Book Marks: Hold That Ban, Cancelling Cancel Culture

As the book-banning movement marches on in the United States, the state of Illinois is putting a stop to such efforts. In a press release, Governor J.B. Pritzker said, "Young people shouldn’t be kept from learning about the realities of our world; I want them to become critical thinkers, exposed to ideas that they disagree with, proud of what our nation has overcome, and thoughtful about what comes next. Everyone deserves to see themselves reflected in the books they read, the art they see, the history they learn."

So far, it's only one state, but I hope more will follow suit. The movement to control what gets read in schools, libraries and everywhere else is dangerous overreaching by elements out to impose a "cruel, rigid, unforgiving and smugly self-righteous" (David Eddings was on the money about religious demagogues) doctrine everywhere, not just the US. If people stopped thinking for themselves, some smart alecks will step in and do our thinking for us, and that's the last thing we need.

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Has cancel culture gone too far?

Elizabeth Gilbert was forced to shelve her new novel, set in Russia, after it was review-bombed by people protesting Russia's invasion of Ukraine. There has been some pushback to this, in favour of Gilbert; her book does not appear to be pro-Russian propaganda, and I personally deplore the tactic employed against it because most review-bombers never read the book they attack.

Some may feel the urge to strike back at an oppressor, but projecting all that is bad about a rogue nation onto a piece of literature and then smashing it is pointless. Have review-bombs ever stopped a war, ended oppression? The power and reach seemingly granted by social media has made us lose all sense of proportion. And equating writing about Russia to tacit support for its policies is a bit of a stretch.

Bestselling author Richard North Patterson, meanwhile, can't get New York publishers to take on Trial, a legal thriller focusing on racism, Black voter suppression, and an interracial love affair in America set in 2022. If I read correctly, he was told that as a white male author, the story was probably not his to write.

While there has been debate over whether white authors should even attempt writing the stuff Patterson did in Trial when BIPOC voices are being suppressed, is it fair to excessively gatekeep or pigeonhole authors by race and what they should and should not write about? And even if there have been white authors who fumbled when writing about other cultures and lives, surely some of them do get it (mostly) right.

If an author is found to have not treated their subjects well in their book, then let the piling-on begin. Otherwise, why kill a book before it even has a chance to be read and judged?

Knowing Myself (Again)

Though things have started changing career-wise, I seem to be stuck in the same existential rut I descended into when I started having sleeping troubles about six years ago. I can't muster the same energy and vibe for work. I've had to rely on dictionaries and thesauruses more. I look at my old work and it looks like someone else wrote it.

Nor do I feel the security and comfort of belonging to a certain tribe. I've ghosted almost all of the connections I made during my forays into writing and publishing while I sorted myself out, and I don't miss the vibe any more. I didn't feel a thing when people recounted their time at a recent literary festival I used to attend.

Divorcing the alienation from the world of letters and the lingering resentment from a failed relationship is hard. Perhaps it's because they're linked. Did I want to write because I wanted to or because I was dragged into it? Instead of a slow, gradual surgical removal, I abruptly ripped out that part of my life in rage. It hurt bad, healed ugly, and evoked phantom pains when I encountered certain triggers. Even now, those pains still lurk beneath the surface.

Whenever these feelings emerge, I remind myself that joy and despair take their turns in life and nothing is constant, so there's no point resenting others for having what I don't have. The things they have come with other things, which I am not yet prepared to shoulder or accommodate. I may not know what I want to be now, but I can distract myself with tiny side projects. Until then, I'll grit my teeth, bear it out and work on those projects, whatever they may be. Seen that way, my world shrinking may not be such a bad thing after all.

An epiphany while watching Accented Cinema's take on why China cared "so much" about Kung Fu Panda slapped me like the thrashing tail of a trout: "Kung Fu Panda loves China more than China loves itself." AC believes that the first KFP film is essentially an American love letter to Chinese culture; though some parts are not culturally accurate, it's an homage so heartfelt that Chinese started asking themselves why they couldn't make something similar.

Perhaps it's that outside-looking-in thing. We seldom recognise our own strengths and unique selling points because we internalise so much of ourselves that it's become second nature, only standing out when seen by others, under certain circumstances. That might be why many creators seek validation from others on social media. Over time, some eventually get addicted to the feedback and adulation – and are devastated when it all comes crashing down.

(Also, China takes itself way too seriously and has too much pride to ever do stuff like KFP, which also pokes fun at itself. They should really lighten up.)

Maybe I stopped writing because I (also) got tired of wondering whether my writing is worth this much or that price. And constantly asking "is it good enough" or "did I get this right" after hitting "Send" can be nerve-wracking. I don't think that will ever change.

I understand better now how self-love requires learning to accept your limits and recognising your strengths, then build upon the latter to mitigate your shortcomings. The process feels arduous because it is. Introspection involves scouring the familiar for the rare, like trying to spot the gem among rows of shops in the neighbourhood you barely glance at usually. Fine-tune your senses and what you'd notice afterwards might surprise you.

Once this becomes natural, you (probably) don't need anyone to boost your morale, but let your inner circle kick you in the butt should you start becoming an asshole. As AC pointed out, China's current animation boom is proof that the nation is learning to love itself Dreamworks-style, so you can, too. "There's no secret ingredient. It's just you."

So I'm starting to write again, and though listicles almost every week with an occasional post in between isn't what some call progress, it's a whole lot better than leaving massive, yawning gaps in the blog publishing schedule. What's important is to "show up", as dictated by the author of the book, Atomic Habits.

And showing up every week has borne fruit. Writing these days is much easier than it was for the past three to four years, even if there was no pandemic. For a long time, I wondered whether anything was worth writing about any more. No longer. So I'm keeping my listicles; reading up for them has helped me find things to write about, and several bullet points eventually became full-fledged posts.

To think, the answer to my writing block was the thing I used to do without too much thought, to keep the blog from stagnating.

Returning to reviews, albeit on a personal level, might take a little longer. But thanks to a few new books, I can start reading without being (too) critical again. It'll be an expensive hobby now that books cost more, and I can't cover the additional costs, but I'd like to think I'm investing in myself.

Man, I'd like things to stay this way for a while longer.