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.