Off My Chest

I read in the paper the other day that Cheyenne, Wyoming, has outlawed the use of hand-held cell phones while driving. Of course, there's an uproar. "We have the right to bear a cell phone," one angry citizen protested. "If I'm driving down the road, minding my own business and talking on my cell phone, leave me alone," said another. There were lots of versions of "Nobody has the right to tell me what to do." One man claimed he needed to use his cell phone to keep track of his five children. Maybe he should have thought of that before . . . Never mind.

I'm not against cell phone use. I've got one myself, and I use it regularly. But I can totally understand why the idea of passing a law like this might be attractive to some people. I don't know how many times I've sat behind a vehicle at an intersection waiting, waiting, waiting for the driver to notice that the light's turned green while he or she has been talking away on a cell phone. The other day, my husband was driving down Beebe-Capps when a woman in a big SUV in the lane next to him (going the same direction) came half-way over into his lane, forcing him onto the shoulder. She was talking on her cell phone and never even noticed. Several years ago, my daughter was rear-ended while stopped at a red light by a girl who was speeding and, you guessed it, also talking on her cell phone.

Now I'm on a roll. I also get tired of overhearing personal conversations in public places--especially in restrooms where the conversation echoes . . . echoes . . . echoes . . . I really don't want to hear about how you can't decide if you should get your tubes tied or not. Or how drunk you got last weekend. Or what a bum your ex is. I don't want to stand behind you in the checkout line when you can't even place your items onto the conveyor belt because your phone conversation is taking all your attention. I find it extremely frustrating to wait behind you at the counter when you don't even realize it's your turn to place your lunch order because you can't hang up your phone for five minutes. One restaurant in Oxford had a sign at the counter: "If you're on your phone, you're not in line." Thank you, management. We've even gone out to dinner at nice restaurants and been unable to carry on a conversation because we couldn't hear over the guy yelling into his phone at the next table. Please, people, pay attention! And show some courtesy!

Whew. I feel better now.

The Trouble with Twilight--Part V: Weak Women

Feminist critic Joanna Russ argues that, in a patriarchal culture, everything is seen from the male point of view. Women have a place within a patriarchal culture, but it is a minor place; there is a women’s culture, but it is a sub-culture, and it does not represent all that is possible of human experience. This is why, she continues, almost all of western civilization’s masterplots feature heroes rather than heroines. Women appear in these stories, but usually in supporting roles—loving wife, old crone, dear sister, temptress, loose woman, evil witch, etc.—all stereotypes. Yet there is one masterplot in which women are allowed the role of heroine—The Love Story.

Why? Because, even though she’s the “star” of the story, she’s still in a weak position. She is the one lacking power, the one who must be rescued or saved or pursued. A hero uses his strength, talent, or wit to overcome obstacles and prove his worth (or lack of it)—in a myriad of ways, thus the many plots available for heroes. A heroine just needs to find a man. That’s why she only needs one plot, right?

The first female novelists struggled for acceptance as authors, and unlike male novelists such as Fielding, Sterne, and Smollett who could pen suggestive scenes and still be respected, women writers were often deemed immoral for even daring to put their names on their tamest literary creations. They were also pretty much limited to producing novels of manners in which young women learned their “proper” roles in society.

But even with these restrictions, thinking, intelligent women found ways to fight back, ways that were often subversive. They might have been limited to the love story plot, but they could show their heroines’ pain. They highlighted society’s double standards. They showed the desperation many females felt in the face of economic insecurity. They painted pictures of feminine despair at having talents society allowed them no place to exercise. They depicted women of dignity, who refused to prostitute themselves for financial security and held out for husbands who respected them and whom they could respect. And, finally, after hundreds of years, things changed. Women authors gained greater freedom. They could depict strong women with dignity and choices and varying life paths.

And along comes Stephenie Meyer, who seems to try, in the Twilight novels at least, to undo all the progress of the last two hundred years. This may be a vampire story, but it’s the Love Story plot. Bella simply has to have a man. She cannot exist without one. Edward (although he repeatedly derides her and talks to her as if she’s a child) completes her and is necessary for her very survival. And when he leaves, what happens? She latches on to Jacob (who basically treats her the same way Edward does, but not quite as badly). Like I said, she’s gotta have a man. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against love and marriage—but I’m for relationships built on both self- and mutual respect.

And what’s the deal with “genetic dead ends”? Traditionally, women’s worth in a patriarchal society is based on their childbearing capacity. Therefore youth is prized, and women decrease in value as they age because they lose this ability (see my ageism post). Young women who did not or could not bear children were deemed “surplus” women—essentially a burden on society. This is another view of women that female authors have fought against, and what do we find in the Twilight saga? Rosalie and Leah, two young women who feel worthless because they are unable to bear children— they are, using Leah’s term, “genetic dead ends”—and Bella, who’s willing to sacrifice her own life for her unborn child, against the wishes of Edward, Jacob, and Carlisle—all the men who care about her (and should care about the child). Again, I’m not discounting the value of children—or of self-sacrifice. I’m a mother, and my children are very important to me. I’m also willing to sacrifice for them, and so is my husband. And so are most mothers and fathers I know. What I’m saying here is that this is a very sexist presentation of parenting. A woman’s worth is not based on whether or not she can bear children, just as a man’s worth is not based on whether or not he can or has fathered children. And women are not the only ones willing to sacrifice for the welfare of their children.

Meyer seems to be trying to depict Bella as a strong heroine, but she goes about it in all the wrong ways. Bella rejects parental authority yet “parents” her own parents. She doesn’t care about clothes or what kind of car she drives. She doesn’t care about going to the prom. Bella is “above” all the typical teenage-girl things, and I guess Meyer thinks that this makes her seem mature and independent. Another weird thing that I guess is supposed to make Bella a feminist is that she’s ready for sex and for Edward to “transform” her, but she’s not ready to marry him at eighteen. It’s just too low-class-white trash—people will talk about her! But it’s hard to think of Bella as strong when she has no individual sense of self-esteem/identity and is constantly putting herself in positions that she knows will force Edward or Jacob to rescue her.

Many of the other females in these novels fit these same patterns. Renee is needy and flighty and must be shielded and taken care of. Leah is the stereotypically bitter scorned woman and is only grudgingly accepted in the pack. The celebrated third wife is “strong” only because she kills herself to save her men. The “imprinted” women have no choice but to belong to the male wolves that imprint on them for life—a relationship much like a knight and his fair lady. All in all, Meyer’s fictional world is pretty degrading for women.

So why are so many girls and women identifying with these books?

To be continued . . .

The Trouble with Twilight--Part II: Body Image

Thanks a lot, Stephenie Meyer. Not only do teenage girls feel they have to struggle for a look that only about 5% or less of the population can actually achieve, now the ideal is set by immortals.

Over and over Meyer describes the Cullens family as runway models, perfect, beautiful, dazzling, sculpted. And poor Bella? Why she's simply an average human who doesn't deserve to be with such perfection. How could gorgeous, hunky Edward ever love someone so beneath him?

I guess Dove has wasted its money on their Real Beauty campaign. And Meyer didn't even give the guys a break on this one. How can any regular boy like Mike Newton stand a chance against Edward's "god-like" beauty or Jacob's brawny, oversized masculinity?

To be continued . . .

The Shack

If a book causes a big hoopla, I try to read it. After all, it’s my job (kinda). And I want my students to see that I’m not hung in the 18th century, that I try to keep current.

So last year, when I heard so many people talking about The Shack, how wonderful it was, how they were doing a Bible study based on it, how you’d better have a pencil in hand as you read, and so on and so forth, I thought it’d be a good read for me. I figured I’d have students who’d read it and might want to discuss it, and since I always try to keep one “spiritual” book going, this would combine my love of fiction with my daily dose of devotional reading.

Boy, was I disappointed. Besides some shaky theology, The Shack really wasn’t all that well-written, and frankly, I often found it corny. But I wasn’t nearly as disappointed as this guy. Check out his review HERE.

You won’t be sorry.

Austen Rx for Obama

That should be Emma he's carrying.

New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd tells Obama he should have read his Jane Austen. You can read her column HERE.

Who says Austen's no longer relevant?

Stephen vs. Stephenie

Prolific horror writer Steven King says Twilight series author Stephenie Meyer “can’t write worth a darn . . . She’s not very good.”

Why, then, are her books so popular? King “speculated that Twilighters simply aren't yet ready for a depiction of real, adult romance.”

You can read more HERE.

Disagreeing with Dr. Johnson

I admire Samuel Johnson. I really do. A man who can compile a Dictionary of the English Language in seven years with exacting precision is hardly to be argued with. But I am today.

Dr. Johnson wrote:

Contemplative piety, or the intercourse between God and the human soul, cannot be poetical. Man admitted to implore the mercy of his Creator, and plead the merits of his Redeemer, is already in a higher state than poetry can confer.

The essence of poetry is invention; such invention as, by producing something unexpected, surprises and delights. The topicks of devotion are few, and being few are universally known; but few as they are, they can be made no more; they can receive no grace from novelty of sentiment, and very little from novelty of expression. Of sentiments purely religious, it will be found that the most simple expression is the most sublime. Poetry loses its lustre and its power, because it is applied to the decoration of something more excellent than itself. All that verse can do is to help the memory, and delight the ear, and for these purposes it may be very useful; but it supplies nothing to the mind. The ideas of Christian Theology are too simple for fiction, and too majestick for ornament; to recommend them by tropes and figures, is to magnify by a concave mirror the sidereal hemisphere.

I don’t claim to have the analytical powers of Dr. Johnson, but I do have a few things to say in rebuttal: John Donne. George Herbert. Gerard Manley Hopkins. Christina Rosetti.

Have anything to add to the argument?

Trusting My Instincts

I enjoy movies. I like to watch them, and I like to think about them. I even like to have discussions about them. But I’ve never written a movie review.

Over the years I’ve written several book reviews, and I feel pretty comfortable doing so. After all, I’ve studied literature. I know what I like and what I don’t. I have opinions about what’s working and what’s not. I can speak the language. And if you disagree with me, that’s okay. I can handle it.

But film is different. I’ve always wanted to take a Film as Lit class, but every time one’s been offered during my time as a student, from undergrad to grad, it was always during the time of another class that I absolutely had to have. So, even though I do have opinions about the movies I watch, I’m reluctant to share my judgments. I don’t know film history, I haven’t studied the criticism, I don’t know the specialized vocabulary, and that makes me hesitant. I feel unqualified.

That hasn’t stopped me, though, from watching films, privately forming opinions, and reading film reviews. But I have the same procedure with film reviews that I do with book reviews—I don’t read them until afterwards. I don’t want to be told what to think; I want to experience the movie for myself, make my own discoveries, and form my own opinions.

Right after Thanksgiving I went to see The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. (I promise, no spoilers.) I think it’s a really good movie, but there were a couple of things that bothered me about it, and something about the movie overall that I kept thinking about but couldn’t quite get to where the unease was leading. I came home and looked up one of my favorite movie critic’s review, and lo and behold, he brought up each of the negative things I’d noticed and answered the question I hadn’t even realized I’d been grappling with.

Our family went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on Christmas night, and on the way home I mentioned that something about it reminded me of Forrest Gump. Later I read a review and discovered that both films were written by the same screenwriter. Ah-ha!

The same sort of thing has happened with several movies I’ve watched lately.

Now, I’m not saying that the film critics and I always agree or that I notice everything they do. Far from it—I have a long way to go. I still want to learn more about the field. But my confidence is growing.

Booking It--Conditioning

Are you a spine breaker? Or a dog-earer? Do you expect to keep your books in pristine condition even after you have read them? Does watching other readers bend the cover all the way round make you flinch or squeal in pain?

No. No. Yes. Yes.

Oh, maybe I should elucidate.

I am very picky about the condition of my books. I don’t break spines and I don’t dog-ear, but I do write in them. For the uninformed, these actions are not in the same category AT ALL. Spine breaking and dog-earing show disrespect to books (and dramatically shorten their life span). On the other hand, underlining and writing in margins show a love and deep respect for books and the ideas they contain.

Of course, I’d rather buy all new books in hardback, but that can get expensive. So, I do buy a lot of used books, but even there I’m picky about the condition. An excellent-condition used hardback trumps a new paperback any day. Sometimes, a book I need has been out of print for a really long time, and I pretty much have to settle for the best of what’s available. But if I can, I’ll be choosy. Of course, like-new condition is best, but I’ll take a hardback with a missing dust jacket and worn edges over one that’s already been underlined or (horrors!) highlighted.

Once, though, I did get a book that had been highlighted and written in that I really enjoyed. The previous author had carefully highlighted only the words he or she didn’t know, then had looked them up and written the definitions in the margin with a very neat hand. The writer had also cross referenced passages in the text—“See page 153,” and on page 153, “Look back at page 19,” and made comments on writing style and organization--things like "Awkardly structured sentence," or “This should have been discussed back in chapter 2,” or “More examples would be helpful here . . .” I was really surprised that someone who put that much effort into a book would get rid of it, but it was a bonus for me. I felt as if I were reading the book and having a conversation about it at the same time.

O Overload

Am I the only one who's getting a little tired of Oprah being the self-appointed expert of EVERYTHING?