[Another entry
in my biannual
series on interesting and impressive new
releases in AmericanStudies. Add your favorite works, new or old, in
comments for a crowd-sourced weekend reading list!]
On the book that
helps correct a significant historical omission—and why that’s not its best
effect.
In the first of a series of Veteran’s Day posts I
wrote for the great We’re History site, I
highlighted a number of stories of Chinese Americans who fought in the Civil
War. As I highlighted in that post, I had been led to that topic by (among other
texts, but hers was certainly the most prominent) historian and novelist Ruthanne Lum McCunn’s book Chinese
Yankee: A True Story from the U.S. Civil War (Design Enterprises of San
Francisco, 2014). As of that writing I hadn’t had a chance to read McCunn’s
book yet (it was released on Veteran’s Day); now that I have, I can confirm
that she tells the truly remarkable story of Thomas
Sylvanus (Ah Yee Way) with power and skill, employing both a historian’s
skill at providing details and contexts and a novelist’s talents for story and
suspense. And indeed, I would argue that both the historical and the novelistic
sides to McCunn’s work are worth highlighting—but that the latter is
particularly noteworthy.
Historically
speaking, McCunn’s book can help fill in some serious gaps in our collective
memories. One of the central arguments of my Chinese
Exclusion Act book was that
Americans don’t remember at all our originating multicultural community and
identity, as exemplified by our collective sense of the Chinese American
community as a 20th and 21st century one (as opposed to
its continuous presence here since the late 18th century);
remembering prominent individual mid-19th century Chinese Americans
like Sylvanus would be an important first step in correcting that broader
omission. Similarly, I think we’ve been terrible at remembering the multicultural
histories and stories connected to our wars and conflicts—that would include the
hugely diverse army that fought
and won the Battle of New Orleans, for example; and is likewise illustrated
by Chinese American Civil War soldiers such as Sylvanus and the others about
whom I wrote in that aforementioned post. Given the prominent role and status which
we accord military leaders and heroes in our national narratives, better remembering
these multicultural soldiers and stories would be a particularly effective way
to broader our understandings of American identity overall.
It’s not enough
just to say we have to better remember figures or histories, however—we also
have to find ways to highlight and narrate them compellingly enough to draw and
sustain our collective interest and engagement. And on that note, McCunn’s
novelistic side offers a potent illustration of the importance of finding and
telling good stories in achieving those effects. I’m far
from the first observer to note that academic
writing would benefit from a far more consistent and central role
for storytelling, but I would most definitely agree with that assessment. I
know that story can seem the antithesis of analysis: simple and streamlined
rather than complex and layered, for example. But it’s not either-or, as McCunn’s
historically rich and layered yet novelistically narrated book nicely
illustrates. And by keeping the story and its telling central to her purposes
throughout, she does the thing that all writers hope and need to do: engage
with her audience, draw them into her work and guide them through its different
moments, elements, and ideas. I can think of no more crucial effect for any
book, AmericanStudies or otherwise.
Last new book
tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What
AmericanStudies books would you recommend?
No comments:
Post a Comment