Friday, January 7, 2011

Of Thee I Sing -- by Barack Obama and Loren Long

Hello Everyone,

Normally, I avoid politics in these letters. It’s not that I think it unimportant but rather that it is important only when it affects things we care about. I figure I’d rather just cut to the chase and talk about the things we care about. Being one of the primary figures in current U.S. and world politics, President Obama, therefore, hasn’t featured in many of my writings. However, a few months ago, his first children’s book, Of Thee I Sing, was released. This is obviously something I care about. I had mixed feelings about the book before I saw it. On the one hand, I loved his first book, Dreams From My Father, because of his ability to capture elements and themes of his own story in such an eloquent and evocative way. It was written before he entered the political arena, and it is a man’s voice that sustains the narrative, not a politician’s.

And yet, on the other hand, I’m skeptical of children’s books written by celebrities, and I think most people in the industry are. I suspect this stems in part from deflated egos. Who wants to admit that something she does as a full-time profession could be done far more successfully (at least in terms of recognition and revenue) by someone else who considers it a mere hobby?

But there are specific instances where it is clear that it is a person’s name that sells the book, not the quality of the work in it. In my picture book creative writing class, we became convinced that Katie Couric’s The Brand New Kid was actually written not for children, but as a manual to all children’s writers advising them what not to do. And so, I approached Obama’s book warily. He can certainly write well for adults, but how does he fare with the younger citizens he serves? And even if the book were well written, the brilliance of a picture book is the marriage of text and image, and his words would be only half the battle. I could easily see a publisher choosing a second-rate illustrator, counting on Obama’s moniker to ensure sales.




I needn’t have worried. Of Thee I Sing is one of the better books I’ve come across recently. Obama wrote it as a letter to his daughters, and each page highlights a different virtue and a hero from U.S. history who exemplifies that virtue. “Have I told you that you are creative?” he asks, and describes painter Georgia O’Keeffe. “She helped us see big beauty in what is small: the hardness of stone and the softness of feather.”

“Have I told you that you are strong?” he asks, and tells of Helen Keller’s fight “through long, silent darkness. Though she could not see or hear, she taught us to look at and listen to each other.” He uses words like “courage” and “respect,” and well-known phrases like “listened to their hearts,” and “liberty and justice for all.” But the stories of the heroes Obama has chosen are powerful enough that they inject life into any cliché language, and remind us why we invented it in the first place. We use the word “brave” because of people like Jackie Robinson; we use the word “inspiring” because of people like Cesar Chavez.

Like a university viewbook, the diversity represented is obvious. There are men and women from different ethnicities, time periods, walks of life and even countries of birth. Though he highlights only 13 people, the breadth of their experience indicates that they represent the numerous other varied victories in the nation’s history. And like a university viewbook, the blatant diversity is part of the point. It doesn’t just say, “This is who we are,” but “This is who we want to be.”

As I said, text is only half of the effort. Obama is responsible for the variety of characters in the book, but the illustrator, Loren Long, is responsible for unifying them into a cohesive whole. He develops a brilliant conceit of representing each of the heroes as children standing next to Obama’s daughters. They all have their backs to the reader.



As the book goes on, the number of children grows until there is a veritable army of people “watching” each of the heroes' stories.



The final spread opens up to all the children, joined by many, many others, finally facing the reader face on. “You children,” the book implies, “are the next legends. You are this country’s future scientists, musicians, and presidents.” All of these people, Obama tells each of his daughters, are “a part of you . . . and you are one of them.”

I can hear some of you saying, “Now hang on, Sarah Jackson. You are usually wary of such blatant patriotism. Are you really going to be swayed into the Happy-Clappy, Ultra-Sappy, Wave Your Flag, Don’t Be a Drag Camp by a few pretty pictures and some nicely worded text?” Fair point. Normally, overt patriotism makes me nervous and if I’m able to suppress a gag, I can’t help letting an eye roll escape. But there is a subtle but important difference in this case. Whereas most patriotic books, songs, and speeches begin with how wonderful the country is, this one begins with individuals -- a huge variety of them. The United States is not great in and of itself, and it never will be. That is the beauty of it all: any greatness this country has comes from people like the ones described in this book.

We are great because we live in this country.
This country is great because we live in it.


These two sentences are so similar. They are made of the same basic components. It would be easily to gloss right over them. And yet the subtle distinctions between the two mean the difference between blindness and truth; between bigotry and compassion.

That I recommend Of Thee I Sing is obvious. But I also recommend thinking about who your heroes are. Which characters, real or fictional, have made you who you are? Who has changed you irreparably? Who do you try to emulate? Next week, I’ll talk about some of mine.

In the meantime, have a good week,
Sarah/Mouse

2 comments:

Krishna Chavda said...

First, I love that you used the word "moniker."
Second, i completely agree with what you said, especially the part about how it's patriotic but not in the usual "this great country" sort of way.

Abbie said...

I love this review, your thoughts and your challenge. I might take you up on it.