DR. SUESS FIASCO OVERBLOWN

There is no artwork that could ever truly exist in isolation. In fact, perhaps it is mostly a work’s deep, inherent connection to the world within which it was born that gives it the ability to compel a response as much as it may.

But never has the world been entirely free from flaw. If a work is to be understood at least in part relative to the artist, with each being inseparable from their environment, then their prejudices must be inevitably confronted, as well.

The eccentricity of the brightly saturated universes of Dr. Seuss (iconic pen name of children’s author Theodore Geisel), unable to be contained yet fully organized in rhyme, will always exist in the psyche of millions among us, his stories consistent favorites within the popular canon of children’s literature.

Any reader who has experienced his short, whimsical narratives can tell you exactly the shape and texture of his hard-cover bound classics, even a pleasure to just hold. And it is exactly when one bears such fondly recollected moments when sharp criticism of those, or even merely related works, can be particularly difficult to address – no matter how rational said criticism may be.

In early March, the Suess family estate announced its intention to cease the printing of several of Geisel’s books, including his pen name debut, “And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street,” specifically citing present racially insensitive content within the stories’ illustrations, particularly recurring caricatures of Asian characters.

Thanks to the aforementioned reverence placed upon Suess’s works, this information simply could not have been publicly received without a substantial amount of “concern,” especially from a certain political demographic constantly panicked over a hypothetical “cancel culture”-led downfall of civilization.

However, cancel culture, as highly contentious the concept may be across the entire ideological spectrum, appears to have had nothing directly to do with the decision made by Dr. Seuss Enterprises’ decision.

That being said, Geisel’s clear personal prejudices – obvious in quite a few of his works – has never exactly been a well-kept secret. His World War II-era political cartoons, infamously full of slant-eyed, buck-toothed Japanese and Japanese-American characters, are fairly commonly encountered in curriculum on the period. Sure, these drawings were no doubt “of their time,” even easier for white Americans to digest thanks to the war in the Pacific, but wildly inappropriate they remain. Inappropriate enough even during that period that the author would eventually express later in life his regret in having perpetuated such dangerous stereotypes.

As troubling as it may be to contemplate, the man who so visibly held such a flawed perspective then had, and continues to have, an immeasurable influence on literary history. And while we shouldn’t let this reality induce hysteria, it shouldn’t be something to attempt to simply shrug off, either.

Nobody is obligated to completely accept an artist as they were, and perhaps no one ever should. Geisel’s depictions surely existed, and it is for the best that we acknowledge and choose to learn from his greatly unfortunate perceptions of entire populations of people. Maybe it would have been best to continue to publish these works with the addition of a heartfelt disclaimer instead, better ensuring that an enlightening experience takes place within new readers.

Regardless, the Suess estate’s choice on the matter has been made. One can only hope it is seen as an expression of compassion for marginalized peoples, rather than a thoughtless book burning.