Analyze the psychological and traumatic effect that marginalizing can have on the minority groups portrayed in the modern fiction. As it happens, othering and subordinating certain groups of people can traumatize them on a daily, which may give rise to a specific behavior and neurosis in such social others.
I think specifying what type of psychology should be applied to this would be a helpful start for whoever wishes to write this. As a psychology major, I would suggest writing through the lens of social psychology. – darbyallen3 years ago
Maybe look into disability studies as there are a lot of great pieces about disability representation in literature. – ProfRichards3 years ago
As a linguist, I can see this topic being analyzed from a discourse analysis perspective particularly in regard to the narrative. Such analysis can properly justify the dehumanizing language of some social groups that exists in modern fiction. – Malak Cherif3 years ago
From reams of fairytale retellings, to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, from Meg and Jo to Circe, the literary world bursts with retellings of classic novels. The smorgasbord of material grows every day, giving rise to multifaceted questions. What sets one retelling of a classic apart from another (why, for instance, might someone choose the Little Women retelling So Many Beginnings over Meg and Jo, and its companion novel, Beth and Amy)? Do some classics lend themselves to retellings better than others? Perhaps most intriguing of all, what is the benefit, for writers and readers, of retelling classics and/or reshaping them for a current audience? Once these classics are reshaped or retold, are they classics any longer? Discuss.
This is a really interesting topic and very timely to our current media- and book-scape. I think it would be helpful to think about the designation "classic." Of course, that's always a sticky topic, but it might be necessary to think about what it means to re-tell a classic. – JaniceElaine3 years ago
Yes, I should've clarified, that should be the first thing the writer does if they choose this topic. However, they would have to be careful that the article didn't become a full discussion of what a "classic" is. – Stephanie M.3 years ago
This is a great topic and the topic of one of my articles. Should classics continue to be remade? In our day and age is the moral of the classics even applicable? If the classics are remade and remade are they considered classics anymore? – scampbell3 years ago
When it comes to film and and television adaptations of literature and novel mediums, it is largely understood that the omission of certain details or scenes is due to constrictions of budget or time. However, another method of adaptation has been the combination of certain characters, dialogues, and plot points/events to ‘ease’ the understanding of the adaptation under the guise of the aforementioned. For example, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss’s adaptation of A Song of Ice and Fire, made the choice of changing the names of certain characters so that the audience would not get confused by the extensive catalog of main characters. George R.R. Martin’s original purpose for including character’s of the same name or namesakes is because that is a quality of real-life. This is a small example, but I am interested in reading where other writers and readers can identify where a seemingly harmless change or omission of detail is actually a veiled attempt at maintaining an audience’s attention and therefore their wallet.
Interesting premise, though I feel like it might be just a tad cynical. To use your GoT example, the reasoning for changing Asha Greyjoy's name to Yara (due to the original's similarity to the completely different character of Osha), never seemed to me as being "because the audience isn't smart enough to tell these two characters apart," but rather out of media-specificity. On the page, one can clearly see the difference of the "A" and the "O" that might easily be missed when television viewers are relying only on auditory signifiers, with phonetic similarities potentially being harder to parse than ink-on-page. Also keep in mind that if the reader gets confused, they can temporarily stop reading and flip to the genealogy charts in the back of the book. Though most viewers can arguably pause the show to pull up a fan-wiki, film and television (and especially the commercial-less HBO) are principally designed to be consumed without interruption, which would have been the experience of anyone watching the series live as it premiered. I don't think the creators' awareness of these differences and their decision to edit accordingly really constitute insults to the audience's intelligence -- not to defend D&D, there's certainly more than enough BS in the later seasons to merit that label. It's also worth noting the inverse scenarios, wherein equally similar names (such as Bran and Bronn) and even identical ones (Robb Stark and Robert Baratheon or Jon Snow and Jon Arryn) made it into the show unaltered, suggesting that thought WAS put into which ones were deemed worth changing and which needed to be kept intact. The latter examples of the Robs and Jons are more meaningful than the rather arbitrary closeness of Asha and Osha (two characters who have nothing to do with each other and never interact), since it subtextually hints to the audience the degree of Ned Stark's reverence for his allies from the rebellion, via his decision to name his sons after them. I guess this is a long way of me saying that onomastics alone might not be substantial enough of a basis to justify to severity of your central claim. If I may propose a slightly more contentious counterexample: do we see Zack Snyder removing the alien vagina-squid from his 2009 film adaptation of Watchman as being motivated by fear that the audience wouldn't understand? I've seen valid arguments on both sides of this one, so let's discuss! – ProtoCanon3 years ago
I think they are just trying to accomplish something different, which often times means they have to "do away" with a lot in order to (essentially) stay within budget – JuanGomez3 years ago
Modernist texts are often heavily fragmented – the plot is jumbled and does not follow a simple beginning to end chronology. This can be off-putting for many readers as it can make a story hard to follow and less immersive.
However, what are the benefits and what does writing in fragments achieve? An article could look at a selection of texts that are fragmented and offer an analysis of what this particular structure is doing.
For example, in Kaddish for an Unborn Child by Imre Kertesz, the plot keeps circling back to the same line, its repetition representing the repetitive trauma it has caused the protagonist. Or, in The Corpse Washer by Sinan Antoon, the plot is broken up by page long chapters detailing the nightmares had by the protagonist which can show how they interject in his life just as they have interjected into the plot. There are many works of literature that fragment the narrative and do so for thoughtful and strategic reasons. Thus, exploring texts that do this meaningfully could be an interesting read!
I suppose in literature that would be food for thought. But, I can emphatically say that it occurs in film as well. Take for instance the film Raging Bull. To the untrained eye or first time viewer, the boxing scenes appear fragmented, or improperly edited. In fact, it is a deliberate technique known as image collision. Effectively what it does is arrange a sequence of scene cuts with no apparent flow between them. The viewer is left to fill in the gaps or smooth over the perforations in the actor's activity and the camera movement. In the process, the audience is drawn into the cinematic spectacle before them. I would be interested in knowing if this a common practice in literature as well. (Aside from the obvious example, Alice in Wonderland.) – L:Freire4 years ago
Interesting. Modernism was a reaction against the inflexible confines of Victorian literature that preceded it. The motif of the circle, as in Kertesz's text, is an alternative to the traditionally linear conception of experience. The Modernist's realised that individual experience is not as simple as a traditional linear narrative with one major point of conflict; we think back, we reconsider, we hypothesise. The Modernists simply reflected this reality in the forms of their works. – hlewsley4 years ago
I find fragmented writing to be very confusing, but very intriguing as well. A reader following a straight line can get tiring and boring. Putting in fragments adds not only a timeline to a story, but also adds depth to characters, settings, and plot. The reader is able to tie things together themselves rather than have someone tell them which is more entertaining. – devdroses3 years ago
I don't really see "fragmented" stories as innately more confusing than linear ones. If you think about it, any story that starts in medias res or uses flashbacks--especially more than a couple of times--is making use of non-linear storytelling. That being said, probably one of the most infamous "fragmented" stories is The Trial, a novel by Franz Kafka. In that case, the reason why it's so fragmented is because the story was discovered after the author's death, and he hadn't managed to complete the story or put the pieces in order in the first place. Another interesting example of non-linear storytelling is in the movie Memento. The protagonist of that movie suffers from an inability to make new memories, and so the entire story is told in reverse, with the later events being shown first and the earlier events shown later, so that the audience can realize how confusing and misleading it would be to live in such a way. – Debs3 years ago
What an interesting topic! This could be a hard one to write because temporal shifts and fragmented plots work to “achieve” different purposes for different Modernists. Perhaps a thesis that explores a few common effects of the narrative style within a particular subset of Modernist writing would work well. One might consider narrowing to the early Modernists or even just the early female Modernists, for instance. Or, contrarily, a broader survey of Modernists using the style over time to achieve the same purpose would be super interesting, too. Again, keeping the focus narrow will be difficult, but I think it would produce a rewarding piece. – JCBohn3 years ago
This week, Slate.com’s parenting column, Care and Feeding, ran a letter from the concerned parent of a school-age child. The child’s majority-white class, led by a white teacher, had been reading Bound for Oregon as part of an Oregon Trail unit. This book, written in the ’90s, contains the N word. (From all indications, the parent and student are white, also).
The parent expressed concern because when they went to the teacher, she simply said she told the students the N word "is not a nice word," they did not have to say it (when reading aloud in small groups), and the class would discuss the word "later." However, the discussion had not happened, and the parent wondered whether to pull the child out of the class/school over the teacher’s response.
Unfortunately, Bound for Oregon is not the first historical kids’ or YA book to contain this word or other slurs, nor is it the first kids may be required to read in school. In 2020, what is the best way to handle this? Is there any historical kids’ and YA lit that stays true to its historical background without using slurs or outdated attitudes? Are those attitudes "necessary" or "object lessons"–in other words, would "cancelling" them deprive kids of so-called classics or needed info? Does the classroom makeup–the race of the students or teacher, orientations, ability levels, etc.–make a difference? If it does, at what point should related literature be introduced or handled (e.g., how should we handle Holocaust literature when the majority of a class is practicing Jewish? Should able-bodied students be required to read literature about disabled characters, when their school has a segregated special ed program)? Discuss.
Is it possible to get a link to this article? – DancingKomodos3 years ago
Young adult literature has seen a needed explosion of Black protagonists lately, and particularly Black females. Many of these new protagonists are also involved in Black Lives Matter or similar, sometimes fictionalized, organizations. They may be involved with other fictionalized organizations like Innocence X (The Innocence Project), seeking justice for incarcerated loved ones. Some Black female protagonists also rap, blog, or otherwise create to have their voices heard, and face both support and backlash.
Examine the voice and portrayal of the young Black woman in today’s YA literature. Who is she? Is her representation fair and nuanced, or do a lot of her incarnations look the same (and why is that)? If you choose to discuss historical Black females, how are current fictional protagonists different from those written in past decades? What do Black female characters have in common, and how do they differ from each other as well as other races? Who are some of your favorites, and/or whose stories do you think today’s young adults should read first if they’re trying to gain an understanding of Black, female personhood?
I highly recommend reviewing Chapter 2: "African American Young Adult Literature and Black Adolescent Identity Developing a Sense of Self and Society through Narrative" in Janet Alsup's Young Adult Literature and Adolescent Identity Across Cultures and Classrooms: Contexts for the Literary Lives of Teens (2010). I think anyone who chooses to write on this topic will find excellent insights in that textbook. – Felipe Rodriguez3 years ago
Jane Austen was a pioneer of her time for writing and literature, and often wrote about women from different backgrounds dealing with issues regarding marriage, family, and wealth. Her novel Emma focuses on Emma Woodhouse, who was unlike other characters that Austen had written about because she was wealthy and has no aspiration or need to marry due to her status as a wealthy woman.
I am curious about to the extent of which Emma can be considered an independent woman in Austen’s novel. Looking back on women’s lives in the Regency Era, it is supported that Emma had a unique and uncommon status compared to most women in her time.
It is important to understand that Emma Woodhouse is a complex character who is unique among Jane Austen’s heroines. While she is beautiful, intelligent, and rich, she is too inexperienced to use her power and influence well which leads to several serious issues.
Can Emma stand as an example for women who face a changing England at the beginning of the nineteenth century? I think it’s important to draw attention to the importance of women’s status in society before the dawn of the new century.
The constant messaging nowadays to "stay safe" seems at odds with most of the books written for children in elementary school. Fairy tales, adventure stories, and even classic and seemingly gentle books like "The Secret Garden," encourage children to face their fears, take risks and stand up for what they believe in, even if it endangers themselves.
How are today’s children to interpret characters like the Pevensies in Narnia, Lina and Doon from the City of Ember, or Parvana from "The Breadwinner," in the context of risk-averse messaging? Do these kinds of stories still reflect our values, and what kind of benefits do children get from them?
I love this topic and can think of other books to discuss, too. Really, you could make the argument that if a children's lit protagonist is an orphan or in a non-traditional family situation, or situation of any kind (and most are), they're already taking risks. They may already not be safe, through no fault of their own. And I love that about good children's lit. I sense you're afraid we may lose that, and I share your concern. If no one claims this, I'm taking it! :) – Stephanie M.3 years ago
I wonder if a brief history of children’s lit might help contextualize this shift from adventure narratives to our cultural desire to protect children - from my knowledge a lot of children’s books first started out as instructive tales, like Aesop’s Fables or A Pilgrim’s Progress, and then developed into the children lit we recognize more broadly now. I also wonder if there could be an examination of the cultural shifts between some of these classic children’s lit works, like Narnia, and now. For example, would Narnia have been as successful if it had been released in 2020? Or is there something about post-WWII England that made those stories extra enticing? And how does this cultural context play into the understanding of fear/adventure? This is a great topic :) thanks for your ideas! – cassidyleone3 years ago
