The government did not shut down and, for a brief moment, we will enjoy a short intermission in the too-often emetic ideological epic of Washington-Columbus politics. The battle will resume soon, and whatever has been ugly and hostile in previous debate is likely to grow even more so, for bigger challenges remain. But now, we may pause and take a breath. Perhaps, we should read a book.
The suggestion is occasioned by the scheduled opening of the new International Welcome Center on Public Square in Cleveland. I’ve been delighted by this development, and the broad coalition supporting it. It has also stimulated pockets of renewed anti-immigrant sentiment. Take this example from the Plain Dealer, found in the comments section at the end of last week’s article about the Welcome Center: “Why not just target Americans from other cities? All we need is more foreigners on welfare . . .”
I suppose we should have all developed a kind of collective immunity to this kind of toxicity by now, but such beliefs have also led to harassment, violence and toxic policy, so immunity is ill-advised: wariness is probably more appropriate. Hardly anyone reading this will agree with the aforementioned comment. The question is this: how can we, all of us, participate in the welcome?
Read a book. Actually: read many books, then insist your friends and family read them.
This is a serious recommendation. If we are to become a truly inclusive community, we must re-draw the cultural boundaries of the village, and learn to speak, as it were, in tongues: not necessarily linguistically, but in terms of ideas, perspectives, ways of seeing. There are a hundred ways to accomplish that task, and literature might be one of them.
So here is a suggested list. I’ve followed a couple of guidelines and exercised a few cautions. First, there are only a handful of European titles here, in part because most readers are already familiar with the Western canon (even if they haven’t read all of it), and in part because the wave of immigrants America is now experiencing is, by and large, non-European.
Second, this is not intended as another variation of the “See how many of the 100 great books of all time!” invitations we’ve all received on Facebook. In addition to the fact that most of those lists are manifestly Eurocentric, their circulation invites a kind of literary arrogance, as if we could all claim moral superiority based on the number of books from the Western catalog we’ve read. (It should be noted that I haven’t read all of the following. I’ve finished more than a couple, and less than all. That’s a sufficient declaration of achievement.)
And third, the list is incomplete, tenuous, subjective, geographically skewed and imperfectly representative of the range of voices that should be included. Most of the writers are male. There is an Asian tilt, probably a reflection on my own personal tastes. One might argue that the list should include poetry, drama and oral storytelling, which form a more central part of the national literature in some countries than written fiction, which has a Western lineage. All valid criticisms; and I’ll ignore them all, because this is an invitation to expansion: Who would you add?
All things furious political and democratic will soon resume in DC and Columbus, so you don’t have much time. Contribute your suggestion to the list, then pick one you haven’t read, and start reading. So that Cleveland can say: welcome, all; welcome, world; we’re getting ready, and setting the table for your next arrival.
The complete list of recommended international reading is on page two...
On April 12th, 2011 @ 06:48:am,
said:
I would add "The Sorrow of War: A Novel of North Vietnam" by Bao Ninh.
On April 12th, 2011 @ 07:29:am, Paula Kampf stated:
I've recently read and been inspired by the tales in "Savages" by Joe Kane. I've come to care deeply about the Huaorani people through Kane's charming, gentle, wise, challenging telling of their stories--and as I watch gas prices skyrocket and our dependence on petroleum ever-escalate. I am planning a trip with a noted Cleveland-based sociobiologist working in this area to witness what I can firsthand this summer because of this. I have also been quickly and actively working to reduce my personal petroleum-consumption in honor of these beautiful, wonderful human beings I "came to know" through Kane's book. I've watched the Ecuador/Chevron court case closely--the story is still unfolding on our own newspaper pages this very day! I hope some other folks will pick up this book and read it, too. For whatever it is worth, here's the amazon.com description: In this impressive, funny and moving work, Joe Kane tells the story of the Huaorani, a tribe living in the deepest part of the Amazonian rain forest in Ecuador. The Huaorani have only in the last generation been exposed to such items as the wristwatch. But the modern world is reaching them quickly; for better or worse--usually worse--they live astride some of Ecuador's richest oilfields. Oil production in the Amazon has opened the forest to colonization and industrialization, often with alarming results: about 17 million gallons, of raw crude, more than in the Valdez spill in Alaska, were spilled from a Amazon pipeline between 1972 and 1989. Kane, who lived with the Huaorani for months, immaculately reports on the tribes' connections with the old world and its battles with the new one.
On April 12th, 2011 @ 03:51:pm, Mary Bamer replied:
Two Old Women by Velma Wallis.
On April 13th, 2011 @ 05:35:am, Earl Pike responded:
Great suggestions. Ivan, I'm ordering "Sorrow of War," My wife and I were in Vietnam in 1991, before the embargo was lifted, and there were only French and Australian tourists visiting the country. You could buy English-language books written by Vietnamese authors, including books critical of the Vietnamese government, from street peddlars who would seel the books off rickety card tables in alleyways. But you couldn't find copies of any of the books in Vietnamese, because they were censored. So industrious Vietnamese could translate novels, print off their own copies (nobody worried about copyright), sell them to French and English speaking tourists, and not run afoul of Vietnamese censors. That's when I began to learn about some Vietnamese authors . . .