Sunday, May 28, 2006
Underbelly
I just finished Michael Perry's book, Population:485, this morning and I've got to say, it's a pretty good read. Perry works hard to capture the historical details and present day feel of New Auburn, but what the book succeeds in doing is illustrating what life is like in one of the thousands of small towns that dot the upper midwest. In fact, it was loaned to me with a explanation that "this is what it's like where I grew up."
One thing that struck me about the book was the difficulty Perry felt fitting in. He's moving back to his hometown after twelve years, now a writer by trade and he feels immensely out of place, like he lacks common ground with his neighbors. It's almost self conscious the way that the book is sprinkled with descriptions of his macho hobbies (hunting, fishing) and every philosphical bit seems to be bracketed by a description of something signifing his "rural authenticity." Sometimes it flows naturally, other times it seems like he's trying too hard.
Still. Perry feels out of place. Remember that he's a heterosexual white man who grew up in this town. He still has family living down the road, knows people from high school, is part of the VFD and likes to hunt and fish. By the standards of anyone outside of the insular world of New Auburn, he's native, both culturally and socially. And he's still not really sure how welcome/integrated into the community he feels. Now imagine you're a Hmong immigrant. Kind of intimidating, huh?
Chai Vang may have been an unhinged guy with a history of anger management problems, but it's not a stretch to see how tensions between "the other" and "from around here" could (will?) lead to similar situations in the future. (And let it not be thought that I'm just talking about Hmong. Anyone who is "the other" (i.e. racial minorities, gays, religious sects outside of the usual Protestant suspects) is viewed with suspicion.)
But don't let the fact that small towns are xenophobic (this just in: puppies are cute!) dissuade you from reading this book. The main thrust of the book is about being an EMT and a firefighter, and that is good stuff, filled with entertaining and moving stories.
One thing that struck me about the book was the difficulty Perry felt fitting in. He's moving back to his hometown after twelve years, now a writer by trade and he feels immensely out of place, like he lacks common ground with his neighbors. It's almost self conscious the way that the book is sprinkled with descriptions of his macho hobbies (hunting, fishing) and every philosphical bit seems to be bracketed by a description of something signifing his "rural authenticity." Sometimes it flows naturally, other times it seems like he's trying too hard.
Still. Perry feels out of place. Remember that he's a heterosexual white man who grew up in this town. He still has family living down the road, knows people from high school, is part of the VFD and likes to hunt and fish. By the standards of anyone outside of the insular world of New Auburn, he's native, both culturally and socially. And he's still not really sure how welcome/integrated into the community he feels. Now imagine you're a Hmong immigrant. Kind of intimidating, huh?
Chai Vang may have been an unhinged guy with a history of anger management problems, but it's not a stretch to see how tensions between "the other" and "from around here" could (will?) lead to similar situations in the future. (And let it not be thought that I'm just talking about Hmong. Anyone who is "the other" (i.e. racial minorities, gays, religious sects outside of the usual Protestant suspects) is viewed with suspicion.)
But don't let the fact that small towns are xenophobic (this just in: puppies are cute!) dissuade you from reading this book. The main thrust of the book is about being an EMT and a firefighter, and that is good stuff, filled with entertaining and moving stories.
// posted by nerodia @ 11:12 AM 
