The Unbearable Lightness of Serious Literature
A while back I subbed to the Powell's Review A Day Newsletter, which sometimes tells me about books I'd be interested in reading, though more often does not. But sometimes the commentary in the reviews - which seem to be chosen from a fairly small pool, by a sorting algorithm I cannot fathom - is itself of interest. Which is not always a good thing
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Very, very telling. It seems to me, in fact, that Theroux is assuming you'll (the reader, that is) understand that race is behind what he's saying. The only reason India's poor are less scary than East St. Louis' is that Theroux would be a white man in East St. Louis. And black people, you know, are scary. Not like regular people, you know. I know plenty of folks here in the St. Louis area who are afraid of going within St. Louis city limits, let alone downtown, who consider the idea of being in East St. Louis (not just driving quickly through on the way to Chicago or whatever) unthinkably dangerous. In fact, it was one of the more disgusting aspects of that Jonathan Franzen novel set in Alternate-St. Louis you posted about a while ago, that the ending involved the main character's wife getting lost in East St. Louis, and of course she was in horrible danger from the ( ... )
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It seems to me, in fact, that Theroux is assuming you'll (the reader, that is) understand that race is behind what he's saying.
Yeah, there's enough disingenuous there all around to choke a camel, I barely scraped the surface let alone dug down, being in a rush and seriously undercaffeinated.
The only reason India's poor are less scary than East St. Louis' is that Theroux would be a white man in East St. Louis. And black people, you know, are scary. Not like regular people, you know.
Which, you know, isn't that long ago (and might still be, for actual old-fashioned John Bulls abroad) the way that a white dude in his place would have felt the same way about Injah and all those Furrin Parts. Narcissism & Irony go tripping hand in hand...
In fact, it was one of the more disgusting aspects of that Jonathan Franzen novel set in Alternate-St. Louis you posted about a while ago, that the ending involved ( ... )
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And Franzen's from here, too. He went to high school where I work. He probably did do some research, but he also, probably, thought that his explicit choice of an "alternate" St. Louis absolved him of the responsibility to get everything right. Yes, I know, you're laughing. This mindset, it is foreign to our people.
And whatever research he did, he likely already "knew" that East St. Louis is scary and dangerous, so why research it any further? Of course when the character finds herself there, the only people she meets are thugs and prostitutes who mock her or threaten her. Everyone knows that's what East St. Louis is like!
Bleah.
Of course I can't help but think of lines unseen, and certain monocultural humans blundering through boundaries they don't even realize exist, creating a most terrible tangle behind them, all with "the best of intentions"...
Dang, no Atevi smiley!
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I'm not sure if they're more afraid of the black immigrants, the Latino immigrants, or the Greek-Polish-French Canadian ones, though, since they've ALWAYS been scared of West Manchester as a "wretched hive of scum and villainy" even when it was 98% white, which, you know, is really sad and pathetic if it weren't so offensive. ("Manch-Vegas" is an ironic nickname, because, well, kind of the polar opposite.) It's amazing how insular and sheltered people can be in their "own" communities and lacking no advantage of time or money.
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I mean, if he's using an area that's supposedly poor and crime-ridden, what's alternative about that?
Ah, sorry: story logic rearing its head again. I forgot that this is Serious Litterachoor and so doesn't require this type of grubby detail-mongering that genre types expect from their AUs.
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