My Grandfather was a chef and could always relate the world’s problems to food. The
Israeli-Palestinian conflict was caused by a “general overuse of the wrong spices in the regions diets;” United States dominance was a result of a “boiling pot of cultural cuisines throughout the country.” His favorite adage was “you are what you eat.” Mine is similar to that; you are what you read. The simple premise that what we read influences who we are causes profound implications on canon and curricula building. Every dictator seeks to restrict what his subjects read, thus controlling the flow of ideas, information, and philosophies. A free society, then, “sustains itself by fostering an expansive and open canon” (Smoot, 1). Yet the idea of a literary canon itself suggests standards, upholding what is deemed excellent writing, creative expression, and revolutionary ideas.
In recent years there has been an “assault” on the canon. That is not to say that there is an assault of
Shakespeare’s standing in the canon, rather on the process by which the canon is formed (or the very idea of a canon). Traditionalists contend that the canon is comprised of works that have “stood the test of time,” not becoming outdated or unimportant in a critical context. However many are now claiming that this “test” is not as impersonal and impartial as it may seem. Biases “increase over time, as the ruling class, operating through ‘cultural institutions,’ sifts through the literature to find the works” that reinforce established ideologies (Assault, 1). While this may be an overstatement, the fact remains nonetheless significant; an elastic canon may insure some freedom and the development of new ideas, but within this elasticity there are still restrictions in place.
As John Guillory puts it, “the politics of canon formation has been understood as a politics of representation” (Guillory, 5). The representation or lack of representation of certain social groups in the canon causes much debate. Should an established author like
Toni Morrison, a woman of African American decent, be taught or recommended over someone like
Herman Melville? Should people of specific cultures or peoples be represented in the canon for the sake of a multicultural perspective? The whole relationship between subjects, individuals, and their identity as members of a certain social categories is one which has been dramatically unsettled in recent social theory (Guillory, 5). Social identity, like literature in general, has been deconstructed; labels no longer carry the same weight in literary study. A multicultural approach, while it may extend the canon, may increase the divisiveness in a postmodern society by focusing on the victim/victimizer paradigm. Text selected in this context may harm literary study in the long run, being selected only on their ability to support a particular social and political agenda. As Smoot says, “those today who think literature should be chosen for what it says about women, or minorities, or other groups or ideologies, have lofty goals, and there is a place in curriculum for such study, but not if it involves the denigration and vilification that does not fit a prescribed political formula” (Smoot, 3). The canon is a double edged sword and should be treated with delicacy.
When it comes to the canon and
speculative fiction/comic literature, it may just be easier to bust the canon rather than argue for incorporation. Defenders of the canon themselves are continually at war over who belongs on it, and the only people who are not busy arguing are the canon busters, who tend to deconstruct rather than construct. However, another famous adage reminds us that “the best offense is a good defense.” While the canon may be a binding and disheartening structure, so long as the construct is in place, literary scholars will refer back to it for knowledge. Meaning, in order for most libraries to acknowledge and incorporate comic literature onto their book shelves, there must be potential for canon induction.
“But, Leukemia,” you say, “There are dozens of books on library shelves that have no potential for canon induction.” And you are not wrong;
Twilight has as good of a chance of becoming a canonized work as
Keanu Reeves has of winning an Oscar.
But what
Twilight has in common with
Hamlet and
Moby Dick is text. They are a text based form of literature and, unfortunately, on first glance they will always be closer to the achievements of Shakespeare and
Austen. From their start comic literature has been held in fairly poor regard by American academics. One of the earliest attacks was from a literary critic,
Sterling North, of the Chicago Daily News. His commentary was vicious, stating that comics were “Badly drawn, badly written and badly printed - a strain on young eyes and young nervous systems - the effect of these pulp-paper night-mares is that of a violent stimulant. Their crude blacks and reds spoil the child's natural sense of color; their hypodermic injection of sex and murder make the child impatient with better, though quieter, stories. Unless we want a coming generation even more ferocious than the present one, parents and teachers throughout America must band together to break the ‘comic’”. The academic world was dismissive, often hostile toward comic literature and soon that attitude was shared by many, a substantial majority of librarians among them. Much the same was said about movies when they were first created. Only recently, within the past fifteen years, have movies received the same critical investigation that text based literature have received. While comics are still years away from the status of movies there have some strides toward the same recognition.
With a television in almost every living room, computer for every student and handheld videogame systems in
128.89 million hands, our culture is more visual than ever before. “High school and college students, among other groups, need to access images for their daily lives” (Perez and Rodriguez, 1). Being immersed in this audiovisual cornucopia has caused many scholars to begin incorporating new materials (comic literature), previously considered inappropriate because of their content or under-appreciated value, into their classroom. With their undeniable popularity, thematic diversity, and cultural relevance, educators have overcome their biases, with much resistance, and begun incorporating comic literature not only in the classroom but in their scholarly work as well. A group of authors, academics and high school teachers, in the book
Teaching Visual Literacy criticize the view of education that focuses only on conventional materials, believing that this elitist view of teaching “denigrates more modern artistic genres in considering them to be less intellectual” (Perez and Rodriguez, 1). Comic literature,
Visual Literacy says, is more accessible to the student, who finds them more intelligible compared to conventional literature. But this view is often ignored or marginalized for the reason that students enjoy them more.
What the messy, rather unintelligible paragraph above states is that comic literature is making steps into being respected in the academic world. The more educators find comic literature educationally beneficial, the more that image of comics as a “pulp-paper nightmare” begins to disappear. Can the canon eventually incorporate comic literature into its “diverse” selection? As more scholars/academics begin incorporating comics into their classrooms and research, the door of opportunity opens further. The question then changes from if, to when; all that’s left to do is to wait and prepare the comic literature the libraries should purchase.
There are thousands upon thousands of comic books to choose for library purchase, some written and drawn better than others. There are dozens of genres, ranging from the Super-Hero/Heroine adventure stories to the Western action tales, adult/erotic books, and historical/real life comic fiction. There are hundreds of protagonists, thousands of secondary characters, and millions of story arcs. With comics being around since the 1960’s it’s almost impossible to collect them all (I say almost because I’m pretty sure there’s a guy in his basement with stacks of comics around him), so I’ve chose a comic to start this discussion off: the stand alone graphic novel by Grant Morrison called Arkham Asylum. This choice represents the most popular type of literature being produced by the comic book industry and, I believe, it’s the best representation. I invite everyone else who is interested in compiling a list with myself to message me with different types of comic literature and the reasons why libraries should consider them.
Arkham Asylum, written by Grant Morrison with art and cover by Dave McKean, is a comic that I was conflicted about including. On one hand Arkham Asylum is one of the most critically acclaimed Batman graphic novels of all time. The artwork was revolutionary for its time and the plot, while nothing new, was so eloquently fitting of what comic literature can do if stretch to its limits. On the other hand this is by no means for children. While Batman stories are always violent, this pushes the bounds of what is accepted, with the artwork displaying graphic images of violence and the dialogue ridden with adult themes. Ultimately I chose it for one reason; it’s one of the more self aware, critical pieces of literature I have ever read.
