I Am Not Your Negro: Reviews from the 2018 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Everything you've heard about this film is wrong. Okay, not wrong, just not... enough. There are no words to describe the power here, the tragedy, the desperate reaching for hope in the face of all the futility. This is, quite simply, the greatest documentary you will ever see. It will touch you—change you—in ways you didn't even think possible.

Woven from James Baldwin's unfinished novel, Remember This House, given voice in the sober tones of Samuel L. Jackson, and given flesh and blood by director Raoul Peck's extraordinary talent, this is not just an eloquent portrait of Baldwin or of his own story, but of the story of race in the United States—right up to the present day, and beyond.

The story of the Negro in America is the story of America. It is not a pretty story.

Coming on the wake of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, all the focus on racial injustice for decades and centuries—and happening today, still—this couldn't be a more timely film. 

Although Curaçao is far, far from the racial inequality so prevalent in the U.S., there is still quite a bit of it; in different shapes, in different tones, but still there. (Here.) One of the things that angers me the most is hearing white (or white-ish) people saying, "This whole slavery thing, man—just get over it!" For years I've struggled with a response for that—a response not just appropriate but effective—and I never managed to come up with anything satisfying. Now, finally, I can give them a rather condescending smile and say, "Have you seen I Am Not Your Negro?"

I am not a nigger. I am a man. But if you think I am, it means you need it. And you've got to find out why.

Gay Degani's 'Rattle of Want' — Lessons on Writing Long vs. Short

I met Gay Degani back in 2013, when we were both part of the Pure Slush project 2014, A Year In Stories—and this is not the first time she graces this blog with her insight. She wrote two pieces for Quiet Laughter during the A2Z challenge in 2014, one on Setting, and one on using Pinterest to increase a book's audience, which has become a top-five in the blog's most viewed posts of all time.

Photo credit: Rachael Warecki

Her 'Old Road' series in the 2014 project (now collected as part of her newest release, Rattle of Want) had me hooked; the characters jumped off the page, the plot—half mystery, half personal drama—kept me riveted, and this cohesiveness to her writing made me certain Gay was a novelist. She had to be. Anyone who masters 'story' at that level must know the longer arcs well.

Imagine my wonder, then, when I found out that—although she does have a published novel— Gay is mostly a writer of incredibly prolific and award-winning flash.

The Drawbacks of Paradise

I do love Curaçao. I love living here, I love its 'prickly kind of beauty', its contrasts, its contradictions. To me, this tiny island that so few people have heard of -- and of those who have, most relate it to a blue orangey-tasting liquor -- is paradise.

But paradise, any paradise, comes with drawbacks. And, depending on who you are and what you love, the drawbacks and their relevance to you may vary:

Saramago, Caín, The Evolution of Opinions, and The Perils of Rigidity

For a good and hefty chunk of my life, I hated Saramago. At some point I read something of his--no clue what, could've been in school, could've been in some stray book in my dad's library, could've even have been a snippet glimpsed over someone's shoulder--and, whatever it was, made enough of an impression to forge a rock-solid disdain of his work.

And (to my intense embarrassment today) I didn't hesitate to vociferate it to anyone who asked.

Best 20 minutes you'll spend today

#atozchallenge: Gender

2014: A Year In Stories
A twelve-volume anthology published by Pure Slush Books

How much does gender matter in a story? Does it have a role in the larger arena of storytelling? How does it impact your perception of a story?

Stephen V. Ramey, one of the thirty-one 2014 writers, has been reviewing the project's story of the day since January 1st. Yes, every day. He's earned our gratitude not just for the discipline and effort involved, but--perhaps especially--for the insight he provides to each story arc, to the characters, even to the writers ourselves.

On January 12th we read, and Stephen reviewed, Shane Simmons' first story, You Can't Choose Your Friends. That review sparked a paradigm-shifting conversation. I'd like to share it--and maybe even continue it--with you.

Stephen says about You Can't Choose Your Friends:

From Stephen's January 12th review of Shane Simmons' You Can't Choose Your Friends

Turns out most of us a) hadn't noticed the lack of gender clarification until the end, b) had either assumed the narrator was male because the author is male, or female because the other character in the story is female, and--most relevantly--c) whatever gender we chose didn't make a whit of difference for our enjoyment of the story. 

Some stories come with built-in gender for their characters. Take Michael Webb's, for instance (whose baseball-player protag, Mark Hamilton, you've read about here). In Michael's words,

Mark Hamilton's story is a baseball story, but it is also fundamentally a manhood story. His value is uniquely tied to his body. If he can't throw a baseball where he wants when he wants with regularity and velocity, he is utterly useless as a professional. He is unusually thoughtful for an athlete, but the strain is beginning to wear at him. He's doubting his parenting and his marriage. When the checks stop coming, will he have any value to them at all? He feels that if he has to retire because of age or injury, his work will disappear, his value will disappear, and in a way, he will disappear.

Mark is unequivocally male. His story--the characters, the plot, the conflicts, the dialogue--reflect that, also unequivocally. But what about stories--and protagonists--that aren't immediately identifiable as male or female?

Stephen raises another, more craft-related, point:

Stephen, caught in a Dundee moment.

It's generally a good idea to encourage the reader to engage in the story. This is why minimalist (but sharp) description is usually best. The reader gets to participate in the creation. So long as the author is careful to identify details that really do matter to the narrative, allowing the reader to create non-necessary details (is that dress blue or green? does the house have siding?) can be an effective way of connecting said reader to the action and characters of a story.  

Gender matters a great deal to many readers, but it can be difficult for an author to indicate that aspect of character naturally, particularly in first-person viewpoint. Attempts can come off as clumsy (I stroked my beard and sat next to Rhiannon), or forced (As a woman I dislike Old Spice). 

The larger question is whether gender actually matters in many stories. Does it matter whether a reader identifies a protagonist as male or female in a story that does not play to gender types? If Joe envisions a burly man chopping that wood, does it matter that Alice pictures a strong woman? 

Maybe, but what if the resolution has nothing to do with that accident of birth, but rather the content of his/her character? Granted, the takeaway of such a story will vary between readers, but so long as there is a meaningful takeaway, does it matter? 

I will argue that in some (perhaps many) stories, e.g. Shane Simmons' opening story in 2014, gender is not a detail that truly matters and can be left to the reader to imagine without harming the story experience.  

In fact, it may enhance the experience.

Thank you, Stephen and Michael, for sharing your thoughts for this post. 

What do you think? Do you enjoy stories with built-in protag gender? Is gender ambiguity a problem or an enhancement for you as a reader--and a writer? Have you ever written a piece that made it difficult to clarify the protagonist's gender? (I have. Curious?)

~ * ~ 

Thanks for the visit, and my apologies for the late posting. I'll do better tomorrow :) 

Happy A-to-Z-ing!

On Fear & Other Crutches

We hold on to our fears because they define us. They, we believe, keep us safe. Overcoming fear--of the dark, of scorpions, of speaking in public, of change, of no change--isn't easy, but we make it harder.

Because we hold on.

The video Shell doesn't want you to see

I'm no militant activist. How could I, spending my days in front of the 106K words of the novel I'm (supposed to be) editing? Yeah, yeah, the pen is mightier than the sword, and my fiction will, one hopes, one day have the power to make people think, to change minds, to influence for good.

But in order to achieve that, I must first pay the price. Perfect the craft. Put in those 10,000 hours. (Are we there yet?)

And still. From this my laptop, as limited as the scope of influence might be, there are a few things I can do. One of them is sharing this video, which got taken down from YouTube by the F1 people. I have no sympathy for you, F1 guys. Those millions upon millions you spend every year on engines, suits, advertising, transport? How about you *do* something worthwhile with it? There's enough hunger in the world, enough suffering. Take your pick. For goodness' sake, leave the playing with cars for a time when every child has one healthy meal a day.

Oh, you grammar Nazis, you...

I'm one. I admit it. I'm even proud of it.

(Yeah, I taught English for ten years.)

I hate it when people misuse punctuation. Misspelled words--the classic affect vs. effect, for example, or confidant instead of confident, and the ever-present confusion of it's and its--make my teeth ache. My nerve endings cringe when I read sentences like, "If I would've seen it..."

And don't get me started on the new-generation text-type spellings of UR and THX and GR8. Hoo-hah, great time savers, those. What do people do with the thousands of hours saved by typing UR instead of you're, I wonder?

On child marriage--beyond the horror to understanding

The height of mental pleasure: to have my paradigms shifted. To feel the ground shake under my unshakeable convictions of right and wrong. To achieve a measure of empathy. This video did that for me today.