Friday, November 14, 2014

Gang Life

One of the most hyperbolic and captivating depictions Beatty makes in The White Boy Shuffle is of gang life in Hillside. As soon as Gunnar moves to his neighborhood, the first impression he gets of the place has to do with gang activity. The LAPD check if he is affiliated with any group right off the bat, so it is obviously part of the core that makes Hillside what it is. A large part of the reason why gang life is so interesting in the novel is simply because of the hilarity Beatty adds in portraying it. Obscure names are used, the gang Gunnar gets involved in is the “Gun Totin’ Hooligans” for example, not what you would normally expect a gang to be called. And the two thugs that introduce themselves while strolling into class during Gunnar’s first day of school stick to the titles of “Hope-to-Die Ranford a.k.a. Pythagoras” and “Velma the Ludicrous Mistress Triple Bitch of Mischief Vinson.” The actions of the gangs, at least the Gun Totin’ Hooligans (which is Beatty’s main focus), are pretty comical as well. The first look that Gunnar gets of the Gun Totin’ Hooligans is from his tent hide out in the department store, and it is quite a scene. As the rest of the gang members casually loot the store, one guy is taking practice shots with the bow and arrow using the mannequins for targets – not the usual gang activity (or gear). Furthermore, we see that the Gun Totin' Hooligans can’t really perform any violent tasks, partly because of their outdated weaponry tied down by questionable tradition, and they rely entirely on Psycho Loco. They don’t really function as a gang if you think about it, and they even have a poet in residence: Gunnar. So really, based on the picture Beatty gives us, it is tough to really take the gangs seriously. Through exaggeration of names, actions, associations, he is drawing out a definite element of silliness.

All that being said, I don’t think that Beatty is writing out a pointless silliness – there are definitely layers of messages that come along with his portrayal. Beatty is stripping away the veil of toughness that gang members raise for themselves and that the general public assumes of gang members, and he is bringing their identities to the most basic level. He is taking all of the image away, and boiling the matter down to its definitive state. By critiquing gangs under such an exposing light, Beatty shows that the killings and violent situations are all silly, and that there is no substance to them (not unimportant, just pointless and irrational). A prime scene in the novel that brings this idea out is the time when Pumpkin dies. His death comes out of the blue, a surprise to everyone, and there is really no good reason as to why he passes. While Psycho Loco and Pumpkin are robbing a Korean owned store, Psycho Loco shoots a warning shot, and a chain of events somehow suffocate Pumpkin. Basically, the death is an accident. Killed by his own partner in crime, Pumpkin’s death is so random and not glorious that it fully magnifies Beatty’s theme of irrationality in gang violence. People really die – a real blow to any relations of the victim – and it’s all from pointless fights made by gangs, a tragic reality.

Even though there is no apparent good in the gang life that Beatty portrays, it would be a mistake to miss out on the other half of gang significance he alludes to. The gang is a community for people who need a community. In the Gun Totin’ Hooligans for instance, Psycho Loco leads the daily charge, but there are a bunch of other faces in the mix tagging along for the ride. Really they do nothing – if Psycho Loco were removed they would just be a group of nearly randomly assembled teens – but the very fact that they are together is what is important. All the young guys are in it just for the sake bonding and finding a second home where they can connect with peers. It is integral to their lives in Hillside, and Gunnar is a good case in showing how connected and important the gangs are. Coming from Santa Monica, he is pretty soft to start off with, but he eventually is fit into the Gun Totin’ Hooligans, even if he plays a unique role, and gang life in general – anybody and everybody finds a place in the system. Early on in the novel, a passage discussed how Gunnar hated the Cub Scout that he was a part of, but the interaction he has with his gang sharply contrasts that, and this outlines the difference between superficial and pure bonding. Due to the silly way that Beatty illustrates gang activity throughout the novel, the question of whether or not there is a “purpose” to gangs is raised, and I think that the answer to that would be that while there is no end purpose (in violence) there is still a comfort and brotherly connection for the members that is worth noting and valuing.

To elaborate on the vital inner connection of gangs Beatty seems to point out, I think the scene in which the Gun Totin’ Hooligans decide to take on the Ghost Town gangsters in unparalleled fashion is especially relevant. This scene is one of the most memorable and fresh in my mind, because it captures the spirit of bonding so well. In an effort to take out their enemies, the gang cross dresses and then heads over to the cluster of bungalows that the Ghost Town gangsters hang around. After the launch of arrows and balloons has been made, the Gun Totin’ Hooligans wrap up their raid and head out. On the car ride back to their own neighborhood, they have a real celebration by blasting opera music really loud. Gunnar “noticed none of the boys bothered to remove their wigs or makeup” and decided to hit “the high notes with the rest of the fellows.” This moment is so surreal in that it breaks every image someone might have of gang life -- the music, apparel, and activity. In their celebration, they don’t care what they look like and really just feel the joy of life in the company of each other. Through Gunnar’s eyes we can see that he really feels at home and is able to fully embrace the moment too.
Beatty’s cartoonish way of presenting gang life is a successful commentary on the aimless reckless nature of violence and importance of brotherhood in gang life. 

Free Puppet

A really cool part of Gunnar’s development in my opinion is the way he has turned into someone that is insane. Not crazy insane, but mature and in-his-own-world insane. There is a lot of evidence in his letter to Yoshiko fairly late in the novel that shows how he is really just doing his own thing, not giving a care as to what people think of him or what he should be doing. First off, he is writing the entire letter during half-time, when he is probably supposed to be invested in the game against Cornell. Coach Palomino is foaming over how bad the team is playing, yet Gunnar is laid back through it all, not showing any interest in the game. When coach slaps a player named Isaac Gottlieb for missing a layup during warmups, Gunnar just thinks/writes, “oh shit.” There is no sense of exclamation, no emotion, he is just an indifferent observer. At the same time, Gunnar expresses that he fully capable of crossing the line if he chooses, and he seems to have fun with it. When the national anthem plays before the game he refuses to stand, and when reporters approach him because of this he eventually gets to a point where he equates America with Satan. He knows that he is being completely random, and he feels perfectly comfortable acting in that way.

While Gunnar exhibits a large amount of freedom in his thoughts, words, and actions, Scoby is a little different as the novel progresses. When we first meet him in the novel, he is the epitome of coolness. Lost in his own world of music and always doing his own thing, Nick Scoby is someone to admire. However, he is deeply negatively influenced by the pressures of public expectation. At first, he was able to play basketball or explore in his own music genres on his own or with community friends, but the transition to a public display of his perfection is uncomfortable to him. In the letter, Gunnar requests for Yoshiko to find a counselor for Scoby because he is going “insane.” This is a different kind of insane than the one I label Gunnar with, because it has darker connotation. Scoby is cracking under pressure, and Gunnar analyzes that the reason for this is that Scoby is continuously trying to find a “pair of scissors” to cut the “strings.” This is an allusion to the puppeteer strings illustrated in Invisible Man, where strings represent the everlasting hold white people have on minorities, namely black people. So the problem is that Nick has turned into someone that is trying too hard, and its damaging him. He is trying to free himself from the hold of the strings and then be his own person. However, to be your own person, Beatty is saying you just have to get over the fact that there are strings in the first place, unfortunately Scoby can't face this reality.

Gunnar is able to thrive because he knows how to deal with the strings. While Scoby struggles to snip them away, Gunnar just flat out accepts them. He admits to being attached, and he can only see the string if his eyes fight the fog of his own spirit of freedom. Once Gunnar is in the mature state of accepting reality, he can then take a step back and do whatever he wants. That is why he is able to  do stuff like calmy contemplate whether or not a free-throw is worth it at the height of an important game, get ink all over the basketball (and therefore other people’s uniforms!) during the Cornell game, etc. Gunnar feels his freedom because he understands that the strings are not cut, and he dances. But he doesn’t dance with the pupetteer, he creates his own rhythm and just lets himself go. He is purely insane. 

Creative Writing 104

The whole experience Gunnar has with Boston University is really quite interesting. Specifically, the way Beatty handles Gunnar's interactions with his peers in the Creative Writing 104 course is particularly crucial. Right away, we see that the people in his class are sort of out of touch -- each in their own way, the other students are pretty extreme and odd. The first person to introduce themselves to the class is Peyote Chandler, who is absolutely obsessed with Sylvia Path and tried to kill herself by sticking her head in the oven. Next is chubby Chadwick Osterdorf III, who finds true poetry solely in Rimbaud. And then there is Negritude, who tries to sincerely devote herself to honoring African culture but severely fails. I see an interesting dynamic of how Beatty clumps them all together and juxtaposes them against Gunnar. It all starts with the introductions that are made. Within each personal presentation, Gunnar, the “boisterous black kid,” constantly interrupts. He is the sole nuisance to the class, and his voice is heard loud and clear by everyone. In combination with the absurdity of the other students, it seems like they are a jumbled mess of white people while Gunnar stands apart as the individual black student. To add on to that, when he finally reveals who he is, they all jump on him verbally due to his success in poetry. This change of pace creates a very two-sided connection, with all the other students lending their attention and Gunnar receiving it. Throughout the class period he is clearly in control, and the others are on a different level than him, they are worthy of being warded off.

Because all the other students and the professor are white and they have an exaggerated amount of praise for Gunnar, the whole concept of minstrelsy comes up here in my opinion. His poetry becomes something of their superficial pleasures, and more value is put into the fact that he is a black poet who has found success than the content of his work. This idea was previously made pretty clear in Gunnar’s other art of life: basketball. During the pickup games in the park and within the moment that he amazingly discovers that he can dunk with impressive ease, there is a real organic quality to basketball. It is played for simple enjoyment and fun, and no one has any hesitation when stepping onto the court. After landing a spot on the school team, a whole new world confronts Gunnar (and Scoby). He doesn’t feel the same rhythm that he did in the park, and he doesn’t feel the energy of the game itself to the same extent. With the traits of his BU writing class in place, Gunnar seems to also go through the same thing for poetry. Like basketball, there is an organic start. He scrawls poetry on walls and people from his neighborhood stop to read and admire it. There is a certain amount of street cred that he gains, and it is all part of a natural balance of respect. As a poet for the Gun Totin’ Hooligans, Gunnar has a chill role and reputation, but once he gets to Boston, it’s a whole new story. Once again, white crowds smother him with unwanted unnatural attention. With the addition of a book, his poetry is taken from off the walls of LA and put into a very “official” form. Gunnar’s poetry is at one point in the conversation and not just for the presentation, but it takes on an unfortunate transformation for him personally.

The classroom scene starts to get really weird once Gunnar’s peers and professor start chasing him around, there is no way that this sort of thing would happen in reality. Beatty does this intentionally, however, to push the idea of the white person obsessed over a performer. The way Gunnar’s professor characterizes him when he first realizes that he is the great black poet sets up this vibe. Dr. Edelstein excitedly shoots out of his seat and then awkwardly recites one of Gunnar’s poems on the spot, and he is in a frenzy all because “his performer” is in the room with him. Since there is so much insanity in how the white people look past Gunnar as a human, and just seem him as a guy who produces poetry for them, he reacts in an way of desperation -- standing in the school yard, he rips off all his clothes. I interpret this as an opposite reaction to the muddled crazy action of the white people, and he does this by trying to let out his feelings and emotion. The very depiction of the clothes supports this, as they go up in a whirlwind into the air and then fall to the ground. With the same structure, personal expression bursts from Gunnar, and then dies down just as quick. Immediately following this explosion, the white students scurry around trying to collect what they can, trying to obtain his clothes like little prizes. It is pretty dehumanizing that Gunnar just made this shocking move and then all they do is look right past him and see what part of him they can keep for themselves – his clothes.


The statement that Dr. Edelstein makes when trying to defend Gunnar and his nakedness from the cops is what sums all of this up quite nicely. Upon confrontation, Gunnar is backed by his professor who exclaims, “It’s okay, he’s a poet. Matter of fact, the best black…the best poet writing today.” The narrator then adds that he “…had permission to act crazy.” At this point it is quite obvious that on the inside the white people label Gunnar as black, and that they also want him to just perform for them. Beatty has created a wide gap between Gunnar and the other people in the BU writing section which leads to yet another scene that demonstrates the minstrel dynamic.