|
|
||||||
|
Still Not
Legit for Lit:
Deborah A. Dessaso |
||||||
|
The phenomenal success of urban literature over the past ten years has sparked a fierce debate in the Black community among those who question urban literature’s worth and fear that the genre limits the black urban experience to a gangsta-ho worldview while ignoring the rich diversity of black urban life. In contrast, many believe that urban literature depicts a subculture that heretofore had been ignored by mainstream fiction. Moreover, urban literature has stirred the reading interests of many young Blacks—a much-needed development in the Black community. This essay is an attempt to present a middle-of-the-road argument which recognizes the need for young Blacks to become acquainted with reading of any type, at the same recognizing the responsibility of the Black community to move its young people into other types of literature. Opponents of urban literature argue that, unlike the grittily nuanced writings of authors such as Donald Goines, Iceberg Slim, and Imiri Baraka, much of urban literature tends to be poorly written and edited, often lacks a moral center and strong character and story development, and is nearly devoid of the literary ambiguities which are characteristic of traditional literary fiction. This viewpoint suggests that the term “urban literature” is an oxymoron. What is more alarming is the tendency for mainstream publishers to ignore traditional African-American writers in favor of what many consider a genre that perpetuates a stereotype of black people as violent, hypersexual, and illiterate. At this point, a discussion of what constitutes literature may be appropriate. In his essay, “What is Literature? A Definition Based on Prototypes,” Jim Meyer argues that there are two general approaches to literature. First, there is the criterial approach which limits literature to a rigid set of characteristics. The second view is the prototypical approach which recognizes relational resemblances among characteristics. (“What is Literature? A Definition Based on Prototypes”) When it comes to urban literature, even a cursory look eschews any attempts to fit the genre into the criterial approach; thus, the prototypical view of literature appears to be a more appropriate context in which to examine urban literature. According to Meyer, prototypical literature has the following characteristics: (a) It is a written text; (b) It is marked by careful use of language, including features such as creative metaphors, well-formed phrases, elegant syntax, rhyme, alliteration, meter; (c) It is a literary genre (prose fiction); (d) The texts are read aesthetically, that is, for the effects on the reader as the text is being read; (e) The texts are intended by the author to be read aesthetically; and (f) It contains many weak implicatures [that is, it is written in a deliberately loose way so as to be open to interpretation]. An examination of urban literature finds that the genre reflects most of the above characteristics; however, in two instances, urban literature fails miserably. Generally, the books are laced with profane, violent, graphic, and sexually-charge words commonly heard on the streets of the inner city. More importantly, the simplistic plots, under-developed characters, and predictable endings leave the genre bereft of the one characteristic which gives literature the elasticity which is the basis for literary interpretation. G. Andi Rhos, in her article, “Urban Literature Redefined,” recalls her first experience reading urban literature:To say I was mortified by what I read is being extremely extremely diplomatic. These books, this, this ‘literature’ lacked a beginning, a middle, and an end; lacked originality, lacked a climax, lacked a conclusion, lacked character development, lacked plot development, lacked subplots, lacked symbolism, lacked imagery, lacked foreshadowing and, worst of all, lacked literary merit. And the editing? What f***ing editing! The preponderance of typos alone led me to believe that the authors were functionally illiterate” (“Urban Literature Redefined”). One could argue that urban literature’s worth lies in its ability to attract a hard-to-reach audience: young Blacks. Yet opponents question the cost of having young Black minds sacrificed, as it were, on the altar of hard-core violence and explicit sex. Others believe that it is better to see young Blacks reading, period. Like Daniel Marcou of the website streetfiction.org, they see urban literature as a first step critical to introducing young Blacks to the world of reading. Marcou believes that, eventually “The more people read, the more critical they grow of what they read.” (Qtd. in “The Rise of Street Literature”) Nevertheless, since urban literature often is the first exposure many young Blacks have to serious reading, the very least its authors can do is to use standard edited American English between the street-language dialogue. Several examples, such as the works by Donald Goines and Sister Souljah’s The Coldest Winter Ever prove this is indeed doable. Perhaps the most egregious arguments against urban literature are the effects it is having on traditional black literature and mainstream’s perception of the African-American community. In his article, “The death of black literature in the U.S.,” Matt Kennard notes that Black literary agents, such as Marie Brown, are witnessing an alarming drop in the number of manuscripts by traditional African-American writers that are being accepted by mainstream publishers. Brown believes that the situation is a deliberate move on the part of the publishers, and Kennard echoes her concerns: “For the past decade [urban literature] has imposed itself on the landscape of African-American literature, and according to many, disfigured the vista” (Qtd. in “The death of black literature in the U.S.”). Brown’s comments suggest that the [urban literature] movement is sounding the death knell for more traditional black writers: The publishing industry has lost interest in supporting strong writing in the tradition of Alice Walker, Toni Morrison and many other people who were successful in the 1960s and 1970s. One is actually hard pressed to come up with a list of strong black writers who have come about since then; they justdisappeared. There’s no such people unless you picked Colson Whitehead, Stephen Carter. There are others putting stuff out but they are not marketed;their names don’t mean anything like they did before. (Qtd. in “The death of black literature in the U.S.”) Others are concerned that urban literature’s toxic depiction of urban black life leaves nonblacks with a false image of African-Americans. In her article, “The Rise of Street Literature,” Almah Lavon Rice echoes the views of many black booksellers who see urban literature flying out the door while books written by traditional black writers languish on dusty shelves. In Rice’s view, “It brings up the question of how much entities like Simon and Schuster are implicated in shaping ideas about culture and racial authenticity—and then selling them to the communities they supposedly come from” (“The Rise of Street Literature”). Bookstore owner Constance Shabazz expresses concern that mainstream publishers often act as if they “[can’t] support more than one genre that African-Americans read at one time.” (“The Rise of Street Literature”) The situation reminds Rice of the real possibility of invisibility in the Black community where “Black folk can be highly visible and still seldom seen.” (“The Rise of Street Literature”) Conversely, those who champion urban literature do so for many reasons. In the article, “It’s Urban, It’s Real, But Is This Literature?,” criticism of urban literature by popular authors such as Carl Weber often is characterized as little more than misguided, or just sour grapes from others whose work is not selling. (“It’s Urban, It’s Real, But Is This Literature?”) In Weber’s words, “It’s a real travesty that people put down this popular genre. No one puts down Tom Clancy or Danielle Steele. No one puts down people that write Mafia books. It really upsets me when people say we’re dumbing down. I see it as a way of raising people up. We’re giving people the opportunity to read” (“It’s Urban, It’s Real, But Is This Literature?”). Even the veteran mystery writer Walter Mosley feels that “Obviously, there can be an art to ghetto lit. I would never dismiss it out offhand. But I’m an American who believes in freedom of speech and freedom of thought. I may not read it, but I can’t make a moral decision for someone else. You might read this hip-hop book, and next year, read Mosley or even Mark Twain. It’s not about the book—it’s the idea that reading becomes an important part of your life” (Qtd... in It’s Urban, It’s Real, But Is This Literature?”). These authors may be onto something. In my master’s thesis, I argue that the need to build reading and writing bridges for nontraditional students is critical if we intend these students to become serious readers and writers: Despite a proliferation of computer technologies that require the ability to write, today's student, be she mainstream or nontraditional, may be more distant from the experience of writing than at any time in the recent past primarily because she experiences far less of what Sven Birkerts. . . calls deep time,” that is, time spent completely absorbed in readings of one’s own choosing, an element necessary for good reading (and, by extension, good writing.) (Gutenberg 75-76, qtd. in “Traditional Essay as a Bridge”) Urban fiction is still in its infancy, and many feel that the genre should be given a chance to develop its literary legs. As we have seen, urban literature shares most of the characteristics of prototypical literature, and while much of it could use a strong dose of revision, some parts of the genre contains the seeds of literary fiction which, if properly tended and allowed to mature, could emerge as a legitimate form of literary fiction. Who knows? One day it might even be suitable for inclusion in the literary canon. ________________________________
|
||||||