[As another
semester comes to a close, I’ll reflect on some of my fall courses and conversations,
focusing this time on moments and ways that they were relevant to our own
moment. I’d love to hear your Fall 2016 reflections as well!]
What three
under-read Gilded Age literary works can help us analyze in 2016 America.
1)
The Squatter and
the Don (1885): Back in September, when it was still possible to see
Donald Trump as something of a joke, I wrote this
piece for the Huffington Post on
why Trump should read María Amparo Ruiz de Burton’s historical novel. Now that
the joke is entirely on us, it’d be that much more important for our
president-elect, and all Americans, to read a novel that can help us engage
with the longstanding histories, stories, and oppressions of Mexican
American communities. That’s not just because Trump has promised so many
policies that would target Mexican Americans and Mexico in various ways, but
also and even more importantly because works like Ruiz de Burton’s remind us
that America has always included such communities, such diversity, such
multi-lingualism, such a cross-cultural mixture. Her book, that is, not only highlights
some of our darker and more discriminatory (and sadly still all too salient) histories,
but also helps us remember how vital all our communities have been to the
nation’s greatness.
2)
“An
Experiment in Misery” and “An Experiment in
Luxury” (1894): File this entry in the “lifelong learning” category, as I
had never heard of, much less read, these two interconnected Stephen Crane
short stories until I assigned Broadview’s
edition of Maggie, a Girl of the
Streets (1893) in last year’s section of this course. While I still
like Maggie for its raw and gritty
realism, I think the two “Experiment” stories—in which an unnamed youth lives
for a time first as a New York homeless man and then as part of the city’s
uber-wealthy—are even more unique and compelling. For one thing, they engage
with their respective communities with a great degree of empathy and humanity,
allowing Crane to move beyond the types and stereotypes that often come along
with our images and narratives of class at either extreme. Yet for another, “Luxury”
does not let its rich characters off the hook—even taken on its own terms, the
story allows the protagonist to understand how wealth can warp one’s social
perspective; and in tandem with “Misery,” the lesson is even clearer and more
vital.
3)
“In
the Land of the Free” (c. 1900): As I detailed in that post, Sui
Sin Far’s short story offers an ironic and tragic window into Chinese
American lives, histories, and settings in the Exclusion Act era; as we
contemplate new exclusion acts of our own, we would do well to better remember that
Gilded Age law and its effects. But like all great literary works, Far’s story
isn’t limited to that particular context, and also has a great deal to tell us
about the conflict between exclusionary and inclusive narratives of American
identity. That’s a conflict I’m increasingly certain has defined our country
from its origins, and one that has returned with a vengeance in this
post-election moment of hateful rhetoric and bigoted violence. Even New York’s
wonderful Tenement Museum has witnessed xenophobic outbursts, many directed
at the museum’s images and stories of Chinese American arrivals. Whether we see
our moment as a new Gilded Age or a period with unique conflicts all its own,
there’s no doubt that we need to read Far’s story, and all these Gilded Age
authors and works, to engage with where we find ourselves today.
Next reflection tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Reflections you’d share?
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