The Giver and Me: A Biblio-Memoir by Angie Beumer Johnson

During my first year in graduate school, I began attending sessions at NCTE that were focusing on young adult literature. In one session, I heard two women begin to show me what scholarship around this body of literature might look like. These two women were Janet Alsup and Angela Beumer Johnson. I introduced myself after the session. During my three years as a graduate student I followed closely the work they were doing and I looked forward to seeing them every year at NCTE. I guess, whether they liked it or not, they became mentors. They have both been wonderful.

Over the years, Angie and I have had several conversations. When I was getting ready to apply for jobs she offered advice. I appreciated her help then and I continue look forward to future conversations. I am excited that she has finally taken the opportunity to write for the blog.  Thanks Angie.

The Giver and Me: A Biblio-Memoir
Angie Beumer Johnson

What to do in the midst of a pandemic and after an insurrection?
Bask in your favorite book.

I was in the mailroom of my school when it happened: A colleague was the first of many to rave to me about Lois Lowry’s Newbery-medal-winning The Giver. I recall thinking the book sounded “nice,” but it’s a strange thing that sometimes the more people rave about a book, the less we are impressed. Of course once I actually read the book myself, I, too, was at a loss to quickly convey its power in a mail-room moment. Published in 1993, it’s hard to believe that my beloved Giver is nearly three decades old.
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I often switch-up the titles on the syllabus for the YA literature class I teach to preservice English teachers. (With a great deal of choices for books, I’ve added nine new titles to the list of 32 this semester.) But for 20+ years, I’ve always started the course with The Giver, and it’s one of only three titles (along with The Book Thief and Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You) that we read as a whole class. Why The Giver all these years, you ask? In short, it’s timeless, poignant, and it moves English majors who may not be sold on this idea of young adult literature. I’ve written about preservice teachers’ multiple identities (e.g., English major, field experience intern, consumer, family member) and how these identities can impact the perception of the field (Johnson 2011). As one who came to YA literature later in my middle and high school teaching (my preservice teacher education being prior to the acknowledgement of YA lit as crucial), I sadly admit that I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about YA lit. The Giver knocked that chip off with gusto--as it continues to do for my students.

The Giver has certainly earned the moniker of “classic,” standing the test of time and connecting to the human dealings of the day. In 2001, the book “hit different,” as my kids would say. Fall quarter classes had not yet begun on September 11. Two days later, our YA lit class met for the first time, all of us zombie-like trudging through the surreal and sickening events that our country endured. Here’s how that class went down: “We aren’t yet ready to get back to ‘normal,’ so here’s the syllabus. Read The Giver and write a response. See you next week.”

Of course the opening of the novel with a boy fearful of an airplane overhead felt like an imagined déja vu, catapulting us to a much more horrific scenario than Jonas experienced on page one. The grief, the contemplation of freedom vs. risk, and the appreciation of the things we tend to take for granted each day--choices, memories, color, and more--oozed from the students’ responses. Readers contemplated the what-ifs, including the war that had not yet begun. Two students, Jeffrey Kleismit and Antje Williams, joined me in document analysis of the class’s responses, and the impact of The Giver forever tied to our experiences of 9/11 was published in The ALAN Review in 2002. 

A decade or so passes, and I still see students moved by the characters and power of The Giver starting the YA lit class. I haven’t put a finger on how these phenomena occur, but it seems suddenly I start noticing a pattern, once again, in students’ responses to The Giver. This time, I notice how many of these college students are writing about the book as a completely different experience from reading it in their middle school, high school, and sometimes even elementary school years. Once again, two students, Laurel Haynes and Jessie Nastasi, join me in coding the class’s responses, seeking emergent patterns. The power of reading as a process is clear: The Giver is a much more nuanced text for readers with more experience--in life and with texts. The three themes that surfaced: In their younger years many readers didn’t like the book, they didn’t understand the book, or they didn’t remember the book--ironic for a book about memories!

With the Common Core State Standards expressing the need for complex text (and with some writing off YA lit as not fitting the bill) the students’ responses to The Giver spoke to the power of a young adult novel on adults--on its lasting impact, and on the complexity that even future English teachers did not fully comprehend in their younger years. When adapting The Giver for the screen, the choice was made to age Jonas from twelve to sixteen. In a personal communication, Lowry mentioned that she did not have a particular age of reader in mind when writing the book; however, based on teachers’ experiences, she thought eighth grade and up would be a good suggestion (Johnson, Haynes, and Nastasi, 2013). We agreed, and still advocate for re-reading at older ages. The book, for many, exists on a whole new level of complexity when read even as an adult. (See also Slate’s Eliza Berman’s analysis of her own reading of The Giver as an adult.)

A few years later, I experienced one of my fondest stretches in this relationship with The Giver. I spent lovely autumn days at an alternative school in a large district doing read-alouds with David French’s high school students (many of whom were in transition from detention facilities, or who were not thriving in their traditional schools). We relished seeing The Giver from the fresh eyes of the students as we led them through the textual and human complexities of the book. The read-aloud was crucial for guiding comprehension as well as thinking through ethical and moral implications of the book. I recall a particularly powerful conversation about Sameness and race, as the text references a past when diversity of skin color existed. In these days of white nationalist hatred and bigotry on this rise, The Giver again brings attention to whose lives are valued. (See Johnson and Urquhart.)

So here I am, with another decade on the horizon in this long-term relationship with The Giver, a book that has a hold on my mind and my heart. As I write, another class of preservice teachers is digging into The Giver this weekend during a pandemic that has currently claimed 400,000 U.S. lives (which The New York Times suggests is likely too low a number due to delayed counts). We read as we mourn the violence inflicted upon our elected officials at the Capitol Building a little over a week ago. Lowry’s book, as during my reading enveloped by the September 11th attacks, now sets my mind thinking about my—and our country’s, our society’s--values. Once again with Jonas, I become concerned about the authoritarian nature of those in power, about the steps taken to keep us safe, or those steps not taken to keep us safe. I wait for what those holders of the future, the future teachers, will teach me after reading The Giver in this particular moment in time. I can’t help but wonder: if the fatigue of all the losses from the pandemic, if the vicious words spat across digital spaces, if the politically-based divisions, if the seemingly endless racial injustice and needless violence and deaths would tempt us to want to simply run away--not to care, as Jonas proposes to The Giver.

It’s tempting, but then I remember Jonas’s thought: “Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything” (Lowry, 1993, p. 157).
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Thank you, Jonas. Thank you, Lois. Here’s to several more decades of this relationship.

Angie Beumer Johnson, Professor of English Language and Literatures at Wright State University, enjoys reading, writing, and researching alongside her students who are secondary preservice English teachers. She also enjoys working with inservice teachers through her professional development/personal enrichment group, WORDBridge Now

photo credit: Madeleine Johnson

References:
Johnson, A. B., Kleismit, J. W., & Williams, A. J.  (2002).  Grief, thought, and appreciation:  Re-examining our beliefs amid terrorism through The Giver.  The ALAN Review 29(3), 15-19. 
            
Johnson, A. B. (2011).  Multiple selves and multiple sites of influence: Perceptions of young adult literature in the classroom.  TIP:  Theory into Practice, 50, 215-222. 

Johnson, K., & Urquhart, J. (2020, September 4). White nationalism upsurge in U.S. echoes historical pattern, say scholars. Reuters. Retrieved January 14, 2021 from https://www.reuters.com/article/us-global-race-usa-extremism-analysis/white-nationalism-upsurge-in-u-s-echoes-historical-pattern-say-scholars-idUSKBN25V2QH
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Katz, J., Lu, D., & Sanger-Katz, M. (2021, January 14). 400,000 more U.S. deaths than normal since COVID-19 struck. Retrieved January 14, 2021 from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/01/14/us/covid-19-death-toll.html

Until next week.