No Perfect Story

Lead image is “I tend to scribble a lot” by Unhindered by Talent is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

I’ve been rereading even more than normal lately. I like rereading in general, and one reason is because I already know the story. It’s predictable. Even when the story is scary or sad or hard, I know what’s on the other side. Given that I’m at a point where everything is wildly unpredictable and unknown after the very near future arrival of Peanut, this is very reassuring!

I also like rereading stories because I get new things out of them each time. I just finished rereading all eight Anne of Green Gables books (not in order), and each time I move into a new life stage I find that my favorite at that moment is the one where Anne is in the same life stage as I am.

But my last couple of rereads, I’ve found some things in these stories, as central as they are to me as they are, that are problematic and at times hard to read. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced something like this with a beloved series of books. I have three examples here for you.

Anne of Green Gables series by L.M. Montgomery

The Anne of Green Gables books were published between 1908 and 1921 and are set primarily on Prince Edward Island, Canada from the 1870s (ish) to the end of WWI. The first six books, in particular, follow Anne, an orphan adopted at age 11 by a brother and sister pair, through her childhood, her two years teaching in her hometown Avonlea, going to university, marrying her husband Gilbert Blythe, and moving with him to a new town and starting their lives together. Books 7 and 8 focus primarily on her children.

There are a lot of reasons I love these books, which I’ve written about before. But there are also things that grate on me more each time I read them. I first encountered this with the last book, Rilla of Ingleside. This book is set during WWI, and Rilla, the youngest girl of the family, watches her three older brothers go off to Europe to fight. When I was reading this a couple of years ago, I was particularly struck by a character named Josiah Pryor. He is nicknamed “Whiskers-on-the-Moon” by the other characters because he’s gone mostly but not entirely bald, and he is generally reviled because he is a pacifist during war time. Boys through rocks at his house to break his windows, people wonder if he is in league with the Germans, and generally no one wants anything to do with him. During a joint prayer meeting of the Presbyterians and Methodists, he is invited to give the closing prayer:

“In a sonorous voice which penetrated to every corner of the crowded building Mr. Pryor poured forth a flood of fluent words, and was well on in his prayer before his dazed and horrified audience awakened to the fact that they were listening to a pacifist appeal of the rankest sort…He prayed that the unholy war might cease—that the deluded armies being driven to slaughter on the Western front might have their eyes opened to their iniquity and repent while yet there was time—that the poor young men present in khaki, who had been hounded into a path of murder and militarism, should yet be rescued—” Rilla of Ingleside, ch 20

He is interrupted by someone another character, insulted, and quite literally tossed from the church by his collar.

It’s not really terribly different today; people are ostracized all the time for thinking something different than their community. I’ve also never lived through a world war so I can’t comment on the mental hoops someone had to jump through to manage and justify such a time. But this subplot continues throughout most of the book, and each time it seemed more and more intolerant.

There are other issues within this series as well – I can think of racist statements against at least three different minorities off the top of my head – but let’s move on to another series.

Harry Potter by JK Rowling

I’ll skip the plot summary for you on this one, and the controversy is somewhat more recent. But if you missed it, the short version is that JK Rowling published a tweet followed by a longer piece of writing defending a viewpoint that many saw as highly transphobic. Lots of Harry Potter actors took to media (social and otherwise) to support trans people, Harry Potter fan sites stopped posting news about JKR herself to focus only on the stories, and this in general started a huge conversation about cancel culture. One major question seemed to be about the separation or lack thereof between a creator and the art form. Do we now collectively hate Harry Potter because of the opinions of the author?

For me personally, that answer is no. I find the series engaging, poignant, and meaningful. There are a lot of reasons I love Harry Potter, which is again something I’ve written about on this blog before. And there are still issues embedded within the story itself, regardless of issues with the author. I’ve read articles about issues around how Dobby, Winky, and slavery are portrayed, about Hagrid, about the diversity of the characters. I’m sure if you want to dig into any of these you can go find them.

The Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder

I don’t reread these books quite as often, but I did reread them all about a year ago. For the unfamiliar, Laura Ingalls Wilder chronicled in story form her childhood from the 1870s to the 1890s, and the books were published in the 1930s and 40s. It primarily follows her family’s adventures as they moved from Wisconsin to the prairies and later back to the Ozarks.

When I was growing up, these books were considered American classics in children’s literature. I know they inspired many hours of imaginary games where I played as a pioneer or Indian (which is how I phrased it to myself as a child; if you want to get into the intricacies of that particular name, I suggest reading Charles C. Mann’s book 1491, in particular one of the appendices that deals particularly with how native people call themselves and how scholars call native people. Short version: it’s complicated). I remembered them from elementary school as great adventure stories, particularly since they featured all girls (and Pa).

And when I reread them, I came across all the issues with the portrayal of the native people Laura and her family encountered. This is again an issue that spans many of the books and subplots and recently caused the American Library Association to change the name of the Wilder Award, given to works that have made an impact on American children’s literature, to the Children’s Literature Legacy Award.

Cancel Culture and Hard Conversations

I’ll now speak specifically for myself and my own opinions about these stories. Yes, I have issues with them. And also yes, I still love them. I still reread them. I still find things of value in them. I still incorporate them into my life. At the same time, I think it’s really important that I engage in reading my most special stories critically and realizing that they’re not perfect. In fact, I would argue that there is no such thing as a perfect story. There will always be a problematic representation of someone or something. Or someone or something will be left out. A story is, by definition, finite. And that means it can’t be all-encompassing.

This is true for so many stories and other works of art. John Carter of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs is considered to be a seminal piece of science fiction literature; it’s also incredibly sexist (or so I’ve been told by my husband). Rodeo, the ballet by Aaron Copeland, frustrates me to no end. It tells the story of the Cowgirl trying to get the romantic attention of the Head Wrangler by riding a bucking horse and failing. It isn’t until she puts on a dress and acts like a girl that she does get his attention. (The story is of course more complex than that, but that’s the gist.) But that frustration doesn’t stop me from appreciating the ballet or loving the music.

I recognize that other people make different choices. For some people, certain issues really are a reason to reject a book or a whole series. And that’s also a perfectly valid choice.

What I don’t appreciate is giving up on a story. It’s one thing to intentionally say, “this issue is really important to me and I’m not ok with how it’s portrayed in this story or by this author and I don’t want it in my life.” It’s another thing to be swept away by everyone else throwing stones or walking away because they disagree with something. That’s cancelling without thought, without intention.

For me, I would rather have the conversation about the flaws and the gems inherent in any story. I would rather learn from them, from the good parts and the bad parts. I would rather sit with that disagreement. This is harder. It requires engaging in nuance and complexity. But I think it’s worth it.

This was put very poignantly for me by a fanfic author who wrote an Anne story set after all of the published Anne books, from 1919 to 1942. The story is called The Happiness We Must Win and you can find it by clicking here. In very short, it’s about three canon characters who don’t fit into typical rural Canadian society during the time period, one because she doesn’t marry and two because they’re gay men in a relationship together. In an author’s note on chapter 63 (yes, it’s a long story), the author writes about her portrayal of Anne, Gilbert, and other typically-beloved canon characters, along with LMM’s negative opinions towards LGBTQ+ people. She summarizes by saying: “This isn’t about hating on characters; it is about me, as queer person, navigating my relationship with this author and her works, which are wonderful in many ways, but ableist, racist, and homophobic in others.” I find it incredibly powerful that this author used fanfiction as a way to engage in that kind of navigation and conversation about these issues with others.

Your homework: What’s a story you love? What are the issues with it? What do you do with those issues?

Hej då,,

Jamie