasgow teamed up to host Dr Renae Watchman (Diné) from Mount Royal University, on Treaty 7 territory in Canada.

Dr Watchman is a Diné scholar. She is originally from the Navajo Nation and is currently working and living in Canada. After providing her own introduction in the Navajo language, Dr Watchman introduced the audience to Diné (Navajo) and Dene literatures. She demonstrated how the Diné and the Dene are ancestral relatives. The Dene people are an Indigenous group of First Nations from the northern regions of Canada. The Diné and Dene languages are related. For instance, Dr Watchman demonstrated that the Navajo words for ‘water’ (tó) and ‘sky’ (yá) are similar to the words in the Dene language: ‘ti’ for ‘water’ and ‘yat’a’ for ‘sky’. Yet their respective words for ‘land’ are as different as their geographical landscapes.

In addition, the Navajo and the Dene share some or parts of the same stories, for instance, the creation stories of Tsé Bit’a’í (Shiprock, New Mexico) and how the Navajo came to settle south of the medicine line. Some of the Dene stories demonstrated that the Dene are more informed about ancestral linkages with the Diné in the South than the Diné.

 Tsé Bit’a’í (Shiprock). Credit: Bowie Snodgrass CC BY 2.0

In her current research, Dr Watchman explores the displacement of Indigenous stories and the displacement of Indigenous landscapes in visual media. Taking the example of Tsé Bit’a’í (Shiprock), she demonstrated how Hollywood uses Indigenous landscapes but dislocates them into foreign and alien spaces. This happens, for example, in the film, John Carter from 2012. Click here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Rf55GTEZ_E) to see Tsé Bit’a’í (Shiprock) at 0:25 min used as a location for a foreign space. The book manuscript is titled Tsé Bit’a’í. Mars, Myth, and Monolith: Keyah and Indigenous Stories Dislocated in Visual Media. Dr Watchman will apply Navajo methodologies and philosophies as well as Indigenous land and film scholarship in her analysis and comparison of Dene and Diné (Navajo) literary arts.

The field of Indigenous literatures is a vast and divers body of work.[1] Dr Watchman featured the works of four Indigenous writers: Lisa Boivin, Tenille Campbell, Katłįà (Catherine Lafferty), and Tunchai Redvers.

Lisa Boivin, member of the Deninu K’ue First Nation in the Northwest Territories, is an image-based storyteller, an interdisciplinary artist and a bioethics specialist at the University of Toronto. Boivin uses her images to tell stories about Canada’s colonial history from an Indigenous perspective. Her TedxTalk ‘Painting the Path of Indigenous Resilience’ from 2015 gives insights into her work: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GX_TlFeVxGk .

In her book I Will See You Again (2020), Boivin narrates through story and images her journey of grief and acceptance after she learns of the death of her brother overseas. Click here for the Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml9hU-WgW_8&t=3s .

Tenille Campbell is a Dene/Métis author and photographer from English River First Nation in Saskatchewan. Her award-winning debut poetry collection #IndianLovePoems (2017) focuses on Indigenous Erotica to humorously reclaim and explore ideas of Indigenous sexuality. Her second poetry collection Nedí Nezų. Good Medicine was published in 2021. Click here to listen to Tenille Campbell performing her piece Love Poem 2000: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43DaUvuTOHo . In this video, Tenille Campbell discusses love poems and her second book: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8SEGJ5MIeA . To learn more about Tenille and her work, have a look at her personal website: http://www.tenillecampbell.com/ .

Katłįà (Catherine Lafferty) is a member of the Yellowknives Dene First Nation in the Northwest Territories. Her first book is a memoir called Northern Wildflower (2018), published under the name Catherine Lafferty. In her memoir, Lafferty tells her story of growing up as a Dene woman in Canada’s North. Her second book Land-Water-Sky / Ndè-Ti-Yat’a (2020) is also set in Canada’s North and spans across time and space. Each chapter focuses on a different character who are connected to each other in the end. It touches upon various topics, ranging from domestic violence to the foster system. Click here to listen to Catherine Lafferty and her life experiences: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcjoQb_ItU4 .

Tunchai Redvers, also known as White Feather Woman, is a two-spirit poet and social justice warrior. She is Dene and Métis and a member of the Deninu K’ue First Nation in the Northwest Territories. Her first book is a poetry and prose collection called Fireweed (2019). Her book explores the trauma and the experience of growing up as young Indigenous, two-spirit intergenerational residential school survivor. Click here to listening to Tunchai Redvers reading a selection of poems from Fireweed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtc56jfkGe4 .

Biographical Note

Tódich’íi’nii éínishłị dóó Kinya’áanii báshíshchíín. Tsalagi éí da shichei dóó Táchii’nii éí da shinálí. Dr. Watchman (Diné) is Bitter Water born for Towering House. Her chei was Bird Clan (Cherokee), and her nálí was Red Running Through the Water clan. She is an associate professor of English and Indigenous Studies at Mount Royal University in Treaty 7 territory. In July 2021, Dr Watchman will be joining the faculty at McMaster University, located on the traditional territories of the Haudenosaunee and Mississauga Nations and, within the lands protected by the “Dish With One Spoon” wampum agreement. Dr. Watchman developed and teaches the following courses: North American Indigenous Literatures, Indigenous Film, and MRU’s first international Indigenous Studies Field School, taught entirely on the Big Island of Hawai‘i:  “Aloha ‘Āina & Activism,” which she taught with Dr. Robert Alexander Innes (U Sask). Dr. Watchman’s recent publications include:

Books

2019   Indianthusiasm: Indigenous Responses. Editors Hartmut Lutz, Florentine Strzelczyk, Renae Watchman. Wilfrid Laurier University Press.

2019   Seminar: A Journal of Germanic Studies, special issue of Indigenous and German Studies, Editors Renae Watchman, Carrie Smith, and Markus Stock, vol. 55, no. 4, University of Toronto Press.

Book Chapters

2019   “Transforming Toxic Indigenous Masculinity: A Critical Indigenous Masculinities & Indigenous Film Studies Approach to Drunktown’s Finest” co-author, Robert Alexander Innes. Visions of the Heart. Oxford University Press, October 2019, pp. 126-141.

2016   “Response: Imagining Beyond Images and Myths.” Learn, Teach, Challenge: Approaching Indigenous Literatures. Editors Deanna Reder and Linda Morra. Ontario: Wilfred Laurier Press, 2016, pp. 215-220.

2013   “Afterword.” Tribal Fantasies: Native Americans in the European Imagination 1900-present. Editors James Mackay and David Stirrup. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013, pp. 211-225.

2005   “Powwow Overseas: The German Experience.” Powwow. Editors Clyde Ellis, et. al.

Journal Articles

2020   “Reel Restoration in Drunktown’s Finest.” Native American and Indigenous Studies Journal (NAIS). Editors Kelly S. McDonough and Tsianina Lomawaima. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 7(2) (Fall 2020): pp. 29-54.

2019   “Introduction: Transdisciplinary Relationship Building: Indigenous and German Studies.” with Carrie Smith and Markus Stock (co-Editors). Seminar: A Journal of Germanic Studies, special issue of Indigenous and German Studies, vol. 55, no. 4, 2019, pp. 309-327.

2018   “Teaching and Contextualizing Indigenous Literatures: A Focus on Fourth World Literatures.” Special Issue on “Teaching Native Literature and Culture in Europe.” Literatur in Wissenschaft und Unterricht. Editors Birgit Däwes and Kristina Baudemann. Kiel University, XLIX, Spring 2018, pp. 65-72.

https://www.mtroyal.ca/ProgramsCourses/FacultiesSchoolsCentres/Arts/Departments/Humanities/Faculty/RenaeWatchman.htm

Twitter: @RenaeWatchman


[1] To learn more about Indigenous literatures, see Daniel Heath Justice: Why Indigenous Literatures Matter and Aubrey Jean Hanon: Literatures, Communities, and Learning.

‘That Time At My Brother’s Wedding’: An Attempt To Make Sense Of The American Surreal

By Elisa Pesce; photo credit Xandrr

The Hook Centre for American Studies’ book club kicked off in 2021 with one of the most beautiful books I have read over the last few years: Laila Lalami’s The Other Americans. With the refined, powerful prose of the Moroccan American writer still fresh in my mind, I approached another of Lalami’s works. It was part of a collection of very short stories whose publication I had been waiting for in trepidation for some time. The Decameron Project was launched in March 2020, when the editors of the New York Times Magazine decided to try and put into words the shock and sorrow generated by the recent outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic:

‘WE ASKED 29 AUTHORS TO WRITE NEW SHORT STORIES INSPIRED BY THE MOMENT. WE WERE INSPIRED BY GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO’S “THE DECAMERON,” WRITTEN AS THE PLAGUE RAVAGED FLORENCE IN THE 14TH CENTURY’

the project’s website recites. The collection got published in Italy at the end of January this year and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to read those stories – available online for NYTM subscribers only. Each being just a couple of pages long, they fitted perfectly in my busy schedule. This is how I discovered a precious mosaic of non-mainstream American moments, a miniaturist representation of lives which seem to be haphazardly kept in check by either luck or misfortune, in a world on the verge of chaos. The NYTM couldn’t express this feeling in a better way than they did on their website, where each story is ‘hidden’ under a card – author’s name on recto, quotation or stylized illustration on verso. In order to read, you have to flip the card with a mouse hover and click on it. This reminded me of tarots in the hands of a fortune teller.

Lailami’s contribution to this twenty-first century, American Decameron is entitled ‘That Time at my Brother’s Wedding.’ As in The Other Americans, the narrator’s point of view immediately strikes the reader as unusual. The ‘story’ is told by the protagonist herself, Miss Bensaïd, and is a sort of transcript of her conversation with a stranger at Casablanca’s airport. Only, the result is literally a monologue, as the other woman’s voice is never heard. In just three pages, Lalami manages to pack an incredibly dense report of the huge difference that separates birthright American citizens from those who have immigrated; those whose skin colour or family ancestry keeps them as far from enjoying the privileges of being ‘American’ as Morocco is geographically distant from the United States. Miss Bensaïd is now experiencing this difference in terms of having the right – or better, the privilege – to go back to her home in California during a pandemic. As she explains to her unnamed interlocutor, she has been stuck in her country of origin for some weeks now, because the few operating transatlantic flights never have spare seats for residents. Only citizens are being repatriated.

Miss Bensaïd has been living in the US for many years. She is unconcernedly single and teaches IT at Berkley (her mother is so proud, as she initially wanted to be a painter… A much less ‘practical’ job – impossible not to think about Nora’s “head in the clouds” in The Other Americans!). She has returned to Morocco for her brother’s wedding. At the wedding, Miss Bensaïd is not wearing a heavy caftan, but a sleeveless dress. She regularly takes hormonal drugs to control her hot flashes and, failing to do so at the wedding, she even ends up tearing down the bride’s dress, in a desperate attempt to hold on to something while she loses her senses. She is the topic of ‘eye-widening’ (Lalami 2020: 3) conversation amongst the friends and relatives of her brother’s new wife, as they excitedly whisper with each other and the parents of the bride are ‘full of questions’ (Ibid., 2) concerning her life in America. She can hear murmurs of ‘California’ ‘Berkeley’ (Ibid., 3) … But the bride, the portrait of tradition, is ‘unimpressed’ and feels pity for her sister-in-law because ‘it must be difficult … to live so far away.’ (Ibid., 4)

Yet, all that which unequivocally sets Miss Bensaïd apart from her Moroccan family is not even remotely sufficient to make her American enough for the US authorities. We know that she has no citizenship – despite her long residency and settled position in the country. The consular officers at the airport have been rejecting her requests for an air ticket for weeks, as if being allowed to go back home during a pandemic were a matter of pure chance, a gambling game: they keep telling her that she needs to be patient, that she might have luck the next time. Ironically, luck was also what brought the protagonist there in the first place. She usually visits her country of origin in the summer, but the wedding… Her brother planned everything so that she could have no excuse not to attend… Is luck really the “deus ex machina” controlling everyone’s lives? Something we must surrender to? Miss Bensaïd’s story might seem to suggest this, but a closer look at the details of her unfortunate trip to Morocco clearly show that to other people, the ones like her silent interlocutor, luck comes naturally, in the form of a blue passport. An unmistakable, distinguishing feature.

Miss Bensaïd might not be or look ‘local’ enough anymore in Casablanca, at least not to her brother’s bride, who at some point even implied she step aside from the cameras so that the newly-weds could get a group picture ‘with Moroccans only’ (Ibid., 4). But she still knows her way around the country – things to do, places to visit, like the Ramsar site of Merja Zerga she was supposed to go to if only the pandemic hadn’t broken out… The American whom she meets at the airport, on the contrary, looks totally lost, stranded, a stranger in a strange land. How can she tell the woman is American? Well, from her hat, her backpack and the documents that she nervously holds tight to her chest. No need to be worried, she reassures her, the airport is a safe building. She should make herself comfortable, it will be a few hours before the officers show up. ‘Please, sit down. At a distance, of course. We both know the rules.’ (Ibid., 1)

Similarly stuck on the wrong side of the Atlantic, she understands the woman’s worries and uneasiness. She must have felt this way so many times before, so she offers help and moral support. She is assuaging the American woman’s worries, whilst coping with her own stress and yearning for the place she also calls home. 

Lalami, Laila. 2020. ‘That Time at My Brother’s Wedding’ in The Decameron Project <https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/07/07/magazine/laila-lalami-short-story.html&gt;

Guest Book Club Session: Aviaq Johnston’s ‘Tarnikuluk’

By Alexandra Abletshauser; featured image CC by Glen-Johnston

**TW** The short story discussed in this blog post deals with suicide. If you or some one you know is suicidal, please contact your GP, go to your local ER, or call the suicide prevention hotline in your country.

At the beginning of December, the American Studies Book Club was guest hosted by Alexandra Abletshauser and discussed Aviaq Johnston’s short story ‘Tarnikuluk’ (2014). The session is part of the programme of the project ‘Biographies of Objects’ which is part of The Hunterian Associates Programme (HAP). This post will offer a short commentary on ‘Tarnikuluk’.

Aviaq Johnston is a young Inuk writer from Igloolik, Nunavut. She is a graduate of Nunavut Sivuniksavut, an innovative post-secondary programme for Inuit students in Ottawa. She also holds a diploma in Social Service from Canadore College, North Bay, Ontario. Johnston currently lives between Iqaluit in Nunavut and Ottawa in Ontario.

Johnston has published several short stories, YA novels and children’s books. Her work features Inuit characters, culture and history. In 2014, she won the Aboriginal Arts and Stories competition with her short story ‘Tarnikuluk’. ‘Tarnikuluk’ was also awarded a Governor General’s History Award. In May 2020, she published a ghost short story called ‘The Ghost Aren’t Used to Us’ which tells the story of a ghost and a family living under the same roof. Click here to learn more about Aviaq Johnston.

Credit: Max Pixel CC0

The short story ‘Tarnikuluk’ touches upon Inuit mythology and history, and also upon contemporary social issues such as suicide, which many Nunavut communities have to deal with. ‘Tarnikuluk’ features two spiritual ravens that are common figures in Inuit mythology. One of the ravens, Tulugak, conducts the spirit of a young Inuk woman who recently committed suicide to the afterlife.

An inuksuk at Igloolik, Nunavut, Canada, CC Nunaview

Set in our time, Johnston treats in this story the difficult topics of mental health issues and intergenerational traumas of the residential schools. The government-sponsored residential schools sought to forcibly assimilate Indigenous children into Euro-Canadian society. To attend these schools, children were often removed from their families and home communities. Deprived of loving and caring families, Indigenous children suffered neglect, physical and sexual abuse at the schools. For instance, they were severely punished for speaking their languages. Without access to relevant services, traumatic experiences from residential school survivors are often passed on to their children. In the story, Little Soul’s mother is presented as ‘abusive’. Yet Tulugak points out that people are shaped by their experiences: ‘“People aren’t born evil, they are molded. Your mother suffered long and hard as a child, she doesn’t know how else to live.”’ In this way, trauma is passed on from one generation to the next. In an author’s statement prefacing the story, Johnston notes that people ‘resort to unhealthy ways’ of coping with trauma, such as ‘physical, emotional and sexual abuse, drugs and alcohol abuse, and suicide’ because there are no ‘adequate services’ available in Nunavut.

Credit: Aaron Einstein. GNU Free Documentation License v.1-2. From Wikipedia Commons : https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iqaluit_skyline.jpg

Johnston acknowledges Little Soul’s pain and her feelings of loneliness and makes space for them: ‘She wasn’t close to her siblings. Little Soul had found refuge in her cousins, but after a while, even spending time with them could not overshadow how dejected she always felt.’ Her feelings of loneliness increase after ‘her closest cousin had been flown to Ottawa by medevac for surgery from a snowmobiling accident’. However, she is unable to reach out to others, instead she has ‘to lash out ending up with ruined friendships with people who seemed to care about her. She’d wanted to hurt them before she could be hurt.’ This further increases Little Soul’s isolation which will eventually lead to her suicide. Johnston thus illustrates how people’s mental health from all ages is affected by ‘poverty and poor home environment’ as well as the lack of medical and mental health services.

The emotional impact on mental health workers and supporters is also highlighted. Tulugak who accompanies the souls to another life would feel the souls’ pains and ‘soak it all up. He became more and more tired, more and more remorseful. Tulugak was falling into an abyss of absolute depression.’ Although looking after one another is ‘rewarding and uplifting’, mental health care takes its toll as well. Tulugak’s emotional experience is a reminder that mental health workers, too, need support and care.

Despite the hardships Little Soul had to suffer from, the story highlights her spirit’s beauty and her potential for a happy life: ‘Her spirit was a mixture of bland colours that did not even begin to convey how beautiful and inspirational she had the potential to be. She had let these colours overbear her, hiding the true magenta, turquoise, cobalt, and gold of her essence.’ At the end of the story, Johnston emphasizes the healing nature of forgiveness for one’s own mental health and wellbeing. Little Soul forgives herself and those who have hurt her. Her spirit is freed from the pain and instead of the ‘bland colours’, her spirit is now ‘soaring into the sunlight’ with ‘light bearing upon her soul, taking her to new places, new life’. Johnston’s story ‘Tarnikuluk’ emphasizes that each individual is beautiful, important and cherished by the community.

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The episode ‘The Secret Life of the North’ of the podcast The Secret Life of Canada focuses on Inuit and their history in Canada.

**TW** The following video clips include mentions of emotional, physical and sexual abuse suffered by Indigenous children attending residential schools in Canada.

Click here to watch a short video on the history of residential schools in Canada.

Click here to watch a short video where Louise Longclaws, a residential school survivor, explains the impact of her trauma on her family.

Want to learn more about contemporary Indigenous literatures? Follow Indigenous bookstagrammers on Instagram:

Biographical Note
Alexandra Abletshauser is a PhD researcher in Canadian Literature at the University of Glasgow. Her doctoral research examines the use of emotions in Canadian women’s writing at the turn of the twentieth century. In her project for The Hunterian, Alexandra examines the changing narratives of Indigenous objects in European museums from the C19 to the present day. For more information on Alexandra’s research, you can visit her researcher profile and her project page ‘Biographies of Objects’.

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References

Fraser, Crystal Gail. 2020. ‘Inuit Experiences at Residential School’, The Canadian Encyclopedia, <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/inuit-experiences-at-residential-school&gt; [accessed 1 February 2021].

Johnston, Aviaq. 2014. ‘Author’s Statement’, Indigenous Arts and Stories <http://www.our-story.ca/winners/writing/5031:tarnikuluk#story&gt; [accessed 12 January 2021].

Johnston, Aviaq. 2014. ‘Tarnikuluk’, Indigenous Arts and Stories, <http://www.our-story.ca/winners/writing/5031:tarnikuluk#story&gt; [accessed 12 January 2021]

Menzies, Peter. 2020. ‘Intergenerational Trauma and Residential Schools’, The Canadian Encyclopedia, <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/intergenerational-trauma-and-residential-schools&gt; [accessed 1 February 2021].

A Festive Farewell…

Hello everyone! We hope this post finds you well and that you are taking some much-needed time to relax following this turbulent year. As 2020 draws to a close, we would like to express our sincerest thanks to all who contributed and engaged with our blog over the course of this semester, and to all those involved in the Andrew Hook Centre of American Studies – we are immensely grateful to be part of such a lively community. We will be taking some time away from the blog over the festive period, but we have exciting things planned for January (and beyond!) that we can’t wait to share with you all! 

… Don’t stop reading yet!! We have compiled links to all of the posts we released this semester – ICYMI, or if you would like to re-read a previous post! Here goes…

14th September 2020: The first post of the new academic year was released! Shelby Judge wrote on myth, Medea and Hurricane Katrina in this wonderful post, ‘Salvaging Medea: Jesmyn Ward’s Salvage the Bones. Special thanks to Shelby for being first up on the blog – what a post to start the semester!

21st September 2020: Tilly Dunnachie wrote a reflective post following her trip to Topping and Co. Booksellers in St Andrews. ‘Feeling Down about Growing Up: Elif Batuman’s The Idiot considered ‘coming-of-age’ and the many anxieties that term can induce.

28th September 2020: We had another Jesmyn Ward post from our very own Elisa Pesce! ‘Snakes, Ghosts, and a Song to the Dead: Spiritual Resistance in African America’ provided a compelling analysis of Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing.

19th October 2020: Following the Book Club’s engaging discussion of Claudia Rankine’s Citizen, we wrote a post – ‘October Book Club: Claudia Rankine’s Citizen’ – that mirrored the group’s discussion and our wonderful Book Club team (Candice, Mariane and Viola) provided a list of further resources to check out! Thank you, Book Club team!

27th October 2020: On this day we released a reflective piece by Elisa Pesce, ‘On Loneliness, Fear, and the Pandemic: Zadie Smith’s Intimations: Six Essays. This post dealt with isolation, self-consciousness, collectivity, connectedness… an apt piece for this year.

13th November 2020: After the Roundtable event hosted through the Andrew Hook Centre, Fraser Hammond wrote ‘Roundtable Reflections: The Legacy of the Counterculture and Baby-Boomer Voting Power’. This was a thought-provoking post in which Fraser reflected on the current political landscape whilst incorporating his own research on the 1960s Counterculture – bravo!

21 November 2020: In this post we teamed up with the wonderful Mairi Power following her guest-hosted Book Club session on Jennifer Egan’s Black Box. In ‘Guest Book Club Session: Jennifer Egan’s Black Box, you can find a summary of Mairi’s fascinating presentation, links to access Egan’s text, and the group’s thoughtful discussion! 

27th November 2020: Now… we think the title of this post perfectly encapsulates how we both (and so many others!) passed the time in lockdown! Deborah Snow Molloy wrote ‘Rabid Reading – Surviving Lockdown through Literature’, a piece looking at Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God and Paula Fox’s Desperate Characters, both a reflective and critically engaging post!

Read all of our posts? Looking for reading ideas? We’ve got you covered! Over on the American Studies Twitter account we released #AmStudiesReads where we shared book recommendations – go check out the hashtag!

… And breathe! It has been a busy semester, but one that has given us the amazing opportunity to platform your voices and hear all about your wonderful research! We look forward to returning next semester, but for now…

We hope you have a lovely – and restful – festive break! Be kind to yourself and take the time to re-charge before the next year begins!

Until then,

Tilly & Elisa

[Cover Image: US National Christmas Tree 2012, CC Tim Evanson]

Rabid Reading – Surviving Lockdown through Literature

by Deborah Snow Molloy; featured image CC by chaunceydavis818

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”[i]

So declares the narrator in Their Eyes Were Watching God, and what a very questionable year this has been. I’ve just entered my fourth year of part-time doctoral study, after six months of pandemic inspired fatigue. So many research plans were put off or postponed, there was home schooling and home working to negotiate, it was all so bewildering that sometimes all I could bring myself to do was curl up with a book and read. Thankfully I have an ever present “I’ll get around to these some day” pile of novels that are usually loosely connected to my thesis on female mental illness in New York fiction but not necessarily directly related.  Two of these include Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) by Zora Neale Hurston, and Desperate Characters (1970) by Paula Fox. I read the first when we were just starting to wonder what this coronavirus business was all about, and the second when we were deep in the thick of national lockdown.

It was entirely by chance that I happened to pick up two novels that deal with societal breakdown through the medium of a specific health condition – rabies. Hurston’s work follows the love life of Janie Crawford as she strives to restrain her sensuality in order to comply with community expectations in rural Florida. Nature is an elemental force to be reckoned with throughout the work, as Hurston places animals at key junctures of the plot, whilst endowing a tropical monsoon with deification. Fox, on the other hand, presents us with the troubles of Sophie and Otto Bentwood, a Brooklyn couple in crisis and seeing society reflected in the breakdown of their marriage over the course of an increasingly desperate weekend. The Bentwoods would prefer nature to be accommodating and grateful, a place of refuge and relaxation, but find the opposite to be the truth. Hurston and Fox both use rabies as a key narrative plot device, underlining the cultural significance of this disease to the North American imagination. Think Atticus Finch, Cujo, even the Littlest Hobo, who squares off against a rabid racoon on one of his adventures (Youtube it if your childhood didn’t include this delightful doggo).

Whilst the UK has been mostly free of rabies since 1902[ii], there remains a significant pool of the pathogen within the wildlife population in the US which does still result in human infection. Very few cases develop full blown rabies, but each year an average of 45,000[iii] Americans need to have the postexposure vaccinations which so terrify Sophie Bentwood “Fourteen shots in the belly. Fourteen days. And even then, there was no guarantee; you died from rabies, you choked to death.” [iv] Fox spins her heroine down an anxious path of possibilities after being bitten by a cat whilst Hurston squares up to the more fundamental realities of infection, not flinching once from the full range of symptoms, “she was beginning to feel fear of this strange thing in Tea Cake’s body.”[v]

There is something palpably uncanny about an illness which can be transmitted from animal to human, lingering undetected for some time before making its presence felt, with the power to transform its unfortunate host into something quite other. In Susan Sontag’s field defining work Aids and its Metaphors she argues that “The most terrifying illnesses are those perceived not just as lethal but as dehumanizing”[vi]. It is exactly this dehumanising effect that both Janie and Sophie fight against, each in their own very different ways.  As Sherley Anne Williams discusses in her afterword, Janie is warned about the hardships of life as a black woman early in the novel, Hurston establishing a “black-woman-as-mule”[vii] metaphor which sees Janie threatened with heavy physical labour by her first husband, and demeaned by her second “Somebody got to think for women and chillum and chickens and cows. I god, they sho don’t think none theirselves.”[viii] Rabies threatens to complete the process, a rabid dog the embodiment of all the trials Janie had been forced to overcome, “He wuznt nothin’ all over but pure hate”[ix], a dehumanizing disease serving as a metaphor for the toxicity of life for many African-American women in 1930s Florida.

As Fox strips back the veneer of the Bentwoods lives to highlight the bestiality of 1960s New York we find Sophie adrift in a world of bodily effluence. Everyone is sick, or soiled, or screaming, sometimes all three, just like the cat when Otto finally manages to catch it. Fox highlights the facile ease of their lives amidst the creeping decrepitude, “Life had been soft for so long a time, edgeless and spongy, and now, here in all its surface banality and submerged horror was this idiot event – her own doing – this undignified confrontation with mortality.”[x] It is only when Sophie is confronted by the possibility of death that she starts to regain focus, to become more human and less ‘spongy’. Her fear of the idea of rabies is a catalyst for action.

Sontag objects to the metaphor of ‘battling’ against disease, as if against an external (foreign) invader, and with valid reasons, but in both these novels the female leads do exactly that, literally taking up arms in Janie’s case. Sophie divests herself of unhealthy acquaintances whilst embracing the fact of her own corporeality, mind and body briefly united in harmony against the threat, before the mess of life again intrudes. Janie fights against the restrictions of her life, against the racism she suffers as a child and the misogyny of her first two husbands. Her last fight is against Tea Cake, her true love, who still falls into the same suspicious mindset as the disease corrupts him. It is only when she is finally alone that Janie can find peace – she weathers the storm.

I took great comfort in both these novels, despite the emotional toil of their heroines, because they both faced down the invisible threat, and emerged victorious from their confrontation with a viral infection. Sometimes we read what we need to read. Stay safe everyone.

Biographical Note

Deborah Snow Molloy is an American Literature PhD student at the University of Glasgow. Deborah’s working thesis title is ‘The Sick Apple – A Literary Geography of Female Mental Illness in Women’s New York Fiction, 1920 – 1946’, in which she is exploring the relationship between fictional representations of the New York environment and the mental state of female characters. Deborah’s wider research interests are in literary geography, medical humanities and early twentieth century American women’s fiction. For more information on Deborah’s research, you can visit her researcher profile or follow her on twitter @snowmolloy.


Footnotes

[i] Hurston, Zora Neale, (2007), Their Eyes Were Watching God, (London: Virago Press), p. 28

[ii] Warboys, Michael, “Mad Cows, French Foxes and Other Rabid Animals in Britain, 1800 to the Present” Vet Hist. (2017) Feb 1; 18(4): 543–567.

[iii] Figures taken from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention webpage https://www.cdc.gov/rabies/location/usa/surveillance/human_rabies.html

[iv] Fox, Paula, (1979), Desperate Characters, (London: Flamigo), p. 47

[v] Their Eyes Were Watching God, p.  243

[vi] Aaim p38

[vii] Their Eyes Were Watching God, p. 268

[viii] Their Eyes Were Watching God, p. 95

[ix] Their Eyes Were Watching God, p. 222

[x] Desperate Characters, p. 47

Guest Book Club Session: Jennifer Egan’s Black Box

Earlier this month the American Studies Book Club was guest hosted by our very own Mairi Power. The session opened with Mairi presenting her PhD research on Jennifer Egan before opening up the discussion for the attendees to share their ideas. Jennifer Egan’s Black Box is a science-fiction short story originally published in 2012 through a series of tweets released from the New Yorker’s Twitter account. The text was released as a series of 140-character limit instalments spanning over nine days. It can be accessed via The New Yorker webpage, or alternatively one can read it in its (somewhat) original form, as a series of screenshots, at Paste magazine. In this blog post, we have tried to replicate the book club discussion as it unfolded on the 3rd November by including both Mairi’s summary of her research on Jennifer Egan and the key points that arose from our discussion afterwards.

Mairi Power is a third year PhD researcher in English Literature at the University of Glasgow, her research explores the relationship between technology and constructions of selfhood within Jennifer Egan’s fiction. For more information on Mairi’s research, you can visit her researcher profile.

Mairi’s Presentation:

My research, and my focus on Black Box in this presentation, looks at the relationship between bodies and technology, asking how humans and books are changed by the incorporation of technologies into their bodies. In this bookclub session, I relied upon two theoretical ideas throughout my analysis to give an insight into my use of theory within my thesis. My analysis utilised Andy Clark’s idea of cognitive extension; the idea that the human mind is not limited to the material borders of the brain, but that ‘cognition leaks out into body and world’;[i] as well as N. Katherine Hayles’s prioritisation of embodiment within visualisations of the posthuman.[ii] I summarised my application of these theories onto Black Box in the phrase ‘the digitisation of bodies, brains, and books’, and discussed each stage of digitisation in detail. 

First up is the digitisation of bodies—a central theme in Egan’s text as the agent’s weaponry and surveillance equipment is embedded within her very flesh. This creates a duality of identity, as visually the spy is fully and authentically human and yet she is also a technological being, full of internal upgrades and altered anatomy. This upgrading of the human body creates an interesting in-between example of posthumanism, neither fully flesh nor fully tech, not quite an ‘entirely new systemic whole’,[iii] but certainly a step on the journey. Egan’s character thus provides a unique opportunity to chart the changing definition of the human as technology creeps into the body. 

Turning to the brain, this entire text is a cognitive exercise. No words are spoken or written, everything we read in this text is a mental log created by the agent – the thoughts are then stored within an implanted chip, and it is this log that is the black box of the text, the important piece of information that must be salvaged above all else. This black box represents cognitive data abstracted from human embodiment, a separation of brain and body. Hayles and Clark both state that dividing brain and body results in changes to what we call human identity, determining that humanity is co-produced by body and mind. [iv] Yet, Black Box does present the opportunity for a solely cognitive existence, separating thoughts from the flesh body and offering the agents the opportunity to live forever as a technological signifier:

‘Some citizen agents have chosen not to return. 

They have left their bodies behind, and now they shimmer sublimely in the heavens. 

[…] You may imagine Heaven as a vast screen crowded with their dots of life.’[v]

This digitisation of death and the afterlife echoes the idea that disembodied cognition is a different type of humanity than traditional embodiment, tying this technological immortality to the severing of the mind/body connection. 

The final stage of digitisation is the digitisation of books. This text was published via Twitter, which means that the original reader’s encounter with this text would have been entirely on-screen. So, when Hayles extends her protection of physicality to fiction, stating that: ‘because they have bodies, books and humans have something to lose if they are regarded solely as informational patterns’,[vi] we must take note of this loss of literary materiality, and ask if Black Box as a text experiences the same transformation as its character. This broken form of tweeting the text piece by piece mimics the pattern of the agent’s thoughts being recorded and uploaded to the system, which means the way in which we read the text is exactly how these thoughts would be read in the case of her demise and the opening of the black box. Additionally, posting the text online guarantees immortality in the same manner promised within the text itself: living on forever as a collection of digital data points. Therefore, Egan’s chosen platform reflects the transition from bodily physicality to cognitive immortality within her text; leading her readers to experience a new form of fiction along with a new kind of human.

To end, it is important to recognise that this text doesn’t endorse everything digital- much of the text paints these technologies as dangerous and harmful, again highlighting that books and humans share ‘something to lose’.[vii] For example, the agent’s body is damaged by the technology embedded in her flesh and personal memories are deleted from her brain in order to store data for the mission. In terms of the book body, there is something impermanent about Twitter fiction; most readers now will read Black Box on a website or pdf, which lacks the specific design elements that the text was crafted to fit. These points of loss are important to consider, along with the benefits and advantages of digitisation— there is something special and valuable about our material experiences.


[i] Andy Clark, Supersizing the Mind (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011) p. xxviii

[ii] Hayles fears that ‘embodiment can be destroyed but it cannot be replicated’. N. Katherine Hayles, How We Became Posthuman(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999) p. 49

[iii] Clark (2011) p. 37

[iv] Hayles and Clark both state that the human mind depends on the human body: Clark (2011) p. 200, Hayles (1999) p. 246

[v] Jennifer Egan, Black Box (The New Yorker, June 4th 2012), p.50,51

[vi] Hayles (1999), p. 24

[vii] Ibid.

Key Discussion Points

Narrative Perspective.

Who is speaking? This question triggered a lively discussion as the group were seemingly undecided on who was telling the story and under what conditions. We are invited throughout the text to consider the narrator – or ‘Beauty’ – as an agent but several of the book club attendees reported that they read the text as a training manual for prospective agents. This interpretation was evidenced by the prescriptive nature of the prose, the step-by-step structuring of the the text, and the repetitious statements that comprise the work, which seem to translate as instructive directions to the reader.

The Future of the American Short Story

The group identified the American short story as intrinsic to national identity and asked, ‘Where is the American short story going?’. Upon addressing the lack of serialisation in recent years, we considered Twitter fiction as a new form of serial narrative, as well as a means of rendering texts ever-more accessible to the masses. Additionally, the group contemplated the dynamic nature of Twitter fiction, as the suspense of watching the narrative unfold before your eyes in real time maximises readerly excitement.

Twitter Fiction

Next we reflected on our experiences of reading Egan’s text online, as opposed to the latterly published print edition. We considered the medium of Twitter fiction as aptly reflecting the premise of the novel, that is, technology and the ways in which we – as humans – engage with it. This led us to contemplate the poetics of Egan’s work, as we discussed the 140-character limit of a Tweet and the several lines within Black Box which carry political and philosophical weight as stand-alone statements: ‘The goal is to be both irresistible and invisible’, ‘Sunlight on bare skin can be as nourishing as food’, ‘You will reflect on the fact that your husband’s rise to prominence would have been unimaginable in any other nation’, ‘You will reflect on the fact that you must return home the same person you were when you left’.

A Psychological Approach

Despite the technological and formal implications of Twitter fiction, Black Box can still be approached from more traditional critical perspectives. One approach can be to apply psychological theories, which allow the readers to consider the traumatic experience of the postman agent/protagonist against a background rich in ‘total objects,’ above all, the sea. Throughout her narrative/instructions, the Beauty betrays an urge to ‘psychologically merge’ with the surrounding nature and return to a peaceful state of primordial unity. Far from being to the detriment of new, contemporary forms of literary analysis, such a reading emphasises the strong connection between humans and stories/narratives, which technology and the post-human might have altered but not severed.

Huge thank you to Mairi Power for hosting this book club session and to those who joined in the engaging discussion. If you missed it… not to worry! Keep an eye on the American Studies Twitter page for upcoming (virtual!) events at the Andrew Hook Centre, or for book club related happenings, the wonderful book club team can be found on Instagram @uofgamstudies.

Our next event is Professor Mary Chapman’s talk, ‘Onoto Watanna’s Japanese Kin: Re-recovering Winnifred Eaton’, at 4:15pm (UK time) on Tuesday 24th November. We hope to see you there!

Roundtable Reflections: The Legacy of the Counterculture and Baby-Boomer Voting Power

By Fraser Hammond

Note: The following article was written in the days immediately prior to last week’s election but deals with longer term issues of culture and demographic shifts. A short addendum was added just before publication addressing the outcome.

After opening introductions by the host Dr. Oliver Charbonneau of Glasgow and the three panelists (Dr. Clodagh Harrington of De Montfort University, Dr. Patrick Andelic of Northumbria University and Dr. Mark McLay of UofG), Dr. Charbonneau asked the others for their opinions on possible historical precedents to the impending US Presidential Election, referencing the 1968 election and comparisons between Trump’s ‘American Carnage’ inauguration speech and the social upheaval of the ‘60s. Against the context of the renewed Black Lives Matter protests following the death of George Floyd, civil unrest and violence across America’s cities, the comparison seems apt. All three panelists however, seemed to view the comparison to the 1968 election as erroneous. 

Dr. McLay pointed out that every election, as soon as it becomes contentious, gets compared to 1968 as it is viewed as ‘the pinnacle of all drama’ and that ‘technically I don’t see the historical comparison to this election.’ Instead he suggested that if the polls are correct and the Democratic Party wins in a landslide, then people will point to 1980 when Ronald Raegan defeated incumbent Jimmy Carter with a remarkable Electoral College vote of 489-49 and carrying all but six states. He qualified that by pointing out that ‘Joe Biden is no Ronald Raegan’, in that he is not an ideological candidate in the sense that he is a centrist Democrat so doesn’t represent that seismic ideological shift to the Right that occurred in 1980.

Dr. Harrington, agreed with the 1980 comparison in the sense that Trump, on paper, can be seen as ‘running as an outsider’ as Raegan did, to shake up the status quo or to ‘drain the swamp’ in his own words. Dr. Andelic concurred with 1980 being an interesting comparison but ideological shifts in the electorate at large are not meaningfully recognisable until years, even decades after.  Ultimately though, all three agreed that there are no true comparisons in that there has never been a candidate quite like Trump. It seems, to this literature student at least, that the closest representations to Trump have come from fiction. See President Lindbergh in Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America (2004) or even Charles Foster Kane in Orson Welles’s landmark film, Citizen Kane (1941). I would suggest that the blurring of fact and fiction is not irrelevant in discussions of President Donald Trump’s first term and re-election campaign. 

I’d like to return to the comparison to 1968 though, not because there are any direct comparisons between the two elections as all three candidates agreed, but to suggest that the ubiquity of constant political and cultural comparisons to ‘the ‘60s’ are representative of the fact that in a larger sense, the cultural divides that emerged in that decade, are still very much relevant. The divide between ‘Left’ and ‘Right’ in America, and western society in general, still contends with  issues of racial inequality, sexual freedom, recreational drug use, and the right of women to have free access to abortion. The Neoconservative reaction in the ‘80s and ‘90s were ideologically framed as rolling back the advancements made in all these areas. Essentially, the political and cultural arguments in America can be crudely divided into those who viewed the ‘60s as a decade of liberation and progress, and those who viewed them as the disintegration and degradation of the moral fabric of society.

Dr. Harrington’s story about the 2008 election is illustrative of the continuing, central importance that the ‘60s still holds in America. She relayed the story told to her by Time Magazine London Bureau chief, Catherine Mayer, who described her ‘Self hating American father’ leaving his home in the ‘60s as a protest at U.S. foreign policy, specifically the war in Vietnam, and moving to London. Dr. Harrington continued: ‘On election night in 2008, when it became clear that Obama’s victory was secure, her dad, bearing in mind he was eighty years old at the time, climbed onto the roof of his London house and unfurled an American flag he’d kept for decades.’ The pride that her father felt at the election of the fist African-American President seems to have represented a kind of redemption of American morality that had been so stained, in his eyes, by the Vietnam War.

This continuing Culture War as it has been referred to constantly in America since the early ‘90s [1] remains the political and cultural dividing line between two sides, liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, where ideology and ‘world view’[2] on the economic validity of a market economy is actually very consistent. The continuing importance of Roe vs Wade, a Supreme Court case that originated in the ‘60s, to both sides, is further evidence of the ‘60s being at the root of political considerations today, especially in the context of Trump being able to confirm three ideologically conservative Supreme Court Justices in his first term. The court is now 6-3 in favour of conservative Justices and this may have massive implications for the future of women’s right to choose if Roe vs Wade is overturned. 

This move to the Right in the judiciary is set against the background of the steady move to the Left of the majority of Americans[3]. Returning to the Round Table discussion, Dr. McLay pointed out that the Republican Party has won the popular vote only once since 1988. If Trump loses, as the polls suggest he will, that would mean the Republicans will have only won the popular vote once in eight elections. Unable to expand and diversify themselves, Dr. McLay characterised the Republicans as the party of ‘Older, whiter men.’ The only strategy that seems to have been employed to push back against this is gerrymandering and voter suppression. The largest county in Texas, Harris County, with a population of over 4 million, had ONE single drop off point for early voting and footage of long lines of, mainly Black voters in the South, have become common sight on television news channels here in the UK and in the U.S. All of which suggests to me that this situation is only moving one way and to the inevitable constitutional crises of Republican government being almost by definition, minority rule. 

Dr. McLay suggested that ‘conservatism has hit the wall in the same way that liberalism hit the wall at the end of the 1970s’. He pointed out that the generational divide reinforces this shift and that Millennials and Gen. Z now make up a larger plurality of possible voters than The Silent Generation (born roughly between 1928 and 1945) and Baby Boomers (1945-1964) combined. The problem being that the cohort of these older generations vote in significantly larger numbers than the younger.

Bill Clinton was the first Baby Boomer president and child of the ‘60s who definitely brought a  level of ‘60s cultural kudos to his Presidency, from playing saxophone on-stage with Fleetwood Mac, to smoking grass (but not inhaling!) at Oxford when he was a Rhodes Scholar there in the ‘60s. He also seems to have taken the idea of ‘Free Love’ espoused by that generation to heart too: as Crosby. Stills & Nash famously sang, ‘Love the One You’re With’. It is the Neoconservative revolution, symbolised by Newt Gingrich and the Republican’s taking back control of Congress in 1994, that has since framed this debate around whether the ‘60s were a period of liberation or a period where American values suffered a series of moral and ethical blows that need to be fought against. Sociologist Ben Agger describes the conservative push back against the politics of the ‘60s in his book The Sixties at 40:

The Right blames the sixties for all that is wrong and uses this blaming to push back the significant gains of civil rights and equal opportunity achieved in that decade.[4]

The ‘60s activist and co-author of the Port Huron Statement Todd Gitlin remarked in the ‘90s that ‘while the Right has been busy taking the White House, the Left has been marching on the English Dept.’[5] It is clear to Gitlin at least, that the frame of the ideological debate in America has been pulled continuously to the Right since the ‘60s and that the schism between American culture and political life has resulted in a rule of conservative minority.

This current Presidential campaign has seemed very light on policy and heavy on personality and Culture War. The hold that the ‘60s has on the cultural and political life of American’s remains powerful and until the younger generations use their vote to the same extent as those older generations, it will remain the centre of ideological discourse. To quote one of the central protagonists of that era, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., ‘The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’ His fellow Civil Rights leader, Representative John Lewis, who sadly died this year in July, famously said that, ‘democracy is not a state, it is an act and each generation must do its part… … use your power to make a difference in our society, make some “good trouble.”’[6]

P.S.

Biden seems to have won the election though not by the landslide that the polls suggested. The Senate will probably remain in Republican hands and that may stymy the progressive hopes of any future Biden administration. However, the percentage of young voters rejecting Trump and voting for Biden was considerable[7] and the thousands of young people filmed dancing in the streets of American cities in the last few days suggests that Dr. King and John Lewis are correct. It’s up to young people to lean into that arc and continue to make some ‘good trouble’.

Biographical Note

Fraser Hammond is a final year, part-time PhD student in the Andrew Hook School of American Studies at Glasgow and in the (slow) process of writing up his thesis. His interests include ‘60s Counterculture, Postmodernism, The history of the American Left, Bob Dylan, ‘90s cinema, geeking out about guitars and walking his Basset Hound, Ladybird. Fraser can be found on Twitter @FraserHammond.

Footnotes

[1] For interesting further reading on generational divide and Culture Wars see James Davidson Hunter’s Culture Wars: The Struggle to Define America, Paul Taylor’s The Next America and Todd Gitlin’s The Twilight of Common Dreams.

[2] Leo Marx, in a 1986 essay makes the distinction between ‘ideology’ and ‘world view’ where both socialists and capitalists differ in ideology, but share the ‘world view’ that society should be ordered around a market economy of production. Obviously, who owns those means of production is where the ideologies diverge.

[3] See the following for public opinion tracking left for topics such as Universal Healthcare, Gun Control and Drug Legalisation. https://www.kff.org/slideshow/public-opinion-on-single-payer-national-health-plans-and-expanding-access-to-medicare-coverage/

https://news.gallup.com/poll/1645/guns.aspx

https://www.drugpolicy.org/press-release/2014/04/new-pew-poll-confirms-americans-ready-end-war-drugs

[4] Ben Agger, The Sixties at 40 Leaders and Activists Remember and Look Forward, London: Paradigm Publishers, 2009 p 2

[5] Todd Gitlin, The Twilight of Common Dreams: Why America is Wracked By Culture Wars, New York, Metropolitan Books, 1995, p 1

[6] https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/jul/18/john-lewis-obituary

[7] https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/nov/05/us-election-demographics-race-gender-age-biden-trump

Bibliography.

Ben Agger. The Sixties at 40: Leaders and Activists Remember & Look Forward, London, Paradigm Publishers, 2009.

Bryant, Miranda. 5th November 2020, ‘US voter demographics: election 2020 ended up looking a lot like 2016’ https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/nov/05/us-election-demographics-race-gender-age-biden-trump[Accessed 9th November 2020]

Carson, Michael. 18th July 2020, ‘John Lewis Obituary’ https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/jul/18/john-lewis-obituary [Accessed 9th November 2020]

Davison Hunter, James. Culture Wars: The Struggle to Define America, New York, Basic Books Publishing, 1991.

Gitlin, Todd. The Twilight of Common Dreams: Why America is Wracked by Culture Wars, New York, Metropolitan Books, 1995.

Lyons, Paul. New Left, New Right and the Legacy of the Sixties, Philadelphia, Temple University Press, 1996.

Marx, Leo. ‘Pastoralism in America’, Ideology and Classic American Literature, (Ed. Sacvan Bercovitch and Myra Jehlen) Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1986.

Taylor, Paul. The Next America, New York, Public Affairs, 1991.


On Loneliness, Fear, and the Pandemic: Zadie Smith’s Intimations: Six Essays

by Elisa Pesce; featured image CC by Internaz

Forgive me if this blog is not the smooth reading experience you might have expected or wished for, but I believe it important to keep my comments on Zadie Smith’s Intimations as faithful as possible to the atmosphere which inspired the book. Indeed, the essays in question, too, seem to flow uninterrupted from Smith’s mind to the page, without much of a critical parachute to cushion their fall. Smith’s readers are certainly used to a more refined style of prose, but Intimations does deserve recognition for its frankness and helplessness, as Smith conveys her reactions to the unimaginable, collective pain that Coronavirus is still afflicting worldwide. Smith’s perspective is that of a Jamaican-British woman of letters living between London and the Big Apple, who observes Trump’s America from a consciously privileged position. But for this same reason, she was able to spot all the specific features and contradictions that historically define(d) the country’s identity.

Collectivity is one of the key words which best summarises the spirit of Smith’s essays. Others are isolation, suffering, self-consciousness, connectedness – all concepts which contribute to a fragmented picture of a New York under lockdown in the spring of 2020. The virus and its dramatic consequences on people’s lives are the fil rouge which allows readers to move from one introspective moment to the next. While I agree that this is not Smith’s best non-fiction, Intimations nevertheless manages to convey thoughts and feelings that a huge number of people have experienced over the past months. The aspect that I appreciated most about the text is the way in which such an esteemed writer chose to show her most human side through scattered notes inspired by the pandemic.

‘… Just before an unprecedented April arrives and makes a nonsense of every line’.
This is the closing sentence of Smith’s first essay, “Peonies,” and the one which, in my opinion, marks the real beginning of her stream of thoughts: ‘[a] few days before the global humbling began’ a bed of tulips, springing up, joyful and garish, in New York’s Jefferson Market Garden, attracted the writer’s attention by clashing with the surrounding urban environment. The result was a momentary submission to nature as Smith contemplates the meaning of creativity, femininity, and the writing process as a means of exercising control over experience. Retrospectively, those tulips, which Smith turned into peonies in and through her writing, become her last memory of a world on the verge of drastic change.

Intimations Book Cover

As soon as readers turn the page, “An American exception” plunges them deep into the heart of the United States, at the moment in which the nation was simultaneously hit by the pandemic and the social protests following the death of George Floyd. In the ‘City upon a Hill’, the promise of total freedom has been stretched so far that most of her white citizens have totally severed themselves from death – intended not as dead bodies, victims, or casualties, but as ‘the concept of death itself, death absolute’. Smith interrogates this particular aspect of American exceptionalism, by focusing on its consequences to non-white U.S. citizens.

In her next essay, the writer meditates on the changes that the pandemic brought about in everybody’s life and wonders: ‘Do we know how to stop?’ Artists are solitary creatures, supposedly used to spend their days pondering and/or riding the flow of their creativity. But art is also something that is often perceived as unrelated to either time or necessity, in that the artist doesn’t work “by the clock”. However, the sudden crowding of her domestic sphere during lockdown led Smith to realize that her writing is actually a process of deprivation, the carving of a little area ‘out of an expanse of time’. Inspired by Ottessa Moshfegh, who argued that love is what makes our life meaningful, Smith posits that the creativity displayed throughout the pandemic – whether that be novel-writing or the making of banana-bread – are indirect displays of love borne from a time of intense loneliness, and this leads her to assert that she doesn’t ‘want to just do time anymore’.

Yet our life, and therefore our sense of reality, is also shaped by another factor, one which was at the core of cultural debate right before the beginning of the pandemic: privilege. In “Suffering like Mel Gibson”, Smith reflects on the analogies as well as on the difference between privilege and suffering: both are like bubbles, which delimit and manipulate our vision of the world, but whereas the former has a relative nature and rests on concepts such as class, gender, or race, the latter is absolute, impenetrable, and ‘applies itself directly to its subject’, affecting it in tailor-made fashions. According to the writer, the social conventions which demand that we always keep our own private suffering at bay should be suspended in this moment of global crisis, to be replaced by empathy and the admission that pain exists – and can kill.

In her penultimate essay, Smith’s writing explodes in a cross section of the effects of the pandemic conveyed through short portraits of the people whom she regularly met in her methodical life: an Asian masseur in his daily struggle to make ends meet, a homeless man in a wheelchair, an elderly woman and her dog, a young man on his hoverboard… and her mother, who one day told her that a young woman from her neighbourhood had been killed by her boyfriend. This leads Smith to consider institutionalized forms of contempt in the U.S., as she considers her past conceptualizations of racism as a virus, and outlines why her opinion has changed now. She states, ‘I thought if that knowledge became as widespread as could possibly be managed or imagined we might finally reach some kind of herd immunity. I don’t think that anymore.’

The book ends with “Debts and Lessons”, a list of people and the intimations that they inspired Smith. As her work draws to a close, the writer abandons full sentences altogether, as if they were ultimately impossible to forge. All that remains are small, precious details of faces, personalities, routines, the only things that can get us through these difficult times.

*****

Bibliography:

Smith, Zadie. 2020. Intimations: Six Essays. Penguin, Kindle edition.

October Book Club: Claudia Rankine’s Citizen

by Tilly Dunnachie & Elisa Pesce

On Tuesday – the 13th October – UofG’s American Studies Book Club met virtually for the first time this academic session to discuss one of the most acclaimed books of poetry of the last decade: Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric.

Published in 2014, Citizen explores Black experience in the United States through lyrical poetry, images and artworks that poignantly challenge the processes of abstraction underlying Black invisibility.

Indeed, Citizen is more a collection of performative texts, rather than a traditional book of poetry: from its glossy white cover, dominated by an empty black hood, to the long, blank spaces that systematically break the reading flow and create a dynamic space in which words and visual content are forced to interact. But above all, Rankine’s narrative interrogates normative constructions of race, by questioning the very meaning of citizenship in increasingly multiethnic Western societies.

In this blog post, we want to share with you some of the main issues raised by Citizen, which sparkled a lively discussion during our Book Club.

The Politics of Composure. Who determines legitimate responses to discrimination and unacceptable ones? While victims of racial discrimination/violence are expected to show composure even in the face of blatant offences, the aggressors occupy a privileged position. Rankine’s text explores this issue through episodes such as Serena Williams’s ‘insane behaviour’ at the 2009 Women’s US Open final and Zinedine Zidane’s (in)famous head-butt at the 2006 World Cup.

The Hypervisibility of the Racialized Subject. As the target of a systematic state of policing, Black people in the United States become hyper-visible as opposed to whites. The group discussed the idea of hyper-visibility and invisibility as coexistent; Black people are hyper-scrutinised and racially targeted whilst lived experiences of racial discrimination and violence are not listened to, and perpetrators of racial violence are too often not held accountable.

Negative Space. When reading Claudia Rankine’s Citizen, one is confronted with the materiality of the text through its use of negative, or blank space. There are several pages in which the stark white page is filled with merely a few lines or paragraphs. We contemplated the ways in which the conscious use of negative space is a powerful way of forcing participation with the text itself. This abundant space is for us to fill in the blanks: to contemplate our complicity, acknowledge white privilege, and take active steps to strengthen our allyship and be explicitly anti-racist.

Passivity. What happens when the racial violence is met by an equally passive bystander? We considered Rankine’s repeated use of the second-person ‘you’ as making the personal universal as readers are invited to meditate and reflect upon their own complicity in everyday racial micro-aggressions, or their passive bystander status in situations of racial injustice. To be explicitly anti-racist, one cannot be a passive bystander.

The Meaning of ‘Citizenship’. How do we define citizenship? Are ‘citizenship’ and ‘belonging’ necessarily synonymous? More specifically, how do we define citizenship in the context of Trump’s America? In 2020, how does one navigate their own ‘citizen’ status when faced with open hostility?

We’d love to read your own comments and reflections on our blog post as well as on your experience with reading Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric.

Listed below is a selection of resources hand-picked by our wonderful Bookclub Team:

Upcoming Event: 6th November – Claudia Rankine: A Virtual Reading and Conversation.

Essays:

Mary-Jean Chan: ‘Towards a Poetic of Racial Trauma: Lyrical Hybridity in Claudia Rankine’s Citizen’, Journal of American Studies, 52 (2018), 1, 137-163. Cambridge University Press and British Association for American Studies 2017

Bella Adams: ‘Black Lives/White Backgrounds: Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric and Critical Race Theory’, Comparative American Studies An International Journal, 15:1-2, 54-71

Books:

Christina Sharpe, ‘In the Wake: On Blackness and Being’, Duke University Press, 2016

Articles:

Lynell George’s interview with Claudia Rankine, ‘On White Blindness, The Black Body, and Freedom to Live’

Samuel Lovett on the Banning of Serena Williams’ Black Panther Bodysuit.

Review of Citizen, The New Yorker.

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The Hook Centre for American Studies is meeting up again next Tuesday, 20th October at 4.15 (UK), for Dr Megan Hunt’s (University of Edinburgh) seminar “You don’t see Billy Graham walking any picket lines”: visible and audible Protestants in Selma’s Beloved Community. The Centre’s complete events calendar is available here.

Next appointment with the American Book Club is set on 13th November at 4.15 (UK). Please email amstudiesblog@gmail.com to receive a Zoom link and engage with us on Instagram or Twitter to help us choose our next reading!