The Janus Faces of Literacy

Kaestle’s article was a doozy. The length was intimidating, as was the knowledge that it was a very condensed history of reading, writing, and literacy. I’m easily sold by a poignant paraphrase, though, and I found one in a compelling citation by Kaestle from Princeton historian Lawrence Stone: “…if you teach a man to read the Bible, he may also read pornography or seditious literature; put another way, if you teach a woman to read so that she may know her place, she may learn that she deserves yours. These are the Janus faces of literacy.” (Kaestle 34)

I didn’t know who Janus was, but a quick Google search revealed that Janus is a Roman god. Per Wikipedia, “Janus is the god of beginnings…transitions…and endings. He is usually depicted as having two faces, since he looks to the future and to the past.”

Kaestle used Stone’s quote to reinforce his feelings on the varying historical benefits of literacy. For kicks, I imagined Janus as a laborer in urban United States during the nineteenth century:

Janus is an Italian immigrant, just moved to the States in the last year or so. Although he is literate in his native language, he is considered unskilled in America because he cannot speak or write in English. He is discouraged from seeking work outside of the dangerous field of construction, where most of his fellow countrymen erect buildings they will never step foot in. As he walks home in the late afternoon from the site, his faces ponder those around him. He has noticed there are more children in the schoolyard this year than last. Unlike Janus, the boys are scraped up from asphalt arguments. He hopes that the ability to write will keep it so the only marks made in their lives are on paper by the pen instead of on the job by accidents. Farther down the block at the old Nolan mansion, he sees the doctor’s son come home from college. He remembers that some months ago, the privileged boy had left the family’s home to finish his training. Now, he sees him escorting the Wilby girl and her wealthy parents inside–next spring, perhaps, he’ll see them on their way to the church. Meanwhile, his friends Salvatore and Ignazio walk behind him; the two musketeers are missing their third, Alphonse, the only one among them able to read English. Considered a threat and accused of disrupting the peace, he was fired from the job last week. He had asked for a statement of wages owed from the foreman, in writing. Different from the already-advantaged Nolan boy, his skill had brought him no closer to assimilation and prosperity. Always facing toward the past and the future, Janus has yet to see the transitory power of reading and writing in his own life…