The Power Of The Written Word: "Naftali Please Ban My Book"

The power of art, in its different forms, has always been acknowledged, and sometimes, in order to control its effect, authorities limit the access of the pubic to different works of art. Throughout history books have often been banned because of the belief that they could affect the minds of the readers and corrupt them.

Like our officials in the Ministry of Education I also believe in the power of art, in particular the novel,  to influence the reader and to change his/her opinions. Moreover, when we consider the minds of our young readers we must be careful in our choices

But unfortunately today, in contrast to the days when books were almost the only source of knowledge and ideas, the written word ,inside the traditional book, has lost its clout. There are many effective and immediate forms of communication which could prove much more powerful and even harmful.

Research has consistently shown that during adolescence students hardly read at all. As a result, this reality makes the decision which books they should read, as part of the curriculum, much more significant.

The criterion for choosing the best books for students, those which will stay with them as they go about life, has not changed throughout the ages. In the 17th century the English writer and literary critic, John Dryden pronounced that a good book has to instruct and to delight, and many other thinkers before him said similar things.

I read in Ha’aretz that banning Rabinian’s novel Borderlife led to some serious discussions, in ten high-schools, centering on the question whether literature could be immoral.

I am not going to discuss this question here, but instead I would like to give an example.

Great novels often provide an opportunity to expose youngsters to philosophical questions.  Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is such a book, and if it is to be taught to teen-agers, the teacher must focus not only on the problematic content of the novel, but show the students how to become  a critical reader.

Since the story is told in the first person, from the point of view of protagonist Humbert Humbert, the students have to become familiar with the technique of unreliable narrator. They have to be able to trace how the author, Valdimir Nabokov, implicitly criticizes his narrator, so that the reader would be able to condemn his actions as well..

On the surface Lolita is the best example of immoral literature, it is about a pedophile, a criminal, and perhaps it is best if young minds stay away from this work of art for fear of turning into criminals. However, like all great literature, Lolita  is much more than that and, if taught properly, it could force students to examine their values and beliefs, and make them aware on their own ethical flaws. The book is written so well that the reader could easily gloss over the crimes which are committed  by the convincing  narrator.

I  believe that books which present serious ethical conflicts should be taught in high schools. But they deserves special attention, and teachers must be equipped with the necessary background and sensitivity in order to introduce such texts to their students.

Even before the age of information people have always been fascinated with lists, among them we could find the “greatest books ever written.” Many of those books, such as Huckleberry Finn, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Ulysses and of course Lolita, had also been banned and then gained a huge popularity:

The same happened to Dorit Rabinyan, once she  joined the long, and respectable, list of banned books her popularity soared and her books literally disappeared off the shelves. All the while, her fellow writers, who are struggling in today's economy, are left to plead with the Education Minister: "Naftali please ban my book."

iThe essay appeared in the Times Of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-power-of-the-written-word-naftali-please-ban-my-book/

The Dangers Of Art And Ideas: Between Mike Leigh And Miri Regev

At the end of a gallery talk at Yale about his latest film Mr. Turner, Mike Leigh said: “The audience is a collection of people who are at least as intelligent as me.” He added that it didn’t matter how much the audience knew in terms of general knowledge of the subject, what mattered was that he assumed nothing and conveyed his message in a clear way.

Mike Leigh said those things to a full house of especially intelligent listeners, most of whom knew Turner’s work well. His lecture was  part of the annual Festival of Arts and Ideas in New Haven.

Mike Leigh is right : previous knowledge of art is not a prerequisite for enjoyment as long as the message is clear. Mr Turner is an important and enjoyable film for viewers who know Turner’s work well, and also for those who were introduced to him for the first time.

Please keep reading in the Times Of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-dangers-of-art-and-ideas-between-mike-leigh-and-miri-regev/

London Underground Map: On Being Colour Blind

 JUL.25.2013 

The other day my partner and I were discussing a meeting place in London and he asked (in Hebrew of course) “Could you please remind me which colour is that tube line?”

I had to stop and think, as the answer did not come naturally to me.  While I remember the names of the lines, I do not associate them with their colours on the map. This, I realize, is another manifestation of my colour blindness.

I was not aware of my colour blindness until my late twenties. We were already in the US,  graduate students at a university town in the Midwest. At a regular check–up at the university hospital clinic, the doctor showed me a series of colourful shapes and  then asked: “Who else in your family is colour blind?" "Color blind?  But only men are colour blind.” The doctor agreed that while red/green colour blindness was indeed rare among women, it existed.

 In writing this post I looked for explanations online, and Wiki had a clear answer:

Colour blindness is the inability to differentiate between different colors. The most common type is red-green colour blindness. This occurs in 8 percent of males and 0.4 percent of females. It occurs when either the red or green cones are not present or not functioning properly. People with this problem are not completely unable to see red or green, but often confuse the two colours. This is an inherited disorder and affects men more commonly since the capacity for colour vision is located on the X chromosome. (Women have two X chromosomes, so the probability of inheriting at least one X with normal colour vision is high; men have only one X chromosome to work with. The inability to see any colour, or seeing only in different shades of gray, is very rare.

From this explanation I understand that due to its rareness, color blindness among women was not tested when I was growing up. Moreover, even before I enlisted in the army, when we went through a through physical examination, it remained undetected.

 Throughout the years I learnt to ask specific questions about colors and to consult with people who were not color blind. I never thought about color blindness and art until we lived in Iowa City. Being close to several Amish colonies, I had the privilege of getting to know their beautiful artistic quilt work. An artist told me once of the hypothesis that one reason their colors schemes are so different and striking was because many of them were color blind. I am not sure whether it is true but it is encouraging to think that one can use this disorder to create art.

I often wonder about reaching decisions which are based on isufficent information or partial  knowledge. Being color blind is a good example of not having all the visual information. Thus sitting in London in someone else’s home looking at the paintings on the walls, I remember my own walls back home. Most of my pictures are in black and white. It is not that I don’t appreciate colors, quite the contrary, but when it comes to acquiring art I intuitively choose black and white pictures. Perhaps in this kind of decision, which is private and personal, I do not trust someone else’s eyes, or perhaps I need to feel that this is my level playing field, where at least on the surface, I can see it all and don't miss a thing.

Young, Restless and Extremely Gifted: The Israeli Painter Zoya

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You can never know what you will find on Facebook, I often think of it as a virtual bazaar or a giant T.J.  Maxx  store. It offers an array of unrelated, mostly irrelevant, information. However,  there is always a chance to  find a real  gem.

The  painter Zoya Obianuju Cherkassky-Nnadi  is such a gem. I was first introduced to her when someone shared on my wall several paintings from her series “Aliya 91.” Those paintings realistically depict scenes from the new reality of the Russian immigrants who came to Israel in the early 90s (the young Zoya and her family were among them). The paintings were clever, funny and insightful.

Looking at the one devoted to the Russian culture week in Ashdod, I found myself laughing out loud even though it wasn't really funny.

Please keep reading in my Times Of Israel blog

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/welcome-to-the-russian-culture-week-in-ashdod-the-israeli-painter-zoya-obianuju-cherkassky-nnad/

Our Student Loans Or About Art And Culture

As a student of Art History, I landed a perfect job at the university art library. There I was surrounded by precious art books, and was even allowed to check them out. But the main attraction in that library were the other women who worked there.

The three librarians were, then, recent immigrants from Bucharest Romania. They seemed much older to me, but I guess they were only in their early forties. Elegantly dressed and tastefully made-up, in my eyes they were beautiful and glamorous.

They were also erudite and clever, spoke several languages and were well versed in all forms of art.   It was clear that they came from a highly sophisticated background, and were used to a richer life. It was the mid-seventies, Israel was a young country (less than 30 year old) with few resources, relatively short artistic tradtion, and limited access to real culture.

They spoke longingly about the concerts, the plays, the operas and the ballets which they enjoyed, almost for free, in their old country. I was very impressed, and even jealous, when they told me that in Bucharest they went out almost every night.

Even after they arrived to Haifa, my  provincial home town, they kept up their cultural persuits. They were critical of course of the inferior quality and the high cost of our local culture. But they still attended every performance and travelled to all the exhibitions at the museums in Israel.

 Their commitment to art and culture beguilled me; going home I repeated the librarians' stories to my husband Tzvi who became increasingly impatient with me. Soon I noticed that he had stopped listening whenever I started talking about the three refined ladies of the library. At first I didn’t understand why and couldn't see what bothered him. Their life style was for me a source of inspiration, and I wanted him to hear all the details.

 But then I realized that he disliked, what he perceived as, my hero worshipping, and was worried that the more I talked about life so rich with art and culture, the more dissatisfied I would become with our own reality. At that point we were both students and had no extra money at all, so consuming art or culture was out of the question.

But he had an idea: when we got our student loans Tzvi suggested that we would  use that money to go to Italy for the summer. He wanted me to see up close those works of art which I had only seen in my art books. So we consulted my text book, the Janson's History of Art: The Western Tradition and made a plan.

At that time Italy was still very inexpensive, and we ended up spending less than 300$ for a whole month (even back then it wasn't much). We hitch hiked our way across the country, slept in campsites, and got fresh food at the markets. It was a wonderful summer and an opportunity to taste life rich with art and culture.

Whenever we entered a museum, or a church, Tzvi reminded me to take my time and see "everything.” In the meantime he usually walked around for a short while and then sat down comfortably gazing at one object.

Tzvi was right, we couldn't find a more educational use for our students loans.

 P.S. This is a link to a post about our summer in Italy back in the seventies

http://redroom.com/member/orna-b-raz/blog/when-in-rome-do-as-the-romans-...