All the sins of literature

There’s child abuse in "Huckleberry Finn."

Regicide in "Macbeth."

Profanity in "The Catcher in the Rye."

Suicide in "Things Fall Apart."

Domestic violence in "The Color Purple."

Rape in "A Streetcar Named Desire."

Gang violence in "A Most Beautiful Thing."

Adultery in "The Awakening."

Grave robbing in "Frankenstein."

Incest in Greek mythology.

Drag racing in "The Outsiders."

Witchcraft in "The Wizard of Oz."

I’ve taught using every one one of these works in the last 20-plus years, and never have I suggested that students partake in any of the above activities. Nor has any student, to my knowledge, ever murdered a king, joined a gang, or taken part in any of the other behaviors just because they’ve read about them.

Addressing tough topics in school isn’t the same as advocating them. Most kids understand this. Some adults, apparently, do not.

Case in point: In Tennessee recently, the McMinn County school board voted 10-0 to remove Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel “Maus,” a Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece, from an eighth-grade unit on the Holocaust because it has a few cartoon depictions of naked animals and a handful of swear words.

Spiegelman’s book recounts the story of his interviews with his father, who in turn tells his harrowing story of survival in Poland and Czechoslovakia in the 1930s and 1940s. It’s not a pleasant read, and it’s not supposed to be. We are talking about the Holocaust, when more than 6 million Jews were murdered.

The author depicts all the people in the book as animals. The Jews are mice; the Germans, cats. It’s a brilliant metaphor and a powerful testimony, worthy to stand alongside other essential works of Holocaust literature, including Elie Wiesel’s “Night.”

A story by David Corn in Mother Jones explains how the board decided to ban Spiegelman’s book. According to Corn’s recap of the meeting, one member admits he hasn’t read “Maus,” and suggests that the volume is “only the tip of the iceberg” in terms of allegedly inappropriate material.

Another board member suggests works like “Maus” could be part of an attempt to “normalize sexuality, normalize nudity, and normalize vulgar language.” He also hints that such books are a way “to indoctrinate somebody’s kids,” as though teachers in Tennessee are chortling at their desks as they hatch a subversive plot to destroy America’s youth by teaching the truth about the Holocaust.

And children need to learn that truth. The U.S. Millennial Holocaust Knowledge and Awareness Survey in 2020 revealed that “11% of U.S. Millennial and Gen Z respondents believe Jews caused the Holocaust” and some 59% believe something similar to the Holocaust could happen again.

(Conspiracy proponents ready to pounce on mask and vaccine mandates as contemporary examples should sit right back down. No valid comparison can be made between curbing a pandemic and killing millions.)

Focusing on only nekkid mice and a few swear words misses the point of “Maus,” in the same way that focusing on only the bloody daggers in “Macbeth” misses the larger themes of unchecked ambition and crushing guilt in the rest of the play.

Far from normalizing negative behaviors, works that deal with challenging subjects provide teachable moments. After my class read “A Streetcar Named Desire,” I invited the director of the local domestic violence shelter to speak. She demonstrated how Stanley Kowalski, the male protagonist, met most of the characteristics of an abuser. At least one student recognized behaviors in a current relationship that met the criteria for emotional abuse. It was a realization that happened because of the intersection between literature and real life.

I doubt McMinn County teachers are drilling down on the nudity and swearing in “Maus,” and I doubt their students are titillated by cartoon drawings, situated as they are within a non-fiction horror story and guided to an understanding by professional educators.

Take any passage of almost any book, story or play out of context and you could question its suitability. Stitch all those passages together and you could reach the troubling – and erroneous – conclusion that U.S. schools are awash in blood, gore and smut.

The Tennessee board reached a similar mistaken conclusion about “Maus.” Let this be a lesson to all voters to elect sensible people to boards of education, candidates who support high-quality literature and don’t just go looking for dirty pictures and words.

Or, at the very least, board members who will read an entire book before deciding to ban it.