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booknookTitle: Censored: A Literary History of Subversion and Control
Authors: Matthew Fellion and Katherine Inglis
Genre: non-fiction
As a consequence of realising that hey, interlibrary loans exist and are actually pretty cheap, I've been reading a book called Censored: A Literary History of Subversion and Control by Matthew Fellion and Katherine Inglis.
The book is a survey of the history of censorship of literature mainly in the UK and the US, presented through case studies of individual censored works, though many of the chapters discuss censorship of similar books more broadly. The oldest case is the censorship of the early English translations of the Bible; the newest the censorship of Chicanx literature in Arizona in the 2010s.
The book takes a broad view of censorship. It doesn't just deal with censorship by the state, but also other forms of censorship, such as self-censorship and the chilling effect that censorship exerts on the literary landscape as a whole.
I'm not going to talk about it in any great detail. It's really well-written -- very accessible to a lay reader, without feeling like it's been dumbed-down -- so go read it if the topic interests you.
However, when I was reading it, I kept coming back two thing: the days of censorship of literature have never really gone away, and the reasons for censorship have never changed, either.
I haven't ever really thought much about censorship of literature, especially not in the context of my own life. It's something that happens in dictatorships such as China or Russia, or else in deeply conservative and religious countries such as the United States. Places where politics are bonkers.
Back in school, we learned about how the writer Hannu Salama was convicted of blasphemy in the 60s, because in one of his novels a characters gave a joke sermon while drunk. Even in the conservative environment of my hometown in the 90s and early 00s, the trial and conviction was still presented as something backwards.
In other words, censorship was something that happened Elsewhen and Elsewhere.
And frankly, I was probably right about that. As far as I can find out with superficial googling, the last cases of censorship of literature in Finland happened in the 60s, though I would take that with at least a grain of salt. State censorship might be all but nonexistent, but what about other forms of censorship? I will withold judgement in the face of my lack of knowledge. Nonetheless, the overt form of censorship that is state censorship is alive and well in some countries, as Censored demonstrates.
Censored also shows how little the reasons for censorship have changed. Obscenity, blasphemy, questioning authority, harming vulnerable people -- the details of what is seen as objectionable might change, but the broad reasons stay the same.
And it's the harming of vulnerable people that seems the most insidious to me, perhaps because it's the hardest to defend against these days. We're far more permissible when it comes to, say, obscenity or questioning authority, but protecting vulnerable people from harmful literature? The rise of purity culture in fannish spaces is just one example that shows how alive and well that one is.
And yet, buried in that is an assumption of superiority, because it is never us who are truly in danger. It's always someone else. The book includes an account of a trial against D.H. Lawrences's Lady Chatterley's Lover in the UK in 1960. During it Gerald Gardiner, who was acting for the defence, said this:
I have never seen anyone say that reading a book would twist their morals. It might hurt them or distress them, but no one ever suggests that it twists them. Not that I've seen. Books can only ever distort the morals and actions of someone else, who must be protected from that distortion. It seems to me that the impulse to protect other, weaker people from the harmful effects of literature hasn't gone anywhere.
In the UK, the Children and Young Persons (Harmful Publications) Act 1955 is still in the books. In the US, books are banned often enough, especially in schools, that they have an actual Banned Books Week there. Some countries seem more receptive to the arguments for banning books. My own country seems to have escaped at least some of that tendency. Still, I think it's worth it to remind us as well: the days of book banning never went away.
Authors: Matthew Fellion and Katherine Inglis
Genre: non-fiction
As a consequence of realising that hey, interlibrary loans exist and are actually pretty cheap, I've been reading a book called Censored: A Literary History of Subversion and Control by Matthew Fellion and Katherine Inglis.
The book is a survey of the history of censorship of literature mainly in the UK and the US, presented through case studies of individual censored works, though many of the chapters discuss censorship of similar books more broadly. The oldest case is the censorship of the early English translations of the Bible; the newest the censorship of Chicanx literature in Arizona in the 2010s.
The book takes a broad view of censorship. It doesn't just deal with censorship by the state, but also other forms of censorship, such as self-censorship and the chilling effect that censorship exerts on the literary landscape as a whole.
I'm not going to talk about it in any great detail. It's really well-written -- very accessible to a lay reader, without feeling like it's been dumbed-down -- so go read it if the topic interests you.
However, when I was reading it, I kept coming back two thing: the days of censorship of literature have never really gone away, and the reasons for censorship have never changed, either.
I haven't ever really thought much about censorship of literature, especially not in the context of my own life. It's something that happens in dictatorships such as China or Russia, or else in deeply conservative and religious countries such as the United States. Places where politics are bonkers.
Back in school, we learned about how the writer Hannu Salama was convicted of blasphemy in the 60s, because in one of his novels a characters gave a joke sermon while drunk. Even in the conservative environment of my hometown in the 90s and early 00s, the trial and conviction was still presented as something backwards.
In other words, censorship was something that happened Elsewhen and Elsewhere.
And frankly, I was probably right about that. As far as I can find out with superficial googling, the last cases of censorship of literature in Finland happened in the 60s, though I would take that with at least a grain of salt. State censorship might be all but nonexistent, but what about other forms of censorship? I will withold judgement in the face of my lack of knowledge. Nonetheless, the overt form of censorship that is state censorship is alive and well in some countries, as Censored demonstrates.
Censored also shows how little the reasons for censorship have changed. Obscenity, blasphemy, questioning authority, harming vulnerable people -- the details of what is seen as objectionable might change, but the broad reasons stay the same.
And it's the harming of vulnerable people that seems the most insidious to me, perhaps because it's the hardest to defend against these days. We're far more permissible when it comes to, say, obscenity or questioning authority, but protecting vulnerable people from harmful literature? The rise of purity culture in fannish spaces is just one example that shows how alive and well that one is.
And yet, buried in that is an assumption of superiority, because it is never us who are truly in danger. It's always someone else. The book includes an account of a trial against D.H. Lawrences's Lady Chatterley's Lover in the UK in 1960. During it Gerald Gardiner, who was acting for the defence, said this:
In a case like this one is perhaps permitted to reflect that nobody suggests that the Director of Public Prosecutions becomes depraved or corrupted; counsel read the book, they do not become depraved or corrupted; witnesses read the book, they do not become depraved or corrupted; nobody suggests the judge or the jury become depraved or corrupted. It is always somebody else; it is never ourselves.
I have never seen anyone say that reading a book would twist their morals. It might hurt them or distress them, but no one ever suggests that it twists them. Not that I've seen. Books can only ever distort the morals and actions of someone else, who must be protected from that distortion. It seems to me that the impulse to protect other, weaker people from the harmful effects of literature hasn't gone anywhere.
In the UK, the Children and Young Persons (Harmful Publications) Act 1955 is still in the books. In the US, books are banned often enough, especially in schools, that they have an actual Banned Books Week there. Some countries seem more receptive to the arguments for banning books. My own country seems to have escaped at least some of that tendency. Still, I think it's worth it to remind us as well: the days of book banning never went away.