Dealing with Controversial Texts, Part 1

If you look at the Upcoming Appearances sidebar, you'll see that I'm scheduled to present at the Children and Youth Conference for Librarians on Friday. My topic is "Dealing with Controversial Texts." I've been looking forward to giving this presentation for months, and therein lies the problem. Sometime last spring, when I was first invited to present at CYC, I wrote out the whole talk in great detail, probably more than I'd ever need, but now that I do need it . . . you guessed it. I have no clue where my notes are.

Well, I know roughly where they are--probably in one of the many spiral-bound notebooks littering my office floor. I'll go on a search-and-destroy mission this afternoon, but I'm already resigned to the fact that I'll need to recreate my whole talk from scratch.

So what do I want to say about controversial texts? A lot, actually, but I'd like to address the problem of taking a zero-tolerance-for-defects approach to literature, which I think is closely related to popular attitudes toward the Bible. Stay with me here. A number of Christians pride themselves on an all-or-nothing approach; either every word of the Holy Bible is literally, factually (as opposed to metaphorically) true, making it the ultimate authority on every subject under the sun, or every word of it is false and we might as well throw the book away.

My intent is not to argue about biblical inerrancy but merely to say this: if it IS valid to say the Bible is either entirely true or entirely false, we can only say this because the Bible is a unique case. All other books are imagined, written, revised, edited, published, and marketed by fallible human beings who may well be right about some things and wrong about others. To insist that every element of a literary work be factually accurate, orthodox, inoffensive, and clear as daylight is absurd. No Shakespeare play could stand up to it.

• Othello includes racist comments, vulgar fart jokes, and numerous sexual references.
• A close reading of Ophelia's mad songs (all about seduced and abandoned maidens) and Hamlet's puns on the word conceive strongly suggest that Ophelia is pregnant with our hero's child when she drowns (accident? suicide? abortion gone wrong?).
• And in Romeo and Juliet--well, you get the idea.

As I've told my students at the beginning of every lit class I've ever taught: In order to read and enjoy any work of literature, you've got to be willing to accept some discomfort. You're not going to like everything the author says. You're not going to agree with every point she makes or accept every "fact" she offers. You may not approve of everything the main character says and does. And you may HATE the ending. But you'll also find that your own thoughts, beliefs, and values are clearer after you read a book that isn't inside your comfort zone.