Anderson: Authority vs. Resistance

M.T. Anderson’s Feed presents a fictional world in which technology has taken over the inner workings of humanity, and in doing so radically alters the ways in which life is lived.  The novel is highly technical—there are lots of references to faux-cultural ideas, gleaned only through their repeated presence rather than a direct explanation.  This, combined with the diction seemingly intended to appeal to the target audience of ages fourteen and up, make Feed a disjointing and confusing read at best.  Beyond these stylistic disconnects, Anderson makes incredibly potent social commentaries, and deeply explores the idea of authority and, conversely, the idea of resistance.

Throughout the first half of the novel, Anderson creates the typically dystopian world seen in other works like George Orwell’s 1984 and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.  There are droves of people completely influenced by a government/corporate center, as seen in the actual feeds each character experiences.  Though these feeds don’t directly dictate behavior, as would be the case in other novels of this ilk, the feeds allow an outside source a large amount of contact and power within these characters’ lives.  This concept is most addressed in the scene where Violet and Titus go to the mall, and Violet presents her counter-culture ideas of resisting the feed.  Up until this point, the feed isn’t necessarily bad—the characters accept the feed, not considering its power.  Violet breaks this trend though, when she explains how the feed tries “‘to make you conform to one of their types’”[1] (Anderson 97).  This notion of individuality establishes Violet’s rejection of authority, further illustrated by Titus’ response of “‘That’s the feed. So what?’”[1] (Anderson 97).  His compliance with this type of control as ordinary constructs the absoluteness of the authority in the novel.  His lack of interest in Violet’s “complicating” and “resisting”¹ separates the two characters on a fundamental acceptance of dominance (Anderson 99).

In the scene where Titus and his friends decide to cheat the Coca-Cola feed and all chant so as to receive free products, the characters exhibit a sense of anti-establishment.  He explains, “it was a chance to rip off the corporations,” [1] showcasing a sense of distrust in those institutions (Anderson 158).  However, in a different scene, Titus refutes this and offers one of the most ominous passages of the first half of the novel.  In discussing the idea of school, and how it is run by corporations, he remarks, “that way we know the big corps are made up of real human beings,” whom “care about America’s future” [1] (Anderson 110).  Reading this novel as a social commentary brings strong attention to this passage, as Titus presents a troubling viewpoint on the acceptance of authority, especially when compared to realistic notions of this idea. 

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[1] M. T. Anderson, Feed, Candlewick Press, 2002. 

Harriett's Literary Spyhood

Louise Fitzhugh’s Harriett the Spy presents a portrait of a young girl struggling with her inner quest for identity and self-worth through the very medium the novel presents itself in—writing.  Harriett deems herself a spy: she spends much of her time peering through windows, hiding in trees, trying to make sense of specific instances.  The remainder of her life, though, unbeknownst to her, also includes methods of spying, though in a less meticulous manner.  This attempt to make sense of the world around Harriett is accomplished mostly through her involvement with her notebook, and the deep secrets she develops into stark revelations about her life.  Ruminations like “I’m glad I’m not perfect—I’d be bored to death” both highlight her perceptions of her subjects, in this case the Robinsons, but also lead her to introspective developments used to craft her specific identity1 (68). 

Harriett analyzes her surroundings through her writing, a fairly meta concept for a book of this caliber.  A disconnect between her and adults exist—“Where do people go at five o’clock?” (93).  She wonders about the lives of the adults in her life, and about their relationships and emotions.  She includes these thoughts in larger questions about life, questions asked so frequently in everyday life that they bridge the gap between the adult and the child: “Life is a great mystery.  Is everybody a different person when they are with someone else?” (97). 

These ideas, these ruminations allow Harriett to make sense of the world around her, the bustling Manhattan neighborhood that she inhabits.  The idea of the spy beautifully pervades her everyday life, as she is constantly searching and questioning and trying to make sense of things.  Her reliance on writing is particularly striking though, as it conveys the importance of art, creation, and reflection, a privilege often missing in literature that is didactic or child-like in a sense.  This emphasis on creativity and self-expression fuels Harriett’s quest for understanding. 

1Louise Fitzhugh, Harriett the Spy, Yearling Books.  2001.  

The Other Side of Settling

Louise Erdrich’s The Birchbark House draws an immediate contrast to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie in regards to the complicated notions of race and the racial stereotypes presented in the two stories.  Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie, while existing as a lovely facet of children’s literature with a classic story dear to many North Americans’ hearts, presents obvious ideas of racism and racial inequality: Ma’s entire attitude towards Native Americans, and the fact that she “just don’t like them,”[1] solidifies this interpretation (46).  And although the character Pa provides dissenting ideas, ascribing the Native American culture of the novel some humanity and identity, the novel reads holistically, especially in the twenty-first century, as a racially unequal text.  The Birchbark House, however, presents a completely different viewpoint, written from the perspective of the Native Americans experiencing the injustices of the white settlers.  Deydey, the father of the family in Erdrich’s story, explicitly refers to the white settlers as “‘greedy children’,”[2] explaining, “‘Nothing will ever please them for long’” (79).  The two groups oppose each other both historically and in terms of these literary plots, highlighting other differences between their cultures that affect the racial connotations of these two novels.

Whereas Wilder ascribes the Native Americans of her novel very little agency, if any at all, Erdrich offers completely Native American perspective.  Told from the viewpoint of a young Native American girl, Erdrich explores Native American culture and experience as opposed to completely shutting this existence out, as do so many other stories, constituting their racist connotations.  Most strikingly, Erdrich explores the community associated with the Native American culture, a clear contrast between the rugged individualism associated with the pioneer spirit of Wilder’s story.  Pa leaves Wisconsin in Little House because “there were too many people in the Big Woods now”¹ (1).  Omakayas’ family, though, thrives off of communal work ethic and relationship bonds—when the families convene to harvest rice, Omakayas immediately “raced off” to “find her cousins,”² wishing to share experiences with them (94).  Furthermore, Omakayas develops a relationship with Two Strike Girl, a cousin with whom “they eventually called each other sister”² (98).  Omakayas transcends her immediate family to develop a strong relationship with a cousin, part of her larger family, an action that speaks strongly of the cohesive layers of this specific culture.

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[1] Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie, Harper Collins, 1963. 

[2] Louise Erdrich, The Birchbark House, Hyperion, 1999.

A Complicated Reaction: Didacticism, Gender Roles, and Racism in Little House on the Prairie

Somewhat shockingly, Laura Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie is a novel that I have never read, neither as a child nor as an adult.  Therefore, reading it for this class has caused me to perceive with an academic mindset, one crucially aware of the larger concepts present in the text.  Didacticism, gender roles, power dynamics, and racism—all are present, and can lead to a disheartening interpretation in modern times.

The very idea of the so-called traditional family structure involved in a journey of Western expansion will invite some modern readings of inequality and convoluted power structures.  The detailed passages of Charles’ work contrasted with the detailed sections of Caroline’s cooking and caring for the children establish that classic binary of gendered housework.  However, the specific relationship between Caroline and Charles seems to break that connection, at least slightly.  At the very least, Charles asks Caroline her opinion before implemented strong decisions.  Instances of “‘What do you say, Caroline?’’ invoke a sense of equality and consideration often lacking in the male-led sense of family (19)1.  Sadly, though, most of Caroline’s answers reassign the authority of the decision to Charles: “‘Whatever you say, Charles’” (19).  Furthermore, Caroline’s docility in instances of harm contrast with Charles’ control in those situations, further establishing a gendered sense of familial divide. 

The more didactic elements of the novel further reinforce the classic, somewhat-Victorian identity of this story.  Laura’s inner thoughts often illustrate then-contemporary notions of children’s behavior, such as when she expresses that “it was shameful to cry” after the family loses Jack when crossing the creek (24).  Later, when Mr. Edwards visits for the first time, Laura cannot contain her excitement but soon remembers, “that children must be seen and not heard” (66).  These glimpses of Laura’s inner monologues serve to both enhance her character, but also strongly construct the idea of the restrained, proper child so promoted in these times.

Finally, the blatant racism of Little House on the Prairie constructs a disjointed read.  When Laura stresses her desire to “‘see a papoose’,” Caroline demands that she “‘forget such nonsense’,” suggesting a distaste for Native American identity and culture (123).  When discussing Native Americans in another instance, Caroline exclaims, “‘I just don’t like them,’” obviously constructing a negative relation between the different ethnicities of the novel (46). 

These complicated, varying concepts in the novel present a problematic reading in modern times.  I’m hoping to make more sense of these ideas as the plot pulls together in the second half of the novel.

1Wilder, Laura.  Little House on the Prairie.  Harper Collins, 1935.  

Kim's Maturity

            Kipling’s interest in identity construction carries over deeply into the latter portion of the novel.  Whereas the first section that we read contains Kim questioning his personhood (“I am only Kim. Who is Kim?), this section witnesses Kim comprehending more aspects of his personality, albeit in a gendered manner (163).  Chapter XI contains a scene in which Kim provides advice to a father regarding his sick son, and the incident “proved that he was a man” (228).  This relates to several other moments throughout the next few chapters, and one specifically where Kim controls “himself with an effort beyond his years” (248).  These references to Kim’s budding maturity, in a sense beyond his enhanced power as a central figure in the world of Children’s Literature, solidify Kim’s status as a member of his society, within the context of the novel. 

            This concept of change, or maturity, maintains certain connotations within the world of Children’s Literature.  Identification with a character can develop strong ties between a reader and a work of literature, and the reader often experiences emotions associated with that character in a sense of solidarity and relation.  This holds particularly true in Children’s Literature—through the characters in specific works of literature associated with Children’s Literature, such as the adventure prototype that Kim plays upon, readers identify strongly with the characters, and in a way can deeply experience their same exploits.  The complicated sense of identity construction in Kim is even more fascinating in this way—beyond analyzing all the intricacies of development and personhood already involved with identity construction, Kim addresses this in association with childhood.  When Kim develops into more of an adult, the reader experiences that change, and children must undoubtedly experience that same feeling of progression and development.  How this plays into their personal lives is crucial to understanding the relationship between the private experience and the outside connection with art.