Literature

The phrase 'empathy machine' was first used to describe the way that watching films can give the viewer an understanding of what it is like to be someone different (different age, gender, nationality, etc.). More recently, it has been used in reference to virtual reality technologies and their ability to allow users to 'embody' someone else. The claims of both of these mediums as empathy machines rests upon their alleged ability to allow the viewer/player to understand and feel what others feel. This empathy is, of course, something they cannot get from their own life as they do not have the same shared experiences that the machine is allowing them to have. Thus, these tools as empathy machines are profound.

But, to what extent can literature be seen as a so-called empathy machine? Using a selection of texts, discuss how they can provide the reader with the knowledge necessary to empathise with those depicted in the texts. This could include fiction, where the reader is learning about the life of someone unreal. Or, it could be non-fiction, where the reader is learning of the life of a real person. Ensure that the specific empathetic qualities of literature are discussed. This might include literature's reliance on imagination, or the way that written texts allow for lengthy and in-depth first-hand accounts.

The potential writer of this topic could provide an overall assessment; is literature more or less effective than film or V.R. in creating empathy? Why/why not?

Recently, talk among book enthusiasts has circulated that YA dystopia has burned out. The genre is certainly huge, but whether it's burned out, cliched, or tired in any way depends on whose books you read. Are there certain authors who give YA dystopia a burned out feel? Are there authors, or characters, who have brought fresh situations or themes to the genre? And if the genre is burned out right now, how might it be "revived?" Discuss.

Analyze the psychological and traumatic effect that marginalizing can have on the minority groups portrayed in the modern fiction. As it happens, othering and subordinating certain groups of people can traumatize them on a daily, which may give rise to a specific behavior and neurosis in such social others.

From reams of fairytale retellings, to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, from Meg and Jo to Circe, the literary world bursts with retellings of classic novels. The smorgasbord of material grows every day, giving rise to multifaceted questions. What sets one retelling of a classic apart from another (why, for instance, might someone choose the Little Women retelling So Many Beginnings over Meg and Jo, and its companion novel, Beth and Amy)? Do some classics lend themselves to retellings better than others? Perhaps most intriguing of all, what is the benefit, for writers and readers, of retelling classics and/or reshaping them for a current audience? Once these classics are reshaped or retold, are they classics any longer? Discuss.

When it comes to film and and television adaptations of literature and novel mediums, it is largely understood that the omission of certain details or scenes is due to constrictions of budget or time. However, another method of adaptation has been the combination of certain characters, dialogues, and plot points/events to 'ease' the understanding of the adaptation under the guise of the aforementioned. For example, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss's adaptation of A Song of Ice and Fire, made the choice of changing the names of certain characters so that the audience would not get confused by the extensive catalog of main characters. George R.R. Martin's original purpose for including character's of the same name or namesakes is because that is a quality of real-life. This is a small example, but I am interested in reading where other writers and readers can identify where a seemingly harmless change or omission of detail is actually a veiled attempt at maintaining an audience's attention and therefore their wallet.

Modernist texts are often heavily fragmented – the plot is jumbled and does not follow a simple beginning to end chronology. This can be off-putting for many readers as it can make a story hard to follow and less immersive.

However, what are the benefits and what does writing in fragments achieve? An article could look at a selection of texts that are fragmented and offer an analysis of what this particular structure is doing.

For example, in Kaddish for an Unborn Child by Imre Kertesz, the plot keeps circling back to the same line, its repetition representing the repetitive trauma it has caused the protagonist. Or, in The Corpse Washer by Sinan Antoon, the plot is broken up by page long chapters detailing the nightmares had by the protagonist which can show how they interject in his life just as they have interjected into the plot.
There are many works of literature that fragment the narrative and do so for thoughtful and strategic reasons. Thus, exploring texts that do this meaningfully could be an interesting read!

This week, Slate.com's parenting column, Care and Feeding, ran a letter from the concerned parent of a school-age child. The child's majority-white class, led by a white teacher, had been reading Bound for Oregon as part of an Oregon Trail unit. This book, written in the '90s, contains the N word. (From all indications, the parent and student are white, also).

The parent expressed concern because when they went to the teacher, she simply said she told the students the N word "is not a nice word," they did not have to say it (when reading aloud in small groups), and the class would discuss the word "later." However, the discussion had not happened, and the parent wondered whether to pull the child out of the class/school over the teacher's response.

Unfortunately, Bound for Oregon is not the first historical kids' or YA book to contain this word or other slurs, nor is it the first kids may be required to read in school. In 2020, what is the best way to handle this? Is there any historical kids' and YA lit that stays true to its historical background without using slurs or outdated attitudes? Are those attitudes "necessary" or "object lessons"–in other words, would "cancelling" them deprive kids of so-called classics or needed info? Does the classroom makeup–the race of the students or teacher, orientations, ability levels, etc.–make a difference? If it does, at what point should related literature be introduced or handled (e.g., how should we handle Holocaust literature when the majority of a class is practicing Jewish? Should able-bodied students be required to read literature about disabled characters, when their school has a segregated special ed program)? Discuss.

Young adult literature has seen a needed explosion of Black protagonists lately, and particularly Black females. Many of these new protagonists are also involved in Black Lives Matter or similar, sometimes fictionalized, organizations. They may be involved with other fictionalized organizations like Innocence X (The Innocence Project), seeking justice for incarcerated loved ones. Some Black female protagonists also rap, blog, or otherwise create to have their voices heard, and face both support and backlash.

Examine the voice and portrayal of the young Black woman in today's YA literature. Who is she? Is her representation fair and nuanced, or do a lot of her incarnations look the same (and why is that)? If you choose to discuss historical Black females, how are current fictional protagonists different from those written in past decades? What do Black female characters have in common, and how do they differ from each other as well as other races? Who are some of your favorites, and/or whose stories do you think today's young adults should read first if they're trying to gain an understanding of Black, female personhood?