I don't review YA books, but this controversy is so big that even I heard about it. The Bloomsbury USA publishing house put a white model on the cover of Justine Larbalester's book Liar, though the protagonist is out and out described as a black girl. Then, it happened again. Bloomsbury (you would think they would learn) put a white model on the cover of Magic Under Glass by Jaclyn Dolamore. Maybe they thought they could sneak this one by since the protagonist is simply described as dark-skinned.
Other bloggers know more and can speak more eloquently on this subject than I, though I would like to mention that this is the latest in a series of coincidental events that I have experienced or heard about that touches on the images of black people that are most prominent and most accepted in our society.
I have a pet peeve about the fact that most Children's books with black protagonists are "problem books." Once you get past picture books and into "chapter books," most books have their black characters experiencing some pretty heavy stuff -- and just try to find a Young Adult book with an African American character that doesn't also have either abuse, abandonment, drugs, crime, violence, addiction, slavery, or racism as one of it's subjects. The Kimani Tru series may be one exception -- as well as a book about a bookish African American teen who hooks up with a football player from her school -- can't remember the name -- and I never read any of these, so I have no clue as to the quality of the writing in these books.
There are many fine authors and many fine books out there that address heavy issues, and I do believe that it is important that problems that some African Americans have faced and are facing are addressed in novels, but it would be nice to be able to offer an African American teen a good book to read that didn't include "drama" of the type that we always see connected with black people in the news and entertainment. I had a conversation about this with a library patron, and while we were on the same page to a point, he basically said publishers and tv and movie executives (not to mention the music business) push us into being how they see us. It kinda made me cringe, as I'm not a fan of conspiracy theories, but now I see his point. NPR had an interview with Lydia Diamond, who wrote the play Stick Fly about an upper middle class African American family who vacations on Martha's Vineyard. She said "America has a real comfort zone with seeing African-Americans in certain ways" — in short, seeing them as oppressed." I can hear the same people who said that The Cosby Show was unrealistic objecting to the plausibility of the existence of this family, but honestly, I know families like this exist, because I saw them when my wannabe bourgie behind was vacationing on MV with family and wishing that we had had a house on Oak Bluffs for generations like some of the kids I met. (I also wanted a summer romance with a cute bourgie black guy and to fit in, too, but that never happened!)
I also remember the books that I loved as a young person, and unfortunately, I don't remember a whole lot of them being about black kids -- maybe because my small town middle class black girl self - who was mostly concerned about wanting to be popular and wishing that the cute guy in class would notice me - didn't see herself reflected or inspired by stories about slavery, civil rights, or some variation on "oh, my daddy left, my momma's got two jobs, we're about to get thrown out on the street, my brother is a drug dealer and my best-friend/sister is pregnant." That is reality for some kids (though hopefully not all those issues at once!), and slavery and civil rights are my history, but that shouldn't be all we have available to read about. In the case of the blogger from Reading in Color, her middle school age sister says "she would rather read a book about a white teen than a person of color because 'we aren't as pretty or interesting'." There's my point. It's not true that we aren't as pretty or interesting -- what is true is that the imaginations of those who market books, television and movies aren't big enough to see that we actually are, even when writers and readers can see it.
To make a long story just a little longer, this relates to the "cover story" because I think the reason that Bloomsbury felt they could switch out the character and make an obvious person of color within the book a white person on the outside of the book was because that character was dealing with issues not traditionally assigned to black people (as in "this is your issue; this is what you and yours consist of.") Think about when the book Make Lemonade by Virginia Euwer Wolff came out -- people assumed that LaVaughn was African American even though Wolff made no attempt to describe her physically. Why was that? Because she's the child of a single mother, growing up in public housing, determined not to have a life like the teen single mother she babysits for. Wow. That, in turn, denies the existence of poor white (or Asian, or Native American, or Latino) girls for whom that story just may be a reality. I respect and admire Wolff's admission that LaVaughn was never intended to be black as well as Larbalester's insistence that Micah (from the book Liar) is supposed to be black.
So, should we avoid race on covers altogether? That's not the answer. What about Reading in Color's little sister? What about girls growing up like me, not seeing themselves reflected on the covers or in the pages of books about ordinary kids as well as those about kids who have had to overcome incredible obstacles.
If you, Mr./Ms. Publisher, think that putting an African American on the cover of a book dooms a book to low sales, or a reader to assuming that the book will be about slavery or a child's struggles on welfare, then you should publish more books where that isn't always the protagonist's story, where a black girl or boy can be a black girl or boy and not be a stereotype or stigmatized for being who they are.
I have a pet peeve about the fact that most Children's books with black protagonists are "problem books." Once you get past picture books and into "chapter books," most books have their black characters experiencing some pretty heavy stuff -- and just try to find a Young Adult book with an African American character that doesn't also have either abuse, abandonment, drugs, crime, violence, addiction, slavery, or racism as one of it's subjects. The Kimani Tru series may be one exception -- as well as a book about a bookish African American teen who hooks up with a football player from her school -- can't remember the name -- and I never read any of these, so I have no clue as to the quality of the writing in these books.
There are many fine authors and many fine books out there that address heavy issues, and I do believe that it is important that problems that some African Americans have faced and are facing are addressed in novels, but it would be nice to be able to offer an African American teen a good book to read that didn't include "drama" of the type that we always see connected with black people in the news and entertainment. I had a conversation about this with a library patron, and while we were on the same page to a point, he basically said publishers and tv and movie executives (not to mention the music business) push us into being how they see us. It kinda made me cringe, as I'm not a fan of conspiracy theories, but now I see his point. NPR had an interview with Lydia Diamond, who wrote the play Stick Fly about an upper middle class African American family who vacations on Martha's Vineyard. She said "America has a real comfort zone with seeing African-Americans in certain ways" — in short, seeing them as oppressed." I can hear the same people who said that The Cosby Show was unrealistic objecting to the plausibility of the existence of this family, but honestly, I know families like this exist, because I saw them when my wannabe bourgie behind was vacationing on MV with family and wishing that we had had a house on Oak Bluffs for generations like some of the kids I met. (I also wanted a summer romance with a cute bourgie black guy and to fit in, too, but that never happened!)
I also remember the books that I loved as a young person, and unfortunately, I don't remember a whole lot of them being about black kids -- maybe because my small town middle class black girl self - who was mostly concerned about wanting to be popular and wishing that the cute guy in class would notice me - didn't see herself reflected or inspired by stories about slavery, civil rights, or some variation on "oh, my daddy left, my momma's got two jobs, we're about to get thrown out on the street, my brother is a drug dealer and my best-friend/sister is pregnant." That is reality for some kids (though hopefully not all those issues at once!), and slavery and civil rights are my history, but that shouldn't be all we have available to read about. In the case of the blogger from Reading in Color, her middle school age sister says "she would rather read a book about a white teen than a person of color because 'we aren't as pretty or interesting'." There's my point. It's not true that we aren't as pretty or interesting -- what is true is that the imaginations of those who market books, television and movies aren't big enough to see that we actually are, even when writers and readers can see it.
To make a long story just a little longer, this relates to the "cover story" because I think the reason that Bloomsbury felt they could switch out the character and make an obvious person of color within the book a white person on the outside of the book was because that character was dealing with issues not traditionally assigned to black people (as in "this is your issue; this is what you and yours consist of.") Think about when the book Make Lemonade by Virginia Euwer Wolff came out -- people assumed that LaVaughn was African American even though Wolff made no attempt to describe her physically. Why was that? Because she's the child of a single mother, growing up in public housing, determined not to have a life like the teen single mother she babysits for. Wow. That, in turn, denies the existence of poor white (or Asian, or Native American, or Latino) girls for whom that story just may be a reality. I respect and admire Wolff's admission that LaVaughn was never intended to be black as well as Larbalester's insistence that Micah (from the book Liar) is supposed to be black.
So, should we avoid race on covers altogether? That's not the answer. What about Reading in Color's little sister? What about girls growing up like me, not seeing themselves reflected on the covers or in the pages of books about ordinary kids as well as those about kids who have had to overcome incredible obstacles.
If you, Mr./Ms. Publisher, think that putting an African American on the cover of a book dooms a book to low sales, or a reader to assuming that the book will be about slavery or a child's struggles on welfare, then you should publish more books where that isn't always the protagonist's story, where a black girl or boy can be a black girl or boy and not be a stereotype or stigmatized for being who they are.
My rant is done.
