CultureCow: 2 books that expose the idiocy behind book bans
by Devin McCue, Sumner Newscow — Happy Friday. And a very happy Earth Day! There are few holidays that are actually worth the fanfare they receive (looking at you Christopher Columbus), but Earth Day is absolutely worth celebrating. To show our planet some love, please consider donating to a local nonprofit dedicated to fighting climate change.
But back to the news.
When I was a sophomore at WHS, there was a peculiar poster in my English teacher’s classroom. It was a list of “banned” books throughout modern history. Books like the Giver, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, and Fahrenheit 451 were given pride of place.
I thought this strange because none of the books seemed worthy of that distinction. Not only were they pretty uncontroversial in my opinion, but the concept was completely foreign to me.
Why ban a book when reading was the entire point of English class?
Luckily, the poster was just pointing out that very fact and not actually outlawing the most successful children’s book of all time and a novel that highlights the lunacy of banning books in the first place. If anything, the fact that books like these had “dangerous” ideas hidden within their pages made me even more excited to read them.
Florida, and the idiots in charge down there, didn’t understand the message of that poster, however.
The state legislature has been on a book banning spree as of late that even included math textbooks. They’re so terrified that their kids will read books that actually teach them a different point of view that they’re willing to hamstring those same kids’ education to stop it.
Books are the most accessible peek into someone else’s world and what they can teach you. So, prohibiting those books for the knowledge you deem “too adult” acknowledges that you never learned that lesson in the first place.
Kids should read adult books, but the reverse is also true. There are plenty of books that look like they’re meant for children, but every adult should read as well.
The first is a graphic novel that a Tennessee school banned earlier this year. It’s called Maus by Art Spiegelman and it’s one of the most significant books ever written about the holocaust.
Maus is the true story of Spiegelman’s parents as they navigated Nazi-occupied Poland, then later the death camps at Auschwitz and Dachau. The harrowing journey is told from Art’s father, Vladek’s, perspective and provides a more personal view of the horrific events that seem like a foreign concept to polite society.
In addition to the main survivor story, Maus shows how the Holocaust still loomed over Art’s father 30 years later. The PTSD and survivor’s guilt drove his old man to secrecy, emotionally abusive behavior, and physical harm throughout the entire story.
Graphic novels are usually reserved for kids, but like I’ve written before, they provide a way to tell a vivid story without describing every detail. Maus transformed people into animals, not only to make the story more palatable but to give a clear representation of the power dynamic.
The Jews were mice, the Germans, cats. There isn’t anything to miss.
Other than Schindler’s List, I can’t think of another piece of media so successful at bringing the horrors of the holocaust to my doorstep, including my history classes. But that’s the entire idea behind writing books.
The second book on the list is decidedly less controversial, but still fits the theme of “children’s” books meant for adults.
It’s a new novel called Poison for Breakfast by Lemony Snicket. Snicket is a name instantly recognizable for many young readers as the mind behind the infinitely popular Series of Unfortunate Events.
The Series of Unfortunate Events books were extremely important to me as a young reader because Snicket was the first author, I encountered to break the “rules” of writing. He broke the fourth wall, he went on long, drawn-out tangents, and he interrupted his own sentences—as someone might in a real conversation to make a joke—just like that.
That way of writing was completely alien to me as a young reader and enlightened me to the fact that there isn’t a strict formula every writer needs to stick to.
Poison for Breakfast is the height of that experimental style. The plot itself follows Snicket, the narrator and protagonist, as he investigates a mysterious note slipped under his door that simply read: “You ate poison for breakfast.”
What follows is an entertaining story of the Snicket’s amateur detective work as well as his philosophy around death, dying, and how one should properly prepare an egg. But that isn’t the most entertaining part of the book at all.
What makes the book gripping is how it’s written.
Paragraphs break into long, and often incomplete, numbered lists. The text uses the way it’s set on the page as a joke. Even basic conversations are fair game to transform into humorous stylistic choices.
Poison for Breakfast isn’t even the greatest book written in 2022, but that’s not the reason you should read it. The reason you should read it is to get a fresh perspective on the limits you think a book can be.
And why that very notion is the reason no book should be kept out of the hands of kids.
Meme of the week
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