Jenny Brewer 10 December 2011 The Experience and Products of Colonial-Postcolonial Literary Studies
I think I came into this class with a fairly wide
experience of multiculturalism in America.
My childhood home was located in what is now known
as Houston's “International District.” This means that my playmates were more
likely to have surnames such as Patel or Nguyen than Smith or Jones.
Entering their homes to play was like traveling to
another country, sometimes--with exotic cooking smells in the air and
grandparents still speaking their native tongue. I have much the same experience
today when I visit my partner's mother, who lives in Houston, but retains her
citizenship and properties in Nuevo Laredo--and with whom I communicate in
very slow Spanish.
Therefore, I have anecdotal knowledge of the
immigrant experiences of my friends and family, but until this class I really
had no feeling for the lives and cultures they had left behind.
Because of the demographics of my primary and
secondary schools, Train to Pakistan
and Jasmine were
probably the most compelling of the texts covered in the second half of our
class.
As a child, I never wondered how and why my neighbors had
come to live here, but the two texts we read about India have given me some
insight into the cultural and economic forces that may have been at work in
their lives.
Our Indian texts served well our course objective of
bringing “classic literature of European colonialism and emerging literature
from the postcolonial world into dialogue.” In each text (“The Man who Would be
King”, Jasmine, and
Train to Pakistan),
protagonists confront an “other.”
Dramatic insights into the perspectives of
colonizing and colonized writers can be gleaned from their treatment of these
“others.” In “The Man who Would be King,” Billy Fish is the only native who
actually rates a name of his own.
In Jasmine
and Train to Pakistan,
however, the “others” are fully-fleshed characters, with agendas and tragedies
all their own.
Without using the intertextual method, this
insight--among others--would have been easy to miss.
I especially enjoyed exploring issues connected to
our second course objective: “to theorize the novel as the defining genre of
modernity.”
Novels comprise ninety-five percent of my recreational
reading, and I encounter many people who consider fiction frivolous and bereft
of educational value.
Our course texts and my research project in
narrativity have proved incontrovertibly that this is not so.
The weekly lectures on the real history of the
regions and peoples we have studied show that the assigned texts are taking us
to real places and through real experiences.
My research journal helped me to understand that
narrative is perhaps the most effective way to convey cultural information,
because narrative works on deeper levels in the hearts and minds of its readers
than does simple expository writing.
I noted in my midterm the tendency of American
curricula to use multicultural literature to promote tolerance through pluralism
and cultural relativism.
This approach does not take advantage of
intertextuality. American curricula usually treat multiculturalism as a “unit”
of its own, reading selected “world” authors and seeking only to teach that it
is “okay to be different.”
This prevents students from seeing the dominant
culture as playing any kind of a role in the history and conditions of other
countries and speaks to course objective three, as it partially accounts for
Americans’ difficulties with colonial and postcolonial discourse.
Writing the midterm gave me an opportunity to delve
deeper into our course objectives. Ultimately this led to my research project on
narrativity, as the exploration of narrative was, for me, the most compelling of
our course objectives. However, the idea of American cultural resistance to the
image of itself as colonizer was a close second choice, so I was happy to read
Keaton Patterson's research journal on American imperialism, and Lisa Anne
Hacker's account of her experiences teaching multiculturalism in a Christian
school. These projects showed how cultural objects such as novels can just as
easily close the
reader's consciousness as raise it.
I feel that the insights I have gained into
narrativity are the most personally valuable outcomes of this class. This seems
obvious, considering the subject of my research journal, but the journal only
provided about half. These insights were gained in equal part through the
experience of learning to read intertextually, the excavation of unsuspected
assumptions, the discovery of truths contradictory to American cultural
narratives, and my classmates' insights into the potential for narratives'
subversion to the agenda of the dominant culture.
It was no surprise to me that my graduate degree
plan contained a multicultural requirement, and I accepted that as a “good
thing.” However, even in this acceptance I had no real concept of its value.
Our culture and economy are becoming more
information-centered each second,
it seems. In this age of partisan sound-bite journalism and sensationalized
“reality” television, critical skills are crucial. The constant stream of
messages we receive contains shocking generalizations, cynically edited to
produce very specific feelings alternating between gratification and
indignation.
Eli Pariser’s TED talk on the “Filter Bubble”
(www.thefilterbubble.com/ted-talk) shows us how the Internet can make us more
ignorant even as we consume ever-increasing amounts of information. Without
knowledge of the history and context of the ideas, events, and personalities
presented across every medium, American minds are ripe for exploitation by
disingenuous elites. Classes such as this one guard against such depredation,
and teach us skills that are rapidly increasing in importance as our society
evolves.
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