Dr. Mary Galbraith’s “The Deictic Imaginary: Literature as Creation”

On Wednesday, October 30th, The National Center for the Study of Children’s Literature at SDSU had the honor of hosting Dr. Mary Galbraith for her talk, “The Deictic Imaginary: Literature as Creation.”

Our director, Dr. Joseph Thomas, began by thanking all who have made the event possible: the library (especially Linda Salem and Markel Tumlin), the graduate assistants (Sofia and Ashley), and Dr. Mary Galbraith herself. He then introduced our guest, saying she is a woman who works to “respect the child” in her research. The full text of his introduction is included below:

Dr. Mary Galbraith has always struck me as the prototypical SoCal woman. A salient exemplar, really. You see, Mary grew up in Los Angeles, shuttling between her Southern California home and a home across the sea, in London. After finishing high school, Mary headed a little south to UC Irvine, attending that legendary school during its first year. Afterwards, she left her SoCal home for Berkeley, where her worldly, cosmopolitan, SoCal grooviness was enriched and complicated by the student protests going on during 1969, the high-water mark of the 60’s youthful, utopian hopefulness. I’m put in mind of the famous passage from Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . .

But on that cresting wave came, as Mary explains in an interview, “tanks on campus; helicopters flying over dropping tear gas.” She got out, had a kid, lived her life, returning to school in the 80s, eventually settling at SUNY Buffalo, a spot that couldn’t be more different than SoCal.

But Mary flourished there, working as a graduate assistant for the Cognitive Science Graduate Group. She worked on her doctorate in English while taking courses in philosophy, psychology, computer science, child language acquisition. The searching intelligence that came of age traveling back and forth between London and Los Angeles, primed for difference, for unexpected confluences and concatenations began developing the interdisciplinary approach we’d come to call “Childhood Studies,” a theoretical and practical academic approach that puts into conversation the resonant insights of literature, psychology, history, anthropology, and neurobiology as a means of better understanding childhood, a time in which the child’s varied experiences of the world has yet to calcify into rigid categories. Although I wouldn’t call her a Romantic (not to her face), she does respect the child and its novel experience of the still-new world, Wordsworth’s “Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! […] “whose exterior semblance” (if you’ll forgive my shift into second person)

[…] doth belie

Thy Soul's immensity;

Thou best Philosopher, who yet
dost keep

Thy heritage, thou Eye among the
blind,

That, deaf and silent, read’st the
eternal deep,

Haunted for ever by the eternal
mind[.]

Mary’s ranging, complex, and groundbreaking scholarly work serves the interests of – as she puts it – “feeling from the other side,” of understanding as best we’re able, the child’s existential situation from the child’s perspective, a critical paradigm suggestive of what Peter Hunt would come to call “childist” criticism. Mary’s work is marked by a desire to articulate the child's experience as rigorously as possible using all the theoretical and scientific and literary critical tools available to us. Today, we’ll get a taste of that project.

But first, knowing how important students are to Mary’s work (she exemplifies the scholar/teacher model) I’d like to invite one of her students, Ashley, to the front of the room, to give Mary the kind of introduction I’m unable to give.

Graduate Assistant Ashley Nguyen then took the stage to describe her work under Dr. Mary Galbraith: 

It was my honor to be Dr. Galbraith’s student last fall in her English 501: Literature for Children course. Professor Galbraith’s class was my first encounter with the study of children’s literature. The theme was “fantasy and a touch of the real,” which highlighted the authorial background that underlies the fantastical aspects of familiar texts such as Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” and Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book. She showed us how children’s literature provides a place for authors to work through childhood traumas, reimagine difficult relationships, and create alternative narratives in which the child character has unprecedented agency. This course was also my first scholarly encounter with Asian art and critique; we utilized Japanese aesthetics to analyze picture books and Hayao Miyazaki’s movies. 

Dr. Galbraith is stunningly dedicated to her scholarship. As a student just barely entering the children’s literature field, I was shocked at the complexity of her research and how much time and effort she gave it – on top of all of the courses she was teaching! Even so, she always gave her students her full attention, meeting us where we were and yet challenging us to push ourselves further, to think critically about even our most cherished childhood stories and movies. Furthermore, she taught that while academic critique is valuable, we can still appreciate texts for the affective responses they evoke. These insights affirmed my interest in studying children’s literature at the graduate level, and now I focus my research on Asian American children’s literature that reflects the lived experience of its authors and readers. I owe much of my growth as a scholar to my experience in her classroom, and it is a huge honor and privilege to introduce Dr. Mary Galbraith!  

Dr. Galbraith's lecture clearly communicated her stunning dedication to research as well as teaching. Her passionate discussion of the deictic imaginary eschewed the markers of a conventional academic lecture, more closely resembling her work in the classroom. As rigorous as she was clear and convivial, Dr. Galbraith began by explaining that deixis precedes language while language allows people to create transportable or translatable deixis.

In the deictic imaginary, Dr. Galbraith reminded, a storyteller invents and the listener (or reader) collaborates in that invention. She explains this concept further: “It is important to note, fiction is not untrue at all, since fictional narration is a creation, not a statement. Only statements can have truth or untruth.” Dr. Galbaith emphasizes that fictional language creates imaginary presence. When we read, we create these stories, and often children are much better at making an imaginary world than adults are. Dr. Galbraith feels that “imagination is, in my mind, the most precious thing the human race has made”. She praised readers for the ability to mentally envision entire worlds, following an author’s “very long conversational turn that ends whenever you decide to stop reading.” 

Come Away From the Water, Shirley by John Burningham

Dr. Galbraith used an image from Come Away From the Water, Shirley to emphasize the bifurcation between adults focused on settling on the beach and sipping their coffee, and the child who views the ocean with limitless possibility. She noted that the child is constantly forced to repress her curiosity. Dr. Galbraith went on to describe poetic narrative theory and quoted that “a fictive reality ‘is’ only by virtue of its being narrated” (Hamburger 136). 

Dr. Galbraith had prepared her 1989 dissertation abstract to share with us, but was unable to due to time constraints. She explained that much of what she had written about then was relevant to what she is doing now. She looks forward to meeting up with the “twenty other people in the world who are really focused on [deixis]” at an international conference in the coming year.

According to Dr. Galbraith, mimesis is the flip of deixis. She gestured to a chair, indicating that while an author captures presence in words, the reader imagines by turning words into presence. Deixis is the author’s performance of presence in words, and mimesis is the reader’s following of “the outstretched finger” through imagination. 

Dr. Galbraith explored The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. Andersen creates a compelling and heart-wrenching story of this “Little Match Girl” who after suffering from abuse by her father is sent out into the cold world with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few matches. Set in the time of many children dying, the young girl’s experience outweighs the narrator’s comments on the text. Dr. Galbraith emphatically takes the side of children in stories such as this. She notes that the only other person with any real personality is the boy who steals the girl’s slippers. 

Illustration from Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen

Andersen’s book is vital for background in a study of children’s literature, as he is considered the first author actually writing for children and representing the voices of children. Dr. Galbraith argues that “The Little Match Girl” is not didactically aimed towards children, but rather condemns adults, who in the tale do nothing to help the dying girl.

The event concluded with a Q&A session during which students asked about the pedagogical repercussions of this topic, about further resources, and how to better assist students with learning disabilities.

Dr. Phillip Serrato and Dr. Joseph Thomas pose with Dr. Galbraith.

The NCSCL is grateful to all who helped make this wonderful event possible. We especially thank Dr. Mary Galbraith! For an audio recording of the full talk with images and presentation slides, please see the link below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_mbtnPGCL4

-(SS) and (AN)

"Living Writers" with Matt de la Peña and Chris Baron

On Wednesday, October 16th, we attended Matt de la Peña and Chris Baron’s poetry readings, presented by SDSU MFA program’s Living Writers series. Matt de la Peña and Chris Baron are both alumni of San Diego State University’s MFA program, and have been friends since their time in the MFA program together. Baron read from his novel in verse, All of Me, and Matt read from his picture book, Love. Witnessing two incredibly talented writers reading from their own work breathed life into their poetry. 

Matt de la Peña is self-described as “a working-class, mixed kid”, who like Baron, took part in sports; Peña attended the University of the Pacific on a basketball scholarship. However, he felt out of place, and says he often felt “like an imposter” both in sports and in writing. Describing his MFA experience, he shared that he “felt like [he] hadn’t read enough books.” 

Chris Baron felt similarly. Baron received his MFA at San Diego State University and is now a professor at San Diego City College. Although clearly a successful writer, he says he felt misplaced in college, even when participating in his school’s rowing team. However, Baron says he felt at home when he was writing, either on his own or for class. He is especially appreciative of the community and sense of belonging he found in the MFA program. He advised the attendees to also develop a community to be vulnerable and encouraged in.

Although both de la Peña and Baron felt out of place in college, their writing talent has shone through and to create a sense of belonging in the world of literature. Chris Baron’s published his first poem, “Origins” in 1997, and he didn’t stop there. Baron is the author of the poetry collection, Under the Broom Tree, which was published in the poetry anthology Lantern Tree, winner of the San Diego Book Award. His first novel, All of Me is described by Matt de la Peña as “beautifully written, brilliant, and necessary.” Matt de la Peña is the author of multiple books for children and young adults, including New York Times Bestseller and Newberry Medal winner “Last Stop on Market Street.”

De la Peña brought us behind the scenes of creating his 2018 picture book, Love. 

De la Peña explains how writing a picture book is “nothing different than writing a spoken word poem,” which is transcribed and given to the illustrator, Loren Long, to make into a picture book. Long then “works with text, in the margins, in and out of the letters” to create the stunning illustrations. De la Peña displayed images of how a particular illustration evolved into the form that appears on the pages. An image of a young boy looking out of a window was enhanced with the inclusion of a father catching a bus at dawn. Then Long drew in a brother handing the boy a plate of toast. De la Peña describes this as the first time he changed the text after seeing an illustration: a line memorializing his grandmother’s house slippers became “a slice of burned toast tastes like love.” The image was created through monoprint, a process in which a painting is imprinted onto glass and transferred to a separate sheet. This is done in layers so that the background of just one picture can be made up of several iterations of monoprint. Finally, Long paints on details such as the hair and facial expression. This effort is poignantly apparent in the following image in which a family gathers around a television, hiding a news story from the child’s view.

De la Peña shared that different audiences saw the new story as different things: Houston kids see it as a hurricane, high schoolers imagine a school shooting, and adults view it as 9-11.

De la Peña wanted to make the book as inclusive and accessible as possible for kids, both with how they look and more prevalently, socioeconomically. Although a seemingly simple book, he describes the hard work and thoughtfulness he put into his picture book. Peña shows kids that love isn’t always simple: “If you’re writing about love for kids, you write about… hardships” he says. He shows parents working long hours in the book, and shows some difficulties families may face, such as alcoholism. The mention of alcoholism resulted in a clash between “commerce and art:” a large and popular bookstore chain refused to sell the book for its hint at alcoholism, but neither he nor Long desisted. Thankfully so, because the unchanged picture book better reflects real adversities that children must endure. He and Baron both emphasize “emotional diversity,” understanding that children express their complex feelings in differing ways or not at all. This astute observation is aptly rendered in both Love and All of Me.

 

Baron’s All of Me is a semi-autobiographical middle grade novel in verse that includes both celebrations and hardships that Baron overcame in his life. Wanting All of Me to be accessible to the wide MG audience, he wrote in verse to imbue the text with emotion, and we can say he succeeded in pulling on our heartstrings as he read aloud. A particularly touching and resonant poem is “Fat at the Beach”, which describes the main character, Ari, being too scared to take his shirt off at the beach due to his view of his body. Throughout the novel Ari comes to terms with his own identity and appearance through beautiful and lyrical language.    

Seeing de la Peña and Baron read and discuss their work was such a treat for us. We truly appreciate their time and we also appreciate the SDSU MFA in Creative Writing Program and SDSU Library for making the Living Writers series possible. 

The next Living Writers talk will be with Karen An-hwei on October 30, 2019 at 7:00 PM. 

-(SS) and (AN)

Julián is a Mermaid

Jessica Love’s Julián is a Mermaid is an elegant picture book about a young Afro-Latinx boy, Julián, who loves mermaids. In soft colors and gentle edges, Love creates a dream-like story tugging our heart strings. He dreams of letting his hair free and swimming in the ocean, as shown in dreamy, paint-like illustrations. Upon seeing three beautiful women on the subway dressed as mermaids, Julián reports to his abuela, “I am also a mermaid” (Love, 2018). After seeing these women, he arranges leaves and flowers to resemble long, flowing hair, dons a popping purple pout, and ties a curtain around his waist like a lacy mermaid’s tail. Julián's abuela enters, and the reader’s breath is bound to catch as Julián is discovered dressed in false hair and a tail-like wrap. His abuela, instead of shaming or shushing him, offers him a pearl necklace, and takes him to see a parade of mermaids, saying, “Like you, mijo. Let’s join them.” In this tender moment, his abuela’s complete acceptance and encouragement makes some of us smile, but apparently, not everyone. 

Love was inspired by this book upon hearing about her trans friend’s experience of transition to be a man late in his life, alongside episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race. She tossed around ideas of the young boy encountering drag queens until she stumbled upon the symbolism of a mermaid within the trans community. Love has been drawn to mermaids, and says, “there’s something about mermaids. Who knows if that’s because they’re magical creatures who can live between two realities or because they don’t have any genitals, or because they’re f***ing great” (Pink News 2019). Mermaids became symbolic in the trans community due to having nothing but a tail, and the Disney film The Little Mermaid gained more significance: it portrays a main character desiring to discard her tails for legs to change her form an entire half of her body. Such symbolism seemed to ring true in Julián's narrative. 

While Love’s story can be read as a portrayal of the transgender experience, it can also simply read as a boy expressing his curiosity or love for mermaids, bringing a wide audience of readers-children and adult alike. 

Although this charming book has been winning hearts and awards alike, awards such as the 2019 Stonewall Book Award, many were upset with the depiction of the transgender experience. A blogger known as “The Book Toss”, states “by creating this almost immediate acceptance, Jessica Love negated the real struggle so many Latinx LGBTQ people must go through. Is that is [sic] the message the author is trying to send? Probably. But, it lands flat to me. For me, this comes from a place of privilege that would rather a mermaid trope carry the message and ignore the very real issues at work” (Blog, 2018). 

Despite the potential controversy, we immediately fell for young Julián and his desire to become a mermaid. With messages of tolerance and love, his imagination calls the reader to think outside their prescribed norms to show us that perhaps anyone can be a mermaid. We invite you to open this book and your mind to Love’s beautiful picture book. 

(SS)

Works Cited:

Jackman, Josh. “ Trans Kids’ Book ‘Julián Is a Mermaid’ Is Winning Hearts and Awards .” PinkNews, 17 Feb. 2019, www.pinknews.co.uk/2019/02/17/trans-kids-book-julian-is-a-mermaid-awards/.

Love, Jessica. Julián Is a Mermaid. Candlewick, 2018.

“Trans People Aren't Mythical Creatures.” BookToss, 24 Sept. 2018, booktoss.blog/2018/09/24/trans-people-arent-mythical-creatures/.

Introduction to Literature: Personal Accounts (II)

For this installment of my Introduction to Literature Series, I will be featuring Sequoia Stone. She is a second-year M.A. student in SDSU's English and Comparative Literature department, with a specialization in Children's Literature. This is her first semester teaching and her English 220 course is entitled "Reimagining Canon: Literary Confrontations, Adaptations, and Subversions." The following entries are from Sequoia herself!

X  -  X  -  X

I'd had the idea for my syllabus knocking around in my head for a while, ever since I'd read one of my course texts (The Song of Achilles, a queer re-telling of The Illiad) right after reading The Illiad in a course during my senior year of college. While I knew I would have enjoyed The Song of Achilles on its own, reading it on the heel of The Illiad was a deeply illuminating experience. I understood The Illiad better (I read TSOA in six hours the night before my midterm or the course--whoops!), and I was able to approach The Song of Achilles with the tradition and history of The Illiad informing my reading. As I thought about becoming a professor in the far-off future, I thought I'd love the chance to put The Illiad and The Song of Achilles in conversation for my students. When I was presented with the opportunity to teach 220 here at SDSU, I took this initial parting and poured over the books in my library and memories of my undergraduate years in order to create my syllabus based around the idea of reading a "canon" book with a "non-canon" one. Some of these pairings were direct adaptations, while others were simply two texts that echoed similar themes and ideas.

1. What Children's and young adult books or texts were included in the reading list for your course? How were these texts received by the students?

I have eight course texts, four canon and four non-canon. All of my non-canon books are young adult novels: Madeline Miller's The Song of Achilles, Libba Bray's Beauty Queens, Paolo Bacigalupi's Ship Breaker, and Scott Westerfeld's Uglies. I have gotten mostly a positive response to these books, and they are often just as intellectually challenging to my students as the more dense canon texts. Something I would hear often is that reading the YA companion book made things we discussed in the canon text more accessible, as students were able to use more "relatable" texts as a way to retroactively understand things that might have been more austere in older novels.

2. What other texts lended themselves to discuss childhood and adolescence in nuanced ways that were either unexpected or surprising? 

Something that was surprising and delightful to me in my course was how concerned my students were with the interiority or backstory of a character. When reading Lord of the Flies, a student proposed that maybe Jack was so violence because he had a childhood, or was abused. Similarly, in Great Expectations in my class wondered if the villainous figure of Mrs. Joe was more so a product of her upbringing than anything else. While I like to steer these observations back into textual analysis, I enjoyed seeing my students approach these characters as so three-dimensional that they asked themselves, why are they the way they are? It seems that the importance of childhood, the impact of how one is raised, was at the forefront of my student's minds even when we were reading texts not specifically aimed at children or young adults.

3. How does your class's theme carry over to the matters of childhood and adolescence?

Something my class has emphasized throughout our semester has been the importance of familial bonds, and how the family unit impacts the way one grows. Many of our main characters have had abusive parents or families that encourage negativity, and a lot of our discussion has been based around following these characters as they navigate the repercussions of abuse, of cruelty, or of neglect. We have also talked a lot about found families, the family one creates that provides support or love, and how this constructed family illustrates the importance of things like kindness, generosity, and loyalty. As we've moved through our texts, we've also looked at the various ways in which society pressures children and young adults to conform. Whether this manifests as discouraging queerness, encouraging apathy, or dictating beauty standards, my class has talked extensively about the different ways the characters in our novels face crushing dominant ideologies, as well the ways in which it is possible to resist them.

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Thank you so much to Sequoia Stone for the robust commentary and amazing engagement with themes of childhood and adolescence!

-A. Elliott