 |
TABLE TALK: Palumbo-Liu selects
students for their intensity.
Linda A. Cicero |
before anyone could say
existentialism, the discussion turned to transcendent
notions, social consensus and a priori knowledge à
la Kant.
So we must be deep into fuzzie territory? Not exactly.
It’s a lit course, all right—Comparative
Literature 24Q: Ethnicity and Literature—but many
of the students in the bright white room in Wallenberg
Hall are confirmed techies. “I think kids tend
to take SIS classes that are not in their majors,”
says physics major Carey Myslewski.
That’s one reason David Palumbo-Liu, professor
of comparative literature, enjoys teaching Stanford
Introductory Seminars. “They feel user-friendly
and they’re not intimidating because they’re
not filled with specialists,” he says. “I
get students who say, ‘I’ve never done well
in literature, but I would really like to take this
course.’ It’s not said defensively—it’s
just ‘I want you to know.’ And to me, that’s
positive.”
Palumbo-Liu, who has chaired the doctoral program in
modern thought and literature for six years, looks for
a mix of students from diverse backgrounds for his sophomore
seminar. And from Day One he steers them away from the
notion that enjoyment of literature is phenotypically
determined—that “only if you’re Asian-American
can you understand Maxine Hong Kingston.”
Myslewski had studied only American and European literature
before enrolling in the seminar. “I’ve always
been in the general, mainstream white culture,”
she says. Now she’s reading short stories by Japanese-American
author Toshio Mori, who spent World War II in an internment
camp in Utah, and by Chinese-American novelist Frank
Chin. Myslewski gave a presentation to the class about
The Man Made of Words, by N. Scott Momaday,
MA ’60, PhD ’63, a Native American, a Pulitzer
Prize winner and a former Stanford professor of English.
“David has always stressed that there are not
black-and-white answers in comp lit,” Myslewski
says. “I’d probably say that ‘ethnic
literature’ doesn’t truly exist as a genre,
but that the mainstream culture defines it as anything
that presents a minority point of view. This course
has opened me up to many more options that I now feel
more free to explore.”
As Palumbo-Liu encourages students to think about the
books from multiple points of view, he points to interpretive
realms of gray. “Ethnicity is really about relations
between various groups,” he says. “More
often than not, we find that the texture and meaning
of the narratives cannot easily be divided between ethnic
and nonethnic.” Working without outlines or notes,
he asks quiet, provocative questions: “Why is
it that the meaning of literature doesn’t always
fully hit us until our lives catch up?”
Earth systems major Katy Yan says she had already studied
one book on the syllabus, Sandra Cisneros’s novel
The House on Mango Street. “But reading
it again for this class was like reading it for the
first time,” she says. “Here we’re
able to discuss it, and we think more on our own.”
That’s sweet music for Palumbo-Liu, who gets more
than 40 applications for the 14 seats at his seminar
table. As he reads essays students submit about why
they want to enroll, he’s looking for an indefinable
intensity. “The more energy they put into the
essays, the more energy I know they’ll put into
the class.”
On a recent morning, the discussion turned to the ways
in which oral storytelling traditions tend to change
over time, compared to the relative permanence of the
written word.
“We’re so conditioned to look for themes
and theses in a book,” Jasmine Hanifi said. “But
oral history is more tolerant of tangents.”
The professor was loving it.
“There’s some flexibility in reading a book,”
Hassan Abudu said. “But with storytelling, you’re
in the spell of the person who’s talking.”
Really loving it.
“An author has the freedom to create environments
that don’t exist in real life,” Abudu continued.
“The way imagination works, he can drop different
cultures into a petri dish to create an experiment.”
Palumbo-Liu rested his chin on his fingertips and smiled.
“That’s wonderful,” he said.
“When the chemistry is right between students,”
he remarked later, “you learn things you could
never have imagined.”
|
