My favorite banned books

by @jesspetrella

There’s a certain magic in being told you can’t do something.  If teachers (and parents) could only understand that the word makes you want to do it even more, then they probably would dispense with the notion. But, even after all these years, we keep telling people not to do stuff. Not to think stuff. Not to read stuff.

Now, this is not meant to be a deep and philosophical post, so let’s just focus on the books you are, apparently, not supposed to read.

I was introduced to the idea of you can’t read books very, very late in life, for my parents never even mentioned it. I read Lolita, for example, at an age when I’m not wholly sure it was appropriate and if Saramago and Dan Brown thought they could surprise me with their theories on Jesus and/or the church, then they don’t know the kind of things I found in the library at home. Point is, I didn’t know, as I do know, that the moral police was out there, ready to tell you what you can and cannot read (possibly to try to influence what you can or cannot think).

Most of the so-called banned books are not banned now, though I’m sure there are many people who still consider them books to avoid. (The dangerous ideas you might GET from them, oh no …). And so, in honor of those people, I now present a LIST of my absolute favorite banned books I learned many dangerous things from them, indeed. How to think for myself. What freedom meant. The importance of speaking up.  

Just imagine what would happen if all kids read them.

(In no particular order)

1. The Great Gatsby. I always wanted to write this book. Not to write like Fitzgerald, I wanted to wake up having already written this wonderful book about not so great characters  who are, nevertheless, as real as they come.

2. Nineteen-eighty-four. How to explain fear if you can’t quote 1984? How to talk about dystopias? How to understand totalitarianism?

3.  Gone with the Wind. Scarlett O’Hara showed me woman can be strong. Against all odds. Even when it seems impossible.

4. Fahrenheit 451. Ironic, a book about banning books ends up banned because, well, it shows us that banning books doesn’t work. I love my ironies.

5.  Uncle Tom’s Cabin. History, and the best way to learn it. The best way to find an interested audience. Oh, Uncle Tom, how much you showed me.

How much they all showed me. Those on the list. Those new books who are not on any list but that people insist should be. There are many lessons to be learned from books, banned or otherwise, but the most important one, perhaps, is to make up your own mind. About what to read. And, also, about what to think, and what to do. 

Dr. Seuss, Magic and the ghost of bad days…

I was looking up some children’s books today, and though few things have made me feel better in the past few weeks, somehow, those books did the trick. Maybe it’s because lately I’ve been dreaming about going back to more innocent times. Maybe it’s because they’re simple. Straightforward. Perhaps they remind me of my dad, of easier times, of being happy.

Or maybe it’s that there’s magic in there. Real, undeniable magic. The kind you feel even though it makes no sense, the kind that lifts your spirits, brings a smile to your face. The magic of belief, of possibility, of hope. The magic of dreams.

Big words for simple books.

As kids, those are the things we learn. As adults, though, isn’t it true that, from time to time, we need a reminder of those lessons we learned when we were little? As toddlers we learn to dream and hope, and yet, sometimes, when we grow up, we lose sight of that. We lose sight of a great many thing.

I grew up surrounded by books, and yet I don’t remember reading most of the stereotypical children’s books till I was older. If I’m to be honest, I grew up surrounded by mostly age-inappropriate books, because my parents believed reading was good, and most things could/should be explained if kids were curious enough to ask.

There were a lot of questions.

Dr. Seuss might not seem like the most suitable reading for my age-group, but today, it brought a smile to my face. Considering how hard that’s been lately, and how today feels like an ominous day no matter where you happen to live, it was just what the doctor ordered. So, yes, it’s September 11^th, and thirteen years ago, bad things happened. And they keep happening. Every day. Some are violent, some are cruel, and some are public, but others are private. They don’t hurt any less because of a lack of publicity, though. We all have our secret sorrows. 

Sometimes the questions are complicated, and the answers are simple, Dr. Seuss said. But maybe that’s not the quote we should remember. Perhaps it all comes down to this:

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” 

#YOEscribo

Tallererar: Acción de realizar talleres.  Revisar, revisar y revisar, comúnmente, en grupo. Forma de  edición conjunta que normalmente conlleva la lectura en voz alta con todos los participantes aportando sus opiniones sobre el texto.

(¿Quién dijo que la palabra no existía?)

La primera vez que asistí a un taller, como participante, nos poníamos en círculo. (Dinámica algo intimidante, ya que no hay como esconderse). Luego alrededor de una mesa. (Éramos menos) Esta vez, cuando me tocó a mi dar el taller (curiosamente, esto da aun MAS miedo), estaban todos sentados frente a mí, como en escuelita.

Duró poco la cosa. (Nunca he sido fanática del orden, quizás es la parte de mí que todavía es una adolescente)

Cuando comenzamos a planear los talleres, la consigna era, con que haya un estudiante interesado, ya habremos ganado algo. (¿Hay algo peor que no esperar algo de alguien?) Esto de escribir, leer, contar, usar la imaginación, es una cosa que atrae a algunos, me dijeron. (Mentira, mentira, mentira). No todo el mundo se involucrará con la dinámica. (Mentira, mentira, MENTIRA). Hay que aprender a aceptar.

(No, no, no)

Aquí están las pruebas. Mis pruebas. Seguro hay más, de más talleres, de una Feria que se llenó como nunca (tanto que no se podía caminar, ni comprar, y eso es bueno, bueno, bueno).

 

Y, créanme, no importa lo que hayan escuchado, los jóvenes si quieren. Si están interesados. Si tienen ideas. Si se les puede llegar. No es imposible. No nos rindamos antes de tiempo. Ya les digo yo, y aquí están mis pruebas. Hay muchas historias en Panamá. Y hay gente para contarlas. Y también, gente para leerlas.