women and writing

I’ve been thinking again about chick lit vs. lit lit since reading this Salon review of Elaine Showalter’s history of American women writers, A Jury of Her Peers. (That the book is called “monumental” in this review is, frankly, a deterrent for me to take it on. Some words just scare me off a book: monumental, lyrical, postmodern, magical realism. I’m stodgy that way. And linear. But I am interested so I might give it a shot.)

One interesting point Showalter makes, as discussed in the review, is that historically, European women writers tended to create greater works of literature because they had servants. American women writers were so busy with housework, they had less time for writing and their field of experience was proscribed by the demands of their lives. Reviewer Laura Miller writes:

The obvious subject for such women was what they knew: home life. But, as Showalter observes, "Domestic fiction has been the most controversial genre in the literary history of American women's writing, an easy target for mockery and an embarrassment to feminist critics who wish to change the canon." Margaret Fuller articulated that ambivalence when she announced that she wanted to "not write, like a woman, of love and hope and disappointment, but like a man, of the world of intellect and action"; she never managed to pull it off. … Even socially influential writers, like Harriet Beecher Stowe (teased by Abraham Lincoln for starting the Civil War), got sniffed at by the critical establishment, and it only got worse when the 20th century ushered in the cult of the he-man novelist as personified by Ernest Hemingway. (The leftist writer Meridel Le Sueur complained that an editor rejected one of her stories for lacking the requisite amount of what she called "fishin', fightin' and fuckin'.")

And that,

… many critics and editors, especially male ones, make a fetish of "ambition," by which they mean the contemporary equivalent of novels about men in boats ("Moby-Dick," "Huckleberry Finn") rather than women in houses ("House of Mirth"), and that as a result big novels by male writers get treated as major events while slender but equally accomplished books by women tend to make a smaller splash.

This is clear and obvious to me—and the review points out that critical acclaim leads to the kinds of grants and gigs that allow writers to support themselves to write, and those go primarily to men.

I’m still sorting out in my mind, though, the difference between women’s literature and chick lit and what allows traditionally told female-centric stories to transcend the chick lit label. Jane Smiley has broken out, has Anne Tyler? Annie Proulx, definitely, although I struggle with her. I read her book Postcards on a trip once and found it relentlessly bleak. I left it in an airport when I was finished (I often do that when I travel) and then felt guilty because someone else would pick it up and end up as depressed as I.

Is Nick Hornby chick lit? Was Edith Wharton chick lit in her day? As I recall from the monumental biography of her that I half read, she saw greater success than her friend and contemporary Henry James, but did she get the same critical respect? (I don’t remember off the top of my head. Anyone? She certainly has my respect. I adore her.)

And I recall a friend telling me about being told by agents and publishers that because her novel was about a teenaged girl, it could not be sold as an adult novel and needed to be recast as a young adult novel. Yet the male coming-of-age novel is a literary institution.

I’m confused.

Of course, Showalter points out that changing attitudes about domestic fiction is only one way for women writers to gain more respect. The other is for us to seize the big canvases.

Sigh. I don’t think I have the big canvas in me. (And of course you realize, this is all about me. It’s my blog.) Maybe I do. Maybe I have to get all my little stories out of me first and eventually the big story I have to tell will coalesce.

I guess I just have to live long enough and keep writing.

this n that tuesday

The Dallas Morning News is launching a new publication called The Briefing, which will be an abbreviated newspaper—a one-section broadsheet, that will be delivered free to non-subscribers. Full story here.

Hm…interesting concept. I’m trying to decide how I feel about this. Advertisers will like it since it will deliver their ads into more hands. And that may keep the the dinosaur lumbering along a little longer. I'm all for that.

Funny--I can’t imagine my newspaper taking any less time to read in the morning than it already does, although I do have the benefit of spending days at my computer, keeping up with news online, so I can breeze through much of it. A lot of people don’t have that luxury. (I spoke to a busy working single mom recently who, when I mentioned the earthquake in China, said, “There was an earthquake in China?”)

Still, I’m always slightly irked at the benefits showered on new customers/non customers by companies. You know, the old open a bank account, get a free toaster thing. No interest introductory rates on credit cards.

At best, existing customers can opt-in to be barraged by offers of nominal discounts from various “partners.” (I don’t consider 10% off to be anything but a come-on) If my credit card company really wanted to show its appreciation, it would reward me with a couple of interest-free months. My newspaper—I pay $228 a year for a daily subscription--would cut me a price deal or give me access to its online archives free. My bank could toss $25 in my account for every year I stick with it. That kind of thing. Show me some love.
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I’m not usually a National Review kind of girl, but this essay by Mark Steyn tickled me. Yes, I support Obama and will vote for him. No question. I think the army of malevolent Hillary supporters planning to vote for McCain are some sort of invented bogeywomen.

But I admit that I will get some small satisfaction in seeing Obama parsed with the same glee and attention that Hillary was throughout the campaign, as in Steyn’s essay.
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Here is a fabulous blog post from Judith Warner (thanks Mary) that ties together Hillary and Sex in the City. Take a moment to take a look.

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And finally, watch this video and tell me again how there was no sexism and misogyny in this past campaign.

follow-up

MsKrit, whose depth of celebrity knowledge always surprises me, sends me this news about our insane young woman wearing her underwear over her clothes. Yeah, I suppose if you're annoying three times in the same ad, that would count as overexposed.

My friend Nancy sent me this fabulous Salon.com essay by Joan Walsh about what Obama must do to win over Hillary's constituency--especially women. Especially middle-aged women, who were brutalized by this campaign.

I've been stunned by the extent to which trashing Clinton supporters as washed up old white women is acceptable,Walsh writes. A writer whose work I respect submitted a piece addressed to "old white feminists," telling them to get out of Obama's way. I've found my own writing often dismissed not on its merits (or lack thereof) but because as a woman who will turn 50 in September, I'm supposed to be Clinton's demographic. Salon's letters pages, as well as the comments sections around the blogosphere, are studded with dismissive, derisive references to bitter old white women.

I'm all verklempt.

no thanks

Although I like both sex and the city, I don’t really get the whole cult status of Sex and the City. I used to watch it in reruns sometimes, BC (Before Cable) but found it more irritating than entertaining.

I was particularly annoyed to read a quote from a 45-year-old woman in today’s paper saying, “They were the first really powerful women” on television.

Wow. Can we define power here? Yeah, have good jobs, although except attorney Miranda, they all were in pink-collar jobs. (And, by the way, could Carrie really afford all those clothes on a columnist’s salary? She must work at the same place the friends of Friends worked to pay for all those nice apartments.)

But what they did most was talk about men, think about men, fret about men, sleep with men, pine for men, break up with men … I know sex is in the title, but where is the power in all that? Considering that the theme of the show seems to be we don’t need no stinkin’ men, we have each other! they sure seem boy crazy. Bo-ring.

And let’s talk about powerful women on TV. While she’s at the front of my mind--what with the death of Harvey Korman-—how about Carol Burnett? She was powerful as a professional and she was completely in control of her comedy. Maude was a powerful female character. The golden girls of The Golden Girls had a lot more on their minds than men, even though they were out there dating and getting laid plenty. I know that because the show has become one of my late night guilty pleasures. Believe it or not (I know you don’t) it’s funny.

Mary Richards was virginal, but she was out there makin’ it on her own. Actually, the girls of SATC are more like Rhoda, who was supposed to be the boy-crazy loser on the MTM show. Hot Lips Hoolihan wasn’t above a little extramarital hoohoo, but she was nothing if not strong like ox and she had lots more on her mind than shoes and penis.

Yeah, SATS brought a baby into the mix, and breast cancer. But in the shows I saw, all the other characters were self-congratulating when they tore themselves away from their sexual needs to pay attention to the enormous life challenges their dear, dear friends faced. Such sacrifice!

First strong women on television? I don’t see the characters of SATS as strong at all. I see them as needy, demanding and annoying. They might have been the first to talk openly about sex, but they also had the benefit of cable. The Golden Girls was pretty good at innuendo, working within network broadcasting codes.

Are the women who admire this gang of whiners as strong women to emulate the same ones who think a Hillary nutcracker is funny?

OK, I’ll give the show one thing: The catch phrase “He’s just not that into you” is incredibly useful and applies in various contexts. But even Dr. Phil has contributed to our society with “How’s that workin’ for you?” which is equally useful although he is equally annoying.

I won’t be getting a gang of gal pals together to partake in this particular pop culture nonevent. I’m just not that into them.

full-throttle flotsam

Alrighty then, lots of flotsam for your procrastinators today. A little something for everyone. (Maybe. I don’t know.)

I am happy to report that the incorrigible Jack has become partly corriged. He has adjusted to the electric fence and no longer wanders at will. No more crossing the creek and coming home muddy, no more chasing off the mailman, no more patrolling the alley and riling up the other dogs. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized by the limits. Perhaps the responsibility of patrolling so large an area weighed heavily on his burly shoulders and troubled his large noggin. His own yard is large enough. So many squirrels, so little time. And so much napping to be done. How is one dog to do it all without some limits?

Now I need an electric fence for the sofa. He is not allowed on the sofa and knows it, but at night, after we go to bed, he helps himself. At the suggestion of one of his many trainers, I tried booby trapping it last night by covering it with newspapers and balancing a couple beer cans filled with coins on the papers, which were supposed to fall off and make noise and either frighten him off or wake us up. They did neither. He managed to fit his large tuchus between the cans, barely even disturbing them. So, back to shutting him out of the living room at night. He hates that. The other night, I had to put his leash on him and drag him out. Literally drag him—he put that aforementioned large tuchus on the floor and wouldn’t move it.

Brat.

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Slate has a special issue on procrastination (speaking of blogging) which includes this story, asking the question What is the difference between severe procrastination and writer's block?

So, I have this novel I’ve been working on for about three years. I’m in revisions. Ten painful pages at a time. And a half-finished book proposal that’s been collecting cyber dust for more than a year. So slow. I could do better. I know it. I’m not blocked, I’m procrastinating, Because as long as these remain remain unfinished they might be brilliant. If I finish them, their lead feet will be obvious.

Says one expert: "The chronic procrastinator knows he's presenting a negative image, but he'd rather be perceived negatively for lack of effort than for lack of ability."

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The research corner:

Important news about men and their thingies: First, the International Society for Sexual Medicine has only just come up with (no pun intended) a formal definition of premature ejaculation. I know, can you believe it? I personally have never encountered this particular problem but in case you’re wondering, it is now defined as: “a male sexual dysfunction characterized by ejaculation which always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration; and, inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations; and, negative personal consequences, such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy.”

And, says the study’s main author, “The hope is that more people with these symptoms will understand this is an actual health condition and seek treatment. They no longer need to suffer in silence.”

In related thingie-research: Gastric Bypass Surgery Restores Sexual Function in Morbidly Obese Men—Losing weight may help resolve erectile dysfunction in obese men.

Mostly, it helps them get laid more, I assume.

Having just experienced a highly unpleasant allergic reaction to a drug (my friends got all the gory details, I spared most of you) I was drawn to research into why scratching helps an itch. The study involved 13 healthy participants who underwent testing with functional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) technology that highlights areas of the brain activated during an activity. Participants were scratched on the lower leg with a small brush. The scratching went on for 30 seconds and was then stopped for 30 seconds – for a total of about five minutes.

“To our surprise, we found that areas of the brain associated with unpleasant or aversive emotions and memories became significantly less active during the scratching,” said Yosipovitch. “We know scratching is pleasurable, but we haven’t known why. It’s possible that scratching may suppress the emotional components of itch and bring about its relief.”

So scratching is not really physical relief, it’s emotional. Which, when you think about it makes sense. Itching is so miserable … a persistent itch makes you want to scream, cry, bang your head repeatedly against a wall. Finally succumbing to the urge to scratch? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s more than physical relief. It’s bliss—however short lived and guilty, since we know we shouldn’t scratch.

The rash is fading and I will never take Aleve again.

Here’s a fun read from the Wall Street Journal, about retail therapy. Yup, psychologists and neuroscientists are studying that, too. Not to help us, mind you. To help retailers.

But keep this in mind—just like those little 100-calorie size snack packs of cookies and other treats can help us eat less, how we carry money can help us spend less, according to one study: Students were given $100 in pretend cash to participate in a gambling study. Some students received one sealed envelope with all the money, and others got 10 sealed envelopes that each contained $10. Individuals with multiple envelopes tended to spend less, sometimes half of what the people with the single envelope spent. "The power of partitioning can reduce spending by 50 percent," Cheema said.

I don’t like carrying lots of cash for this very reason. If I have it, I spend it. If I have to go back to the ATM, I become more aware of my spending. (And I am on near-lockdown on credit cards right now. Not complete, but I’m staying careful. Baby needs a new tank of gas…)

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Dunno why it’s taken me so long, but I’d like to point out a new blogroll link—to the blog of my friend Jenna and her friend Rachel. The Haiku Diaries is commentaries on life entirely in the 5-7-5 format. It’s so much fun. I like to comment in haiku when I’m feeling sharp enough.

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This week instead of just a list of google searches, a little commentary on a select few.

I find a lot of searches that look like this: 2008 contact emails of the doctors @yahoo.com in Florida; email contact women's america 2008@yahoo.com

I was baffled until learning that these are the kinds of searches used by spammers to harvest email addresses. OK, that would explain the ever-thickening blizzard of spam I receive.

Three of my photos have become very popular: the one of a pyramid at Teotihuacan, the portrait of a xoloescuintle and the plastic army men war atrocities. These turn up so often, I assume someone is using them for something somewhere, but I can’t figure out how to figure it out.

Someone searched hillary jillette cunt which I suppose relates to Hillary Clinton and Penn Jillette. I know he called her a bitch. Did he call her a cunt, too? What a prick.

Someone searched Elizabet gilbert eat, pray, love review childfree, which is a little confusing.

Chelle, someone searched you. Someone searched my brother Oliver. And someone searched "black and blue" "rolling stones" tribute band dallas, texas myspace which had a very happy ending, since it resulted in a job for Black and Blue. May 31, Tolbert’s in Grapevine. Glad to help…

And that's Friday.

if it's friday it must be flotsam

Lots of flotsam today so let’s get busy.

First, shameless promotion: Black and Blue and the AllGood Café tomorrow night. Meet me there! The Dallas Observer advanced the show here.

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A month or so ago, my brother sent me this link to Missing Money, a site that searches for unclaimed property (i.e. money). He’d searched my name and found money owed to me. I went to the site, filled out the brief form and forgot all about it. Well shiver me timbers and blow me over—a check for $371 turned up in my mailbox last week! Try it.

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The email subject line said: Press release

The message said: Hope your readers find this press release of interest.

The press release was an attached Word document.

If ever a presentation begged to be ignored, it’s this one. A subject and message that tells me nothing, and an attachment from someone I don’t know. Maybe it’s a perfectly legitimate release with information that my readers would find of interest but I’m not going to investigate. Hit delete, get on with my life. The world is full of cluelessness.

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Here’s a nifty little tip from the NYT tech blog. If you use Firefox, you can bring up the Quick Find box to search a page by just hitting the forward slash key (same key as the question mark). Seconds saved every week!

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Texas Tech University psychology department has launched a series of short podcasts about this and that, psychology-ish, featuring interviews with experts here and there. Here’s the homepage. They’re a little homespun sounding but that’s OK.

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I don’t know why this story is buried on page 3 of the business section, but it’s big exciting news to me. Gas prices are causing people to “stampede” to small car. Can I get a HELL YEAH?

Unfortunately, this is bad news for SUV and truck manufacturers (i.e. American companies). But it's good for the planet, the highways and my blood pressure, since the mere sight of a Hummer makes it soar. I'm very sensitive that way.

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Another of my pet peeves is the luxurification of the world. Have I discussed that before? How we seem to be devaluing all qualities—quaint, cozy, charming, kitschy—in favor of luxurious? It’s one of my favorite rants, I’m happy to go into it if I’ve neglected to rant it here.

Anyway, the DMN has a story this morning that seems to back my point, about a direct sales company called Home Interiors that was extremely successful until new owners decided to aim for the high-end market instead of the cozy low-incomers for whom the brand was developed. It didn’t work and now the company is filing for bankruptcy.

I love having my prejudices affirmed.

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The snarky chick-oriented website Jezebel puts an interesting and believable spin on reports that the depression rate in women is twice that of men.

The Jezebel writer suggests that this isn’t because twice as many women as men get depressed but because women are so much more likely to go for treatment when they do. She speculates that many more men are depressed than ever seek treatment. If some dude is walking around depressed but undiagnosed, does he count? she asks.

It’s a good post, take a look.

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Jezebel has also alerted me to a Ms. magazine article that sounds interesting, about self-objectification or "viewing one's body as a sex object to be consumed by the male gaze."

The post continues: More and more women are viewing themselves as sex objects, says Caroline Heldman, Ph.D., an assistant professor of politics at Occidental College, and it's due in large part to the veritable onslaught of advertising images that we're subjected to.

I think this is right on right on but the only solution offered, evidently, is to avoid media images objectifying women, but that would pretty much mean locking oneself in a dark room.
Read the post yourself.

I certainly wish I could stop constantly comparing myself with other women--both media images and women I see every day. It’s a miserable pastime, a distracting little drone in my head: I’m fatter than her…I’m thinner than her...fatter…thinner…fatter…fatter…older…younger….fatter…

What a useless waste of brain energy.

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Hey, the cool website WorldHum linked to my post this week about how rising travel costs might discourage dabblers from traveling. OK, so I alerted an editor to the post in a bit of Shameless Self Promotion, but he liked it enough to link so that was very gratifying.

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Finally, in what may become a weekly voyeuristic feature as long as I feel like it, this week’s Google searches that brought people to this site are:

xoloescuintle price

Thank God I books for sale Castagnini

inside the brain of a narcissist

Narcissist Bully

negative reviews of elizabeth gilbert's eat, pray, love

gmail emails not reaching their destination

derivation of lithium name

cashmere bouquet plant

customer support gmail

outlook autofill subject line

mayeaux pronunciation

odd looking dogs

give me obama email adress and guest 2008@yahoo.com

Xoloescuintle Dog

jack kent cooke Conundrum

gmail to yahoo not getting sent

my newspaper

The front page of today’s Dallas Morning News includes articles about new trails and a nature center along the Trinity River; about the raid on a polygamist ranch in West Texas; about the problems with privatization of Texas’ social services; about a debate over nets people who live on golf courses are erecting to catch errant balls before they do damage and, oh yes, a small wire story about Iraq.
So I’m wondering if the newspaper front page is even relevant anymore. Except for that wee international story and two state stories, how does this front page differ from the Metro section?

Newspapers are so confused these day.

The Metro section front page leads with the story I care about most—four teenagers were arrested as suspects in last month’s 26 car fires in Oak Cliff. Why is that not on the front page rather than the golf balls story? If people decide to live on golf courses, aren’t flying balls, um, par for the course? (Evidently, improvements in golf equipment allow bad golfers to hit balls farther and so the problem is growing. Poor, poor people on golf courses.)

I’m not sure why I’m expected to care so much about this that the story needs to be on the front page of my morning paper. Some people might suggest that it’s because the golf balls problem is in (wealthy) Plano whereas the car fires are in (depressed) Oak Cliff. That’s what some people might suggest. After all, aren’t crime and burning cars par for the course in Oak Cliff? Some people might think so.

Perhaps newspaper redesigns should be less about typeface than how the news is categorized. Perhaps we should have good news/bad news sections. Or rich man/poor man news. And sports, of course—although then we’d have to decide where today’s story about selling top-tier season tickets for the new Cowboys stadium should go. Is this sports or rich man news, since these seat licenses range between $16,000 and $150,000, with an additional $340 per ticket per game. (Woe is me, what is the world coming to?) It’s in the business section today, along with a story about how it’s getting harder to get loans for college. Interesting story and it's in the business sevtion …why?

Maybe we don’t even need to divide the newspaper into sections anymore, although that would make it hard to share in the morning.

An unrelated note: Writing in the New York Times, Nicholas Kristof cites evidence supporting my theory that sexism is more entrenched than racism.

gloria sez

Much better than I.

awf

So I’m trying to wrap my mind around the fact that when blacks talk about racism, the nation is awed but when women talk about sexism, we are mocked. Shoulder pad feminists, my ass….as always, it comes down to what women wear.

I’d like to point out that racism is divided by race but in our world, all the races are united in sexism. Women are fair game to all. You can make jokes about women in general. Jokes about fat women are mainstream. Old women are frequently portrayed as ridiculous. Blond jokes are a national institution.

Maureen Dowd, The New York Times, Feb. 13, 2008
Relaying a joke told by Penn Jillette: "Obama is just creaming Hillary. You know, all these primaries, you know. And Hillary says it's not fair, because they're being held in February, and February is Black History Month. And unfortunately for Hillary, there's no White Bitch Month."

And this is different from Don Imus…how? Actually Don Imus managed to insult all women, black and white, but it was the black part that caused the real uproar. (The column from which the above was excerpted, by NOW president Kim Gandy, is great reading.)

Women are still murdered for being not toeing the line men set.

From NOW: Every day four women die in this country as a result of domestic violence, the euphemism for murders and assaults by husbands and boyfriends. That's approximately 1,400 women a year, according to the FBI. The number of women who have been murdered by their intimate partners is greater than the number of soldiers killed in the Vietnam War.

From UNESCO, as published on PBS.org:... the UNESCO project illustrates the wildly varying data on human trafficking produced by government organizations and NGOs (non-governmental organizations). For example, in 2001, the FBI estimated 700,000 women and children were trafficked worldwide, UNICEF estimated 1.75 million, and the International Organization on Migration (IOM) merely 400,000. In 2001, the UN drastically changed its own estimate of trafficked people in 2000 -- from 4,000,000 to 1,000,000.

There’s that pesky wage gap…

From NOW: Fifty-five percent of all women work in female-dominated jobs (jobs in which women comprise 70 percent or more of the workforce) whereas only 8.5 percent of all men work in these occupations. However, the men working in female-dominated jobs still receive about 20 percent more than women who work in female-dominated jobs.

And poverty gap…

From the U.S. Census: Women are more likely than men to live in poverty.
In 2001, 12.9 percent of the female population and 10.4 percent of the male population lived below the poverty level. Poverty rates were highest for children: the proportions of boys and girls (those under 18) who were poor were not statistically different (16.4 percent and 16.2, respectively). From ages 18 to 64, the poverty rate was 11.6 percent for women and 8.5 percent for men. For those 65 years and over, the poverty rate was 12.4 percent for women compared with 7.0 percent for men (see Figure 6). Like income, poverty varies by family type. Of families living in poverty in 2001, 50.9 percent were maintained by women with no spouse present, 40.5 percent were married-couple families, and 8.5 percent were maintained by men with no wife present.

In my business, some of us were mighty happy to learn of women doing loudly what some of us were doing quietly for years— counting bylines in the major (i.e. prestigious and high-paying) magazines. What a surprise! More men than women!

Am I pissed? Yup, I’m an angry white female.

Speaking of what not to wear, I then pick up my paper and see a photo of this full-grown man, Jason Helgeson, dressed like a five-year-old and am yet more disgusted.

Guys can get away with just about anything but when women gripe, even other women turn against them.