Book 19 - Princesses & Pornstars

Here's something a little left of my usual reading centre. Princesses and Pornstars: Sex, Power, Identity by Emily Maguire is a fascinating and frank analysis of the roles and images of women as defined by our modern, supposedly "post-feminist" society. Maguire draws on the messages of everything from raunch culture to the modesty movement, sex education in schools to porn, marriage to same-sex relationships, plastic surgery to dieting and tabloids. She uses personal anecdotes, interviews, media and scholarly studies to point out how women's roles are still very much defined by their relationship to the male, and not necessarily in a positive way.

This book is absolutely packed with insight. It's told in a conversational style and is therefore thoroughly readable without compromising on the issues it is discussing. Here are just a few of the key messages that stood out for me:

- School sex education usually covers the mechanics of getting pregnant and how to avoid it (protection, abstinence). It rarely covers the reality of teen sex - how to comfortably say no (even in the middle of things), how to actually initiate sex (it's not always the boys!), other "forms" of sex and whether they're safe, how to make it pleasurable for both parties (and this doesn't always mean boy-girl either). Alternative sources of education are very male-centric - porn, raunchy music videos etc. I was vaguely alarmed by her interview with three teenage girls who knew and would talk about every way of pleasing a boy but clammed up completely when it came to their own pleasure.

- Girls are constantly told how to stay "safe" and avoid being raped. Maguire asks: why not direct the rape prevention message at boys? As she points out: "Of course not many boys will grow up to become rapists, but that's no reason not to direct the message at them. Not a single woman has caused her own rape, and yet girls are bombarded with advice that can do nothing except cause our would-be rapist to find a different victim" (p79).

- When it comes to career and motherhood, societal pressure and government policy push women into an either-or situation about staying home. Maguire also points out the idea that women "naturally" know how to look after babies and children is a load of guff. With the exception of breastfeeding, a person of any sex can change a nappy or supervise a child. The difference is that an expectant mother tends to read books, seek out advice and support from others and generally learn parenting on-the-job. There is no reason a man couldn't do any of this - if the incentive to existed. And in our current society (with the exception of single dads) it rarely does.

These are just a few of the ideas at play in this book. While I wouldn't ascribe to everything in it blindly, it did help to clarify my concerns with certain trends I've noticed in our current society, and open my eyes to a whole bunch of others. And I wholeheartedly agree that we need continue pushing for the ultimate goal of Maguire's style of feminisim - that each woman be seen as an individual member of society with various choices, beliefs and lifestyles first, rather than simply as a "woman".

Book 16 - Wide Sargasso Sea

Ok, so I didn't read Wide Sargasso Sea this week, and in fact haven't read it since 1999. But the last text of Regarding Jane Eyre, a series of letters by the author Jean Rhys, took me right back to where I started - my year 12 HSC class where we studied both Jane Eyre and Rhys' revisionist novel. It may not have impressed me as deeply as Jane Eyre, but most of it came flooding back after reading these letters. Apologies in advance for errors in plot or theme - as I said, it has been 9 years and unfortunately my copy of the novel is at my parent's house 5 hours from here.

A native of the West Indies and a product of the 20th century, JeanRhys objected strongly to Bronte's portrayal of Rochester's first wife as the mad Creole woman in the attic. It took her years to craft her response: a story of a sensual yet innocent woman named Antoinette Bertha and a suspicious young man who falls violently in love. In the lush and humid tropics lust and Obeah magic clash violently with Victorian prejudice and colonialism. The way I'm describing it makes it sound like a bodice-ripper!

Actually it's quite disturbing - Rochester projects all his inner conflict with his intense passion and sensuality onto Antoinette. His Victorian sensibilities could not handle a sexually responsive wife - as Bronte has Rochester suggest in Jane Eyre, Bertha's "gross sensuality" must have been early symptom of true madness. Combine that with her tainted Creole blood, and Rochester instantly believes the first poisonous story he hears of madness in the family.

What follows is a spiral of cruelty, lust and betrayal where Rochester gradually strips Antoinette of her identity - her friends, her country, her name, until she becomes poor mad Bertha, trapped in an English attic. She can only reassert her identity by burning down Thornton Hall and throwing herself to her death. The question hovers above the text - was Antoinette/Bertha truly prone to madness, or did Rochester drive her to it?

Trust me when I say that you will never look at Rochester in quite the same light again. Don't read this if you object to your heros having feet of clay. It's an intense read ripe with violence and sensuality. One image from the text still stays with me, nine years after reading Wide Sargasso Sea - the image of a moth, drawn to the light and heat of a candle that in a moment of ecstasy will prove to be its doom.

Book 15 - Regarding Jane Eyre

More Jane Eyre folks! I promise I am almost done with the topic.

Regarding Jane Eyre is a collection of writers' responses to Jane Eyre. It's an eclectic little collection, containing excerpts from various biographies on Bronte, some literary criticism, and some fictional writing as well. It's an Australian publication edited by Susan Geason, and several of the texts had a distinctly Australian flavour.

Here's a quick rundown of what's included: an excerpt from the Bronte biographies of Gaskell and Lyndall Gordon; an article on what boarding school was really like at the time (the stories are chilling), a psychologist's analysis of the child abuse and recovery that Jane experienced, questions about where Jane's rage went after Lowood; Amy Witting writing the ongoing story of a very minor character; and Morag Fraser relating the complex relationships of fathers and lovers to her own modern family. I will talk about the other three texts in a little depth as they had more of an impact.

My favourite article was janeyre@window by Carmel Bird (click the title to read the full text online, it's worth it). She has terrific fun identifying all the recurring symbolic motifs within the text - from red, fire and windows to Jane's inherent materialism revealed in an ongoing obsession with describing the furniture of a room. I love recurring motifs and teasing out their possible significance, it's what draws me to poetry as well.

Bird envisioned a cd-rom with a hypertext network of links between all these themes - clicking on "window" in the text would take you to all the other references to window etc. This was probably reasonably groundbreaking, given that it was written in 1996 in the early days of the web revolution. It's certainly a great idea and if it's been done I would like to know about it.

The strangest text was Jean Bedford's Crown me with Roses Pastiche, a somewhat bizarre modern re-imagining of the story where Gateshead is a commune, Lowood is an abusive cult and Thornfield a solitary outback homestead. Let's just say that the ending is nowhere near as positive as in the original text!

The last text, a series of letters by Jean Rhys, actually leads me to her novel Wide Sargasso Sea, which I think deserves an entirely separate review. So sorry, you will have to put up with Jane Eyre for one more post!

My final take on Regarding Jane Eyre: overall I felt there was a bit of an obsession with Jane's childhood and the boarding school, and Rochester suffered significantly under the withering gaze of modern feminism. But nevertheless it is quite a refreshing way to dig deeper into a text without having to resort to the traditional and not always reader-friendly literary criticism.

Book 14 - Villette

Well I just finished Charlotte Bronte's Villette and I was horribly dismayed by the ambiguous ending. You don't need to read Charlotte Bronte's biography to know that she had a difficult life - it comes through in the stoic manner of her characters. Lucy, like Jane, suffers from difficult circumstances and certainly does not lead a smooth life.

Lucy Snowe is an essentially penniless and friendless young woman (sound familiar?) who takes it into her head to travel to France with no secure situation. With determination and a dash of luck she secures a place teaching English in a French boarding school. As her name symbolically uggests, Lucy is a fairly detached and observant woman who depicts the character of those around her with honesty, wit and accuracy. She observes the flirtations and romances of her friends and acquaintances but does not actively seek to participate, nor would she announce her feelings to those she is drawn to.

Despite her self-effacing ways, Lucy catches the attention of the fiery and volatile Monseur Emmanuel, Professor of Literature. He claims to see beyond her modest facade and accuses her of being a passionate and wiley woman. The strange relationship that grows between the two is highly compelling - M. Emmanuel's voluble lectures and flamboyant actions are met by Lucy's innate stubbornness and pointed barbs. It is not a conventional relationship - at first it appears the two truly irritate each other, and even so they appear to be more friends than lovers for most of the book.

I mentioned that Lucy is a stoic and Villette reflects the author's sufferings. Certainly Lucy is more pragmatic than optimistic. When commenting on the courtship of two friends, Dr John and Paulina, she observes that some such as these are born to live fortunate and blessed lives, where she is not. I felt a sort of pity for this character who did not expect much for her life beyond being a single teacher and paying her way. This refrain reoccurs throughout the book and heightened the suspense considerably for the last series of events - there could be no guarentee of the conventional "happy ending".

A bit of a spoiler alert here for those who may want to read the book. I really want to discuss the ending because it affected me signficantly. Eventually the relationship between Lucy and M. Emmanuel deepends into love, but many obstacles are placed in their way - from financial circumstances to family objections and even religious issues (Protestant vs Catholic). Lucy is even led to temporarily believe that he is betrothed to another. Just as it all comes through Emmanuel's friends and family find a way to separate them by sending him off to manage an estate in the West Indies for three years. With all this tension, it seems impossible that it won't resolve in a happy marriage between the two. But alas! in the Epilogue Lucy tells of her three years of waiting which end in a series of wild storms that occur just as M. Emmanuel's ship should be returning. But instead of telling us his fate, she writes:

"Here pause: pause at once. There is enough said. Trouble no quiet, kind heart; leave sunny imagines hope....Let them picutre union and a happy succeeding life."

Aaagghhh! I would rather be told and have Lucy's gloomy predictions on her life confirmed than be left hanging like that. To invest so much in characters and then be deprived of a resolution is incredibly frustrating. How terribly postmodern - 100 years before that particular "ism" existed. But as I said, I really feel that the disappointment that Lucy - and the reader - suffers speaks a great deal of the kind of life that Bronte led. No doubt I will have more on that later if I manage to get through her biography!

Book 13: Wives and Daughters

There was a natural progression in moving from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters. Its author, Elizabeth Gaskell, was a contemporary and close friend of Charlotte Bronte. In fact she wrote Bronte's biography, which I may attempt to read at some point in the future (I borrowed it from the library but you should see how tiny the print is!).

Molly is the half-orphaned daughter of Dr Gibson, raised to be quite a sensible and engaging (if shy) young woman. When invited to be a temporary companion to Mrs Hambly, the ailing wife of the local squire, her gentle and empathetic nature impresses itself on the entire household, including the rough-natured squire and his sons Osborne and Roger. Osborne is considered to be the genius of the family, whereas they view hardworking and good-natured Roger as a bit of a "plodder". However it soon becomes clear that Roger's strength is not the Classic fields of learning but progressive science and maths, and he soon makes a name for himself amongst the scientific community. His kind nature endears him to Molly and she quietly falls in love with him.

Circumstances at home seem to require Molly have a chaperone and the doctor somewhat unwisely plunges into marriage with Hyacinth Kirkpatrick, a widowed schoolmistress with a daughter of her own. Her somewhat vapid and selfish ways soon become a trial to Molly and her father. For Molly the greatest advantage in the marriage is that she gains a new sister, Cynthia, a beautiful, outspoken and strong-willed young lady with the ability to make all men drop at her feet. Molly's love for her new sister is strained when it becomes evident that Roger has fallen for Cynthia. But Cynthia also has a secret engagement with the unscrupulous Mr Preston, one that threatens to ruin not only her reputation but Molly's as well.

I suspect my going from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters was a bit of a disservice to Gaskell - she does not exude the same unorthodox passion and willpower that Bronte does. Essentially this book is just as much about family relationships as romance and society and in fact feels a bit like a wordier, Victorian version of Austen's Mansfield Park. Some of the characterisation is thoroughly enjoyable - Hyacinth is perfectly awful and the Squire Hambly is a wonderfully rough character. All in all it's not a bad read, although somewhat wordy.

Book 12 - Jane Eyre

Now I've been diverted down the classics path. A friend lent me the latest BBC production of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, which reminded me of the deep affection I developed for this book while studying it for my HSC. So down off the bookshelf it came, and I devoured it in a day or two. It made me realise again how great a difference there is between merely reading a book and actually studying it. Despite having last read it nearly 10 years ago, so much was familiar to me - not just plot and character but also themes, significant quotes, the symbolism of locations and visual cues, even structural elements and facts relating to the author's life. There are few books that I know so thoroughly, and of them this is perhaps my favourite. I must also give my heartfelt thanks to my English teacher, who really did inspire in me a love (or at least healthy respect) for all of the texts we studied.

So - back to Jane Eyre. I'll start by saying don't just read my pathetic summary - go and read it!

Jane Eyre is an orphan, perceived to be a wild and passionate child by the relatives who eventually cast her into a cold and heartless charity boarding school. Trust me, this is probably one of the most horrible descriptions of what a boarding school can be. She somehow emerges from it as a strong-willed yet quiet woman who takes a post at Thornfield Hall as governess to Adele, ward of Edward Rochester. Rochester is a cynical and abrupt man embittered by a secret past, yet he finds himself drawn to Jane's integrity and quiet determination. He proposes to her, but unfolding events force Jane to chose between her passionate love and her personal integrity and morals.

Jane narrates the story, and she truly is a unique individual - passionate yet retiring, fiery yet restrained. Bronte has a genius for dialogue - the repartee between Jane and Rochester positively zings with wit and unsaid feeling. I could read those conversations again and again. The BBC miniseries does a fair job of bringing this across, although it seems to miss some of my favourite passages in the book. The plot has a couple of improbable moments but these are more than made up for by the richness of the narrative. Watch for the clever use of symbolism - the interaction of the elements (air, fire, ice, earth), names of locations and people, Jane's fey dreams. As I mentioned earlier, this book has such depth that it can be read again and again while retaining its freshness and providing something new each time. I strongly recommend you read it as one of the more unique love stories ever written.

Book 11 - Child of my Heart

Child of my Heart by Alice McDermott was for me a vaguely disquieting (perhaps the word is sophisiticated?) coming of age novel. Theresa is 15 years old and beautiful - a gift her parents are banking on as they send her out to baby-sit and pet-sit for the wealthy folk who spend their summers on Long Island. Their hope is that she will marry into that wealthier set and bring them up in the world. Theresa may be still a child but she sees the people around her with old eyes, which quickly uncover the tragic secret of her young cousin Daisy, who has come to stay with the family for an idyllic summer holiday.

More disturbing (for me) is her involvement in the bizarre relationships of an 70-year artist's household, whose young wife flounces off to town in a huff, abandoning her two year old daughter to the care of the maid and Theresa. Theresa knowingly watches the artist's affairs and eventually becomes a willing participant. The relationship makes her appear "older", much moer so I suppose than a tumble on the beach with someone her age would have been. However the deliberate way that she becomes with the artist, who could be her grandfather, lays way outside my moral compass and as such I find it hard to empathise with Theresa's actions. I found it much easier to sympathise with her attempts to cover up Daisy's illness and make this summer the high point of her life. A beautifully written but for me uncomfortable read.

Book 10 - Woman on the Other Shore

It's interesting to document my reading like this - I'm starting to see some trends and themes as I move from one book to the next. Some are obvious - like continuing the myth thing - but some seem to appear by themselves. For example, the role of women within society and story seems to be a common theme in my last few reads, including this latest one.

Woman on the Other Shore, written by Mitsuyo Kakuta and translated by Wayne P. Lammers, was winner of the Japanese Naoki Prize in 2005 and is the first of her works to be translated into English. I have a quiet fascination for Japanese culture and literature, from the popular (manga) to the literary (such as Haruki Murakami) which led me to pick up this book.

Sayoko is a quiet woman, very much submissive to the will of her husband and his mother, who worries that her antisocial tendencies are being transferred to her young daughter. She resolves to put her into daycare and go back to work, finding a job under the independent, capricious and compelling Aoi. Aoi's adventurous spirit and charm draws her into activities that she would never have expected of herself. Little does she know that Aoi suffered terrible bullying in high school. When she moved to another town, she became caught up in a similar compelling relationship with charismatic Noriko that had severe consequences but also led her to become the strong-willed yet flawed businesswoman that Sayoko admires. Both stories unfold and inform each other throughout the course of the novel.

The parallel stories and reversed relationships are the most fascinating element of this read. For me there was also a sense of dislocation - of common themes and relationships set in a different context and culture, with different reactions. An interesting read.