This novel spoke to me. First, for a few years now I've been pondering contemporary art installations and how the reactions of the people who view theThis novel spoke to me. First, for a few years now I've been pondering contemporary art installations and how the reactions of the people who view the art are actually part of the art, so I liked how this book explored that. Second, I am well familiar with the notion that living in a bland small town where nothing is really going on can make you do crazy things just to feel like something is happening. (The extreme reaction of some of the townspeople was less familiar to me, but then again, I didn't grow up in the South.)
Although there was considerable emotional impact by the end (I teared up!), for the most part this book was fast and fun. I know everyone loved Wilson's Nothing to See Here, but I could never get excited about the idea of a novel where kids catch on fire. How satisfying, then, that Wilson followed it up with a book that seems written expressly for me....more
A review isn't necessary, I don't think. You already know if this book is for you.A review isn't necessary, I don't think. You already know if this book is for you....more
Stir-Fry is Emma Donoghue's first novel, from before she became Slammerkin Emma Donoghue and certainly well before she became Emma Donoghue of Room faStir-Fry is Emma Donoghue's first novel, from before she became Slammerkin Emma Donoghue and certainly well before she became Emma Donoghue of Room fame. It was reviewed in Sassy magazine upon its hardback release in 1994, after which my sister and I read and liked it, but didn't love it. The paperback edition was released in 1996 by Alyson, the premier U.S. LGBT publisher of the time, which went under after it switched to all ebooks extremely prematurely. Stir-Fry has been out of print ever since, and I've wondered many times why the now-acclaimed Emma Donoghue hasn't allowed another publisher to bring it out. Now that I've reread it, I understand.
Stir-Fry is definitely dated, but not dated enough. Older books like, say, Fear of Flying or Tales of the City may not feel particularly relevant to our current moment, but they shed some light on the time when they were truly influential. When it comes to the mixture of "tolerance," ignorance, and downright homophobia the college students of Stir-Fry face, well... it's not quite the same as our current moment, but it's not far enough in our rear-view mirror to be truly educational, either. It all just feels a little... maybe "stale" is the word I'm looking for.
Equally stale is the book's structure. It's all talk, talk, talk, like Reality Bites or Before Sunrise if they happened to take place in a Dublin apartment. That doesn't sound too bad, but the endless dialogue probably seemed more clever back in the day, and 2020 Julie needed a little more action, a lot sooner than it eventually arrived.
Which is not to say this book is a waste of time. It's pleasant, its characters are likable enough, and I respect the considerable significance it had back in the 1990s, both for its subject matter and as the first stepping stone in the storied career that it turned out Emma Donoghue had ahead of her....more
I'd been spending my professional life, at GQ and Esquire both, reading fiction by men about men.... There sure were a lot of trains. Why were there sI'd been spending my professional life, at GQ and Esquire both, reading fiction by men about men.... There sure were a lot of trains. Why were there so many prostitutes? And why were so many of the women dead?... Oh, if I had a dime for each time I read the sentence "She made me feel alive ..." (to which my private stock response was always "And you made her feel dead"). (p. 152)
***
"I'm sorry I'm being so outspoken and bad-tempered," [David Foster Wallace] said. "I seem to have no filter when I talk to you. It's weird."
"Not a problem," I said. (p. 166)
***
There's more than one way to look at In the Land of Men. For me, the most obvious way to look at it is as a source of literary and publishing gossip. Adrienne Miller worked as the fiction editor of Esquire from 1997 to 2006, and the stories she has to tell about writers, editors, and publishing are the kind of thing I want to be reading all the time. If every person who worked in publishing before the internet took over wrote a memoir about their experiences, I would read them all. I just can't get enough, and the whole time I was reading this book it was all I wanted to do.
***
Of course, there's more to it than that. Miller became the fiction editor of Esquire at age twenty-five. It was a lot of power for a young woman and she had a good mentor, but it was a men's magazine and circumstances were not always ideal. The 1990s were an interesting time in that it seemed that a lot of progress had been made toward gender equality, and for a lot of men who considered themselves progressive and liberal and nonsexist, that seemed to translate into... freedom to be sexist. They seemed to feel that since they believed they were progressive and not sexist, by definition nothing they said or did could be considered sexist, even if it was actually sexist. And since we were all equal anyway, what did it matter? Certainly this book is full of examples like that; Miller experienced some truly outrageous behavior on the part of the men around her, and the recounting of it here is both the background and the foreground of In the Land of Men.
***
In the Land of Men is also the story of Miller's romantic (albeit mostly long-distance) relationship with David Foster Wallace. Miller becomes Wallace's editor for a story at Esquire, and he pretty much immediately moves in on her; it's uncomfortable for the reader, who senses that if Wallace had had more twentysomething tall blonde female editors, he'd have done exactly the same thing to all of them. The relationship ultimately doesn't work and Wallace comes off badly; he's possessive and jealous even after he moves in with another woman (!), and he implies Miller, and women in general, are just not that smart in comparison to men. But Miller continues to have a relationship with him, in one way or another, for years; she clearly saw something in him. This part of the book is like having a long, one-sided conversation with a friend in a bad relationship; she recounts his misdeeds and overanalyzes his behavior, but always maintains that he has a good side that makes the whole thing worthwhile. Sometime you believe her and sometimes you don't.
***
Miller makes a point of noting that, during her tenure as Esquire's fiction editor, she hired as many women as she could, albeit in mostly low-level positions. She also mentions in passing that she edited several female writers in addition to all the men (Jeanette Winterson is one I recall). Yet so little ink is spilled on these relationships or experiences. In the Land of Men is in part a book about the sexism of the 1990s publishing industry, but it is also preoccupied with only one writer: the white, male David Foster Wallace. It's hard not to feel this book perpetuates some of the very same sexism it's calling out. "This is my story," not Wallace's, Miller often reminds both herself and the reader, and sometimes it's a reminder that we need. For a reader like me, In the Land of Men has much to recommend it, but like Miller and Wallace's relationship... it's complicated.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway. Thank you to the publisher....more
In the months since I've read Writers & Lovers, I've certainly read higher-concept novels with more unconventional premises, but none of them have stuIn the months since I've read Writers & Lovers, I've certainly read higher-concept novels with more unconventional premises, but none of them have stuck with me the way this one has. I guess that's what a great character, a fabulous use of setting, and unshowy but skillful writing can do for a reader....more
I read Later in 2020, which was kind of a lost reading year for me (and definitely a lost reviewing year). I rated it four stars at the time, but two I read Later in 2020, which was kind of a lost reading year for me (and definitely a lost reviewing year). I rated it four stars at the time, but two years later I’m still thinking about it. Paul Lisicky’s great strength, here and in his earlier memoir The Narrow Door, is pulling you in so you feel like you’re there—in this case, in 1990s Provincetown. Even thinking back on it, the feeling of physically being there is undeniable. So I’m upping my rating to five stars. When’s your next book coming out, Paul Lisicky?...more
If I were to make a list of the people who’ve had a major impact on how I’ve livedI am not a pretty girl that is not what I do
—From “Not a Pretty Girl”
If I were to make a list of the people who’ve had a major impact on how I’ve lived my life, Ani Difranco would be right up there. I first heard her album Not a Pretty Girl when I was 24 or 25, and I’d never heard anything like it. Here was a female who was unafraid of the messiness of life and able to express it in a way I’d never heard before. All categories collapsed, all barricades fell. I was no longer bound by all of the ridiculous implied restrictions of being female (or even just human); Ani dismissed them all like it was her job (which it was!). And there’s nothing wrong with being angry, but Ani wasn’t angry: Even before she released her song “Joyful Girl,” it was obvious that what she did, she did with joy. It’s impossible to know who I’d be without her; I’d frankly rather not think about it.
she taught me how to wage a cold war with quiet charm but I just want to walk through my life unarmed to accept and just get by like my father learned to do but without all the acceptance and getting by that got my father through
—From “Angry Any More”
Reading No Walls and the Recurring Dream was surprising; I realized that despite all of the music I’d listened to and all the interviews I’d read (and there were a lot of them in the 1990s), I really didn’t know that much about her life. But it’s all here; some of it’s funny and all of it is interesting, but it was a little shocking how unstable her childhood was. Her parents seem like decent people overall, but from a young age, Ani was on her own: couch-surfing and staying with friends until she could complete her high school education early. Fortunately she had a lot of mentors in her music community in Buffalo, and all of that is charmingly rendered.
I was shocked to see the mistakes of each generation will just fade like a radio station when you drive out of range
—From “Out of Range”
In addition to her music, Ani made some of the kinds of poor decisions that young people tend to make, and reading about those made me realize just how heavily autobiographical her songs are. While reading this memoir I went back to those 1990s albums and constantly had dawnings of recognition: “So that’s who she’s talking about in that song!” This was fascinating, but if I’m being honest, I don’t think it improves my listening experience. I’m really glad I had decades with those songs before their origins were made quite so obvious to me.
I got pulled over in West Texas so they could look inside my car they said Are you an American citizen I said Yes sir, so far they made sure I wasn’t smuggling someone in from Mexico someone willing to settle for America ‘cause there’s nowhere else to go
—From “Every State Line”
An astonishing thing to realize was that, in the mid-1990s media blitz when Difranco seemed to be everywhere, she was still operating on a shoestring, still constantly traveling to gigs in a beat-up car, often by herself or with just one other person. Definitely some of the most fun and absorbing parts of the book recount these times, the people she met, and the impact those people had on her life and her songwriting. Still, the fact that everything was still so bare-bones precisely when she was at the height of her fame blew my mind.
I was once escorted to the doors of a clinic by a man in a bulletproof vest and no bombs went off that day so I am still here to say Birmingham, I’m wishing you of all my best on this Election Day
—From “Birmingham”
Part of the reason I knew so little about Ani’s life was because interviewers never asked about her life; they asked about her politics. This is because Ani wrote about her bisexuality and her abortions at a time when hardly anyone was willing to write songs about those things. Ani does talk honestly in this book about her two abortions; she also expounds at length on her philosophy regarding women’s reproductive systems, some of which made sense to me and some of which was way more woo-woo than I was expecting. I could’ve done without the woo-woo, if I’m being honest.
this country is too large and whoever’s in charge up there had better take the elevator down and put more than change in our cup or else we are coming up
—From “Coming Up”
As you can see from these song excerpts, Ani seems to have had a keen eye for the pressing issues of our day before many of us saw them as pressing, and her views on some of these issues are also expounded upon in her memoir—in addition to her feelings on reproductive rights, she talks about class issues and the death penalty, possibly among others I’ve now forgotten. I did appreciate hearing her views, but I wish they’d been set off somehow, possibly as mini-essays between chapters. As it stands now, the narrative came to a screeching halt every time she took on one of these topics. I wanted to get back to the good stuff! Speaking of which….
we’re in a room without a door and I am sure without a doubt they’re gonna wanna know how we got in here they’re gonna wanna know how we plan to get out
—From “Shameless”
I’m not going to lie, it was fascinating to hear directly from the source about the relationship that took up her entire (excellent) album Dilate. In fact, it was fascinating to get this inside view of everything—despite how Difranco’s career took off in the 1990s, everything about this memoir maintains a tight focus on what was actually taking place at the time. She doesn’t get caught up in her own hype, in other words, and that’s a pretty rare thing.
and no I don’t prefer obscurity but I’m an idealistic girl and I wouldn’t work for you no matter what you paid and I may not be able to change the whole fucking world but I can be the million you never made
—From “The Million You Never Made”
Perhaps that’s why it’s not too surprising that she doesn’t talk at length about the record companies that courted her in the 1990s and how she turned them all down. She makes a vague mention of looking at one label’s contract and realizing how much she’d have to give up, and in return for what, exactly? The bottom line is that she would rather be free to be herself even if it means making less money. Imagine if more recording artists went this route? Maybe pop radio wouldn’t be the mass-market horror show it currently is.
I’m going to do my best swan dive into shark-infested waters I’m going to pull out my tampon and start splashing around ‘cause I don’t care if they eat me alive I’ve got better things to do than survive
—From “Swan Dive”
A few reviewers are disappointed that Ani Difranco seems “unlikable” in this memoir. I don’t agree that she seems unlikable, but either way, “likable” was never the point for Ani and it clearly still isn’t. The Ani of her music and the Ani of this book are both people that I admire, if for no other reason than she is herself without apology. Like many people, I became less interested in Ani’s newer music as we both got older. No Walls and the Recurring Dream ends in 2000; the rest of her life is still a mystery to me, but the music doesn’t have to be. Now that I know a little more about Ani, I’m going to dive into her later stuff and see what I find there. I won’t be too surprised if what I really find is myself....more
It's always a pleasure to read a new memoir from an author whose memoirs you've enjoyed in the past—it's like catching up with an old friend. I particIt's always a pleasure to read a new memoir from an author whose memoirs you've enjoyed in the past—it's like catching up with an old friend. I particularly enjoyed Save Me the Plums because, in addition to the usual draws of a Reichl memoir (the writing and the recipes), this one was about her time as editor of Gourmet magazine. I love any kind of publishing story, really, and in this case it was so fascinating to go behind the scenes of a glamorous magazine, as many Conde Nast publications were at the time. Ruth Reichl was the perfect tour guide, because the entire magazine scene was completely new to her when she started, so she explained all the things a reader might most want to know.
Most memoirs are about the author's personal life; what's so unique about Save Me the Plums is that it's about work. It was fascinating to read about how Reichl managed the editorial transition, how she handled each of her powerful bosses, how she hired people to carry out her vision, how she convinced the powers that be to let her take chances. I loved hearing the story behind the publication of David Foster Wallace's now-famous essay "Consider the Lobster," for instance, and about the bets she placed with her bosses about which covers would succeed or fail on the newsstand. It occurs to me that this memoir, like Garlic and Sapphires, depends a lot on your interest in the profession Reichl is focusing on. Sapphires was my least favorite of hers because I don't care that much about restaurant reviewing; if you don't care much about magazine editing, be warned: there's a lot of it in here.
Of course, it's no spoiler to say this memoir ends with Gourmet being shut down and merged with Bon Appetit, and the chapters leading up to this, as Reichl takes on more and more in an attempt to save it, are some of the most honest, and also the saddest, in the book. Save Me the Plums is really an elegy for a time that's slipping away: When there were fabulous magazines full of quality material put together by smart people who really cared about doing something good. For some reason as a culture we've decided we don't want that anymore. But I was happy to have a chance to celebrate that era, and I couldn't have asked for a better companion than Ruth Reichl. Magazine publishing's loss is book publishing's gain; regardless of what Reichl decides to do next, I'll be more than happy to read her next book about whatever it is.
I won this ARC via Shelf Awareness. Thank you to the publisher!...more
Early in my publishing career I read a short story by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore. If I recall, it was only a few pages long, but I never, ever forgotEarly in my publishing career I read a short story by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore. If I recall, it was only a few pages long, but I never, ever forgot it. The voice! I never forgot it. I noticed over the years that Sycamore was publishing books, but my (long-subconscious) fear of no author living up to my first experience with them kicked in, and I never got around to any of them. Until now! When I won a copy of Sketchtasy in a Shelf Awareness giveaway, I was psyched! And when I read a few pages and realized the voice was similar to what I remembered, I was even more psyched.
Sketchtasy is a novel about Alexa, a young queer person living in Boston who's estranged from her parents, and her friends who are mainly in the same boat. Beyond that, it's a little difficult to describe. It takes place in the 1990s, so AIDS is a factor; there's a lot of drug-taking and some turning of tricks, and friendships form and lives come together, and then things fall apart and have to be rebuilt, over and over again. Alexa’s voice is humorous and casual, even gossipy at times, certainly drug-addled (which is part of the point) but there's also a lot that's sad and poignant about this book, and a lot that's emotionally astute.
This novel isn't necessarily for everyone. At times, the level of TMI approached The Pisces. But, you know, The Pisces was about a woman (view spoiler)[having an affair with a mermaid (hide spoiler)], and Sketchtasy is about things that actually happen in our actual world. Honestly, I get so bored sometimes of reading about privileged white people and their stupid problems. The whole time I was reading Sketchtasy I was acutely aware that for some people, back in the 1990s and even up to the present day, this book isn't fiction. It's a representation of a life that I have no experience with, but I was very grateful to get a glimpse of it. It's one of those books that you live along with the characters; once I was done it took a few days for me to shake it.
I was going to give this 4 stars, but the level of emotion I'm feeling as I'm writing this makes me want to bump it up. This is a wholly original work from a wholly original mind, and I'm very glad I had this opportunity to read it....more
How to Be Famous was a little disappointing. Caitlin Moran clearly had a lot of points to make, mostly about how women are perceived by the larger culHow to Be Famous was a little disappointing. Caitlin Moran clearly had a lot of points to make, mostly about how women are perceived by the larger culture, and I was fine with that. I like novels that make points. But nothing about this particular novel felt unified or organic; it was a bunch of interrelated points held together by a shaky scaffolding of plot. I think maybe How to Be Famous has a case of middle-book syndrome: It's neither the exciting opener of a trilogy nor its (hopefully) grand conclusion, just the book that gets you from one of those to the other. I still enjoyed it, just not as much as I expected to....more
I received this book last Wednesday and started it the very next day. This is unusual for me; no matter how much I want to read something, it usually I received this book last Wednesday and started it the very next day. This is unusual for me; no matter how much I want to read something, it usually has to sit around the house for a while before I'm ready to dive in (this is one reason I never read library books). In this case, though, I was about to finish a book that was pretty dark and disturbing. I opened Schadenfreude, A Love Story, read the joke on the very first page, and laughed out loud. I decided this memoir would be the perfect thing to lift me out of my reading-related funk.
And I was right! This book was funny. The stream of jokes in the first half of it was, in fact, pretty relentless. There is no element of her life, no matter how much of a bummer, that Rebecca Schuman can't make a total joke out of. Good for getting you out of your funk, for sure. But not so great when it comes to caring about a narrator. Rebecca Schuman's inability to take her own life seriously made it hard for me to take her life seriously either--which can be entertaining but ultimately makes for a somewhat hollow reading experience.
But that wasn't Schadenfreude's biggest problem. Honestly, this book is a mess. Most of it is about Schuman's experiences spending summers and semesters abroad in Germany. Elements of German culture and language dot the narrative, and Schuman's obsession with Kafka (who wrote in German) is a thread throughout, but mostly the book is about Schuman's attempts to be cool while studying abroad, including eschewing dorms to share apartments with actual Germans, wearing weird makeup and clothes, and drinking beer. This was the most enjoyable part of the book, but there was nothing particularly fascinating about it; it was pretty standard stuff for this type of memoir.
Still, reading about her experiences abroad was more satisfying than reading about her experiences as a grad student in German at UC Irvine, which make up the rest of the book. At this point, the actual "German-ness" of the narrative becomes even less important and the entire memoir turns into a screed about the folly of getting a PhD and attempting to gain a tenured position in academia. Given that Schuman has written about this topic on Slate for quite some time now, I shouldn't have been surprised when the narrative took this turn, but it just didn't work well with the previous section, or with the book's alleged main topic, which, again, was supposed to be all things German. Admittedly, Schuman is able to work Kafkan themes into this section much more handily than in the previous ones, but beyond that it could have been written about any grad program at all. There's also a point-by-point accounting of her initial courtship with the man who eventually became her husband, of the sort you'd maybe go over in your head obsessively while trying to figure out if your suitor liked you or not, or possibly share with a patient friend for the same purpose, but not the kind of thing that needs to included in a memoir. Then Schuman and her boyfriend get married and have a baby. The end! The end? Why do so many memoirs by women end with getting married and having a baby, even if the rest of the book was about something else entirely? It's so lazy and retro, and also dishonest, because these sorts of "happy endings" aren't actually endings at all. Life continues on, and finding a way to acknowledge that while tying in the theme of your book is the real challenge of writing an authentic conclusion.
I'm starting to think I'm going to avoid books by people whose primary writing has been internet-based. These people just do not understand that a book needs to have some kind of unifying structure. It's not enough to decide your theme is "German," then recount your life experiences in haphazard fashion while piping in a little "German" around the edges. I have German ancestry myself and I was really hoping to learn a thing or two from Schadenfreude, A Love Story. Alas, I just learned that having a regular internet column can land you a deal for a book you're not necessarily up to the challenge of writing. But unfortunately I knew that already.
I received this book via a giveaway here on Goodreads....more
Vividly I remember, in the fall of 1991, walking back to my college dorm room one afternoon and turning on my tiny dorm-room TV. There was certainly nVividly I remember, in the fall of 1991, walking back to my college dorm room one afternoon and turning on my tiny dorm-room TV. There was certainly no cable in dorm rooms back then, at least not at my school, so there was only one thing on: the Clarence Thomas Supreme Court hearings—specifically, the part of the proceedings where Anita Hill was being questioned. As I recall it, I put the TV on just in time to hear Arlen Specter suggest that Hill’s testimony was an elaborate scheme to get revenge on Thomas for rejecting her romantically ten years prior. Hill seemed baffled by this implication, as most of us would be, because we are actual human beings and not scorned women out of Shakespeare. I remember my jaw literally dropped, and I sank down on my bed to watch as much more of the hearings as I could stomach. There was no internet to speak of back then, so I had to wait a day or two to see if popular consensus matched my own opinion, but I was gratified to learn that many people were just as horrified as I was by the sight of that all-male committee grilling Hill as if she were the one being vetted, as if she were the one whose innocence or guilt was the point of the whole thing.
For many years, the sexual harassment aspect of the hearings has loomed so large that it was easy to overlook what else might have been going on at the time. It’s only now that I’ve finally read Strange Justice that all of the other elements in play have become clear: At this particular moment in history, the religious right, emboldened by the Reagan years, was doing everything it could to consolidate its power and become a dominant political force—and the appointment of Clarence Thomas, an unabashed conservative who was often scornful of affirmative action, was exactly what they needed to swing the Supreme Court in their favor. The power of conservative churches, including predominantly black churches in the south, was called upon to bolster Thomas’s case, and senate Democrats, already weakened and cowed by Reagan’s popularity, were too fearful of being called racist to actually fight the nomination. Everyone was prepared to allow it to happen when Anita Hill, with no clue of what she was walking into, turned up on the scene. So of course, the only thing to do was to tar her with as crude and cruel a brush as possible.
The excellent documentary Anita: Speaking Truth to Power makes clear how eminently reasonable Anita Hill was, and still is—but it doesn’t tell the whole story, which is mainly one of political backroom dealing, the willingness of one side to get as dirty as possible in order to get their way, and the weakness the other side displays in its feeble attempt at fairness. Some of the bigger names in the conservative movement make appearances here—Ken Starr, John Ashcroft, even good old Citizens United—and the start of a pattern becomes clear. Republicans were emboldened and well organized in those years and they have remained emboldened and well organized. Democrats (led by Joe Biden) were so invested in seeming “fair” that they allowed themselves to be walked all over, and that pattern has certainly continued—not even the immense popularity of Bill Clinton and Barack Obama and the razor-thin victories and unpopularity of George W. Bush have caused Democrats to really step up and take back the reins. Indeed, Jane Mayer’s more recent book Dark Money looks to be a natural extension of this one: The seeds planted here have continued to flower for the past two decades. This is how we got to where we are today.
There is a glimmer of hope in all this, of course. After watching Anita Hill be painted as crazy and promiscuous for accusing Thomas of harassment, American women were galvanized. A large number ran for office, resulting in much-improved representation in the Senate and House, and the third wave of feminism was born. It was a good lesson in how pushing people to their limits will eventually result in their pushing back. I think we’re seeing the same thing now. Given how little else there is to lose, perhaps our elected officials (the Democrats, anyway) will be on the side of the people this time and some lasting change will be effected....more
I related to this book so hard. Be my friend, Dave Holmes! I mean, I already have a friend named Dave Holmes (hi, Dave!), but I want this Dave Holmes I related to this book so hard. Be my friend, Dave Holmes! I mean, I already have a friend named Dave Holmes (hi, Dave!), but I want this Dave Holmes to be the Other Dave Holmes....more
The San Francisco season of The Real World was the best of all time. Hyperbole? Just look at the facts. Sure, the first New York season was good, but The San Francisco season of The Real World was the best of all time. Hyperbole? Just look at the facts. Sure, the first New York season was good, but it was short and unleashed Eric Nies onto the world. The L.A. season was good, but the people were all annoying, and not in an entertaining way. And obviously, the whole franchise started to go downhill after the third season.
But it all came together with the San Francisco cast, which featured mostly intelligent people who could carry on a conversation about any number of topics, and who wouldn’t dream of engaging in on-camera naked hot-tub hookups for the purposes of furthering their “acting” careers (sorry, traumatic flashback to the Las Vegas season). You had the beautiful SF locale, the entertaining drama of Puck, and most importantly, the compelling presence of Pedro Zamora, whose charisma, integrity, and desire to create positive change were equaled only by the impact he had on middle America’s idea of what a person with AIDS, or even just a regular old out gay person, might be like. He was a trailblazer in more than one way.
So when this book first came out in 2000, I naturally wanted to read it to learn more about the story—the things that happened off-camera, and after the cameras stopped rolling for good. Pedro and Me definitely delivered in this area. I don’t know why I decided to read it again now, but this time I was more curious about Judd Winick’s abilities as a comic-book artist—something I wasn’t really thinking about the first time around. I know Judd has had a lot of success in this area since the show ended, but since 2000 I’ve read a lot of graphic novels and wanted to know if his work stood up to some of the best of those.
Somewhat surprisingly, it absolutely did. I was impressed by both his artistic ability and his skill at telling the story—he effectively conveyed both the fun and the immense sorrow of the situation, and the book is never less than riveting. I was most surprised at his ability to convey emotion through the characters’ faces, possibly some of the most effective work I’ve ever seen in that area. I was constantly studying the faces, trying to figure out exactly how he’d done it. Very, very affecting. Given that it’s been more than 20 years since the show ended, I was a little surprised at how sad the ending still made me (let’s be honest: I cried like a baby), but that’s a testament to both Pedro’s story and Judd’s skill in telling part of it.
The copy I read this time was the second edition, released in 2008. In a new Foreword, Judd speculates about how Pedro would feel about the progress that’s been made against AIDS in the years since his death. In particular, Judd excoriates the useless “Abstinence-Only” programs that continue to exert influence in the U.S., despite the fact that they clearly don’t work. An unpleasant online search reminded me that one of their other housemates, Rachel Campos, has been using her platform as a former Real World star to push abstinence, among other aspects of her conservative agenda. How depressing that a person could live with someone like Pedro and yet refuse to learn anything from him. It there’s any justice in the world, Pedro’s message is the one that will continue to resonate across the years....more
My mother bought this for me back when it came out. I don't really remember anything about it, but I didn't hate it, so 2 stars.My mother bought this for me back when it came out. I don't really remember anything about it, but I didn't hate it, so 2 stars....more
I bought Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl soon after it was released, but didn’t read it until months later, after I’d finally started watching PortlandiI bought Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl soon after it was released, but didn’t read it until months later, after I’d finally started watching Portlandia and found that I’d gotten so fond of it that I wanted to spend as much time with Carrie as possible. Like several other reviewer-friends, I’ve never been a huge fan of Sleater-Kinney’s music, and I was more interested in Carrie herself and her evocation of the Pacific Northwest in the 1990s. On both of these fronts, the book did not disappoint. Carrie wrote about her own youth and her family very poignantly, and the scenes of her college years and her youthful strivings to fit in, to stand out, and to make music were all very well done and interesting. Despite my lack of familiarity with a lot of Sleater-Kinney’s music, probably my favorite parts of the book were those that took place after the band had some success; reading about how they dealt with fame and how it affected their creative process was really fascinating. I agree with the reviewers who expressed disappointment that there was nothing about Portlandia in here, but the overall tone of Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl was so serious that I think it would’ve been inappropriate to switch gears to the (presumably more lighthearted) tale of the making of a comedy show. Here’s hoping Carrie writes another memoir that picks up where this one leaves off and provides us with all the creative details of the fourth decade of her life, and beyond....more
While I always enjoy Clueless when I watch it, I'm not some kind of Clueless superfan or anything. I wanted to read this because I'd already read two While I always enjoy Clueless when I watch it, I'm not some kind of Clueless superfan or anything. I wanted to read this because I'd already read two oral-history articles about this movie--one in Entertainment Weekly a few years ago, and one in Vanity Fair just this past month (which was actually an excerpt from this book). With both articles, I found that not only did I really like reading them, I also wished they would go on much, much longer. With this book I got my wish, and I enjoyed every page. If you like Clueless and are interested in how movies get made, you pretty much can't go wrong....more
So, I knew some things about this book going in. I knew its author had written it when she was in her early twenties and that it was published when shSo, I knew some things about this book going in. I knew its author had written it when she was in her early twenties and that it was published when she was 25. I knew the book’s basic thesis was that most women who say they’ve been raped by someone they know (as opposed to the stranger-jumping-out-of-the-bushes-with-a-knife scenario) are either lying about or misinterpreting their experiences, and their “speaking out” about these (misrepresented) experiences (at Take Back the Night marches, or anywhere else, really) leads to an “atmosphere of fear” on campuses, where women don’t feel safe walking alone at night, and men become afraid to have sex with anyone without getting their express consent first (poor men!). I knew Roiphe didn’t have a lot of evidence to support her points. I knew that her own publisher had felt that the book was reprehensible, but that it would get a lot of attention. I knew that, for all the attention the book did get, it actually hadn’t sold that many copies, and I knew that in the intervening years Katie Roiphe hadn’t become any kind of go-to authority on campus rape—or on anything else, for that matter. How mad could I really get about a book that didn’t have much of an impact on anything, I wondered. I decided, going into this, that instead of being disgusted, I was going to try to be amused.
What I didn’t know was exactly how poorly this book was going to be argued. I mean, sure, she offers no documentation of any kind to support anything she says (well, she offers a little, but I already knew it had been handily taken down by Katha Pollitt in her New Yorker review of the book). But it wasn’t just that—the book is illogical and contradicts itself over and over. It accuses so-called “rape crisis feminists” of hyperbole but is insanely hyperbolic itself. Roiphe quotes writers she disagrees with and then restates their arguments, but it’s perfectly clear, just from the brief quotes themselves, that she’s misconstruing these writers. I read this with pen in hand, prepared to call out anything disingenuous, but I didn’t expect the book to be as covered with marginalia as it quickly became. A sampling: “Illogical,” “Hyperbolic,” “Contradictory,” “Weak,” “I don’t buy it,” “What?”, “Please,” “WTF,” “JFC,” “Shut up,” “You’re a mean bitch.” The book also reads like a senior thesis or a long editorial for the campus newspaper—in other words, the writing’s not very good.
As others have pointed out, Roiphe wrote this from a position of privilege: She grew up in a wealthy, intellectual New York family, went to a fancy private school, then to Harvard, then to Princeton for grad school, which was where she wrote this book. She clearly feels that her experiences on Ivy League campuses are applicable everywhere—at religious colleges, for example; at small private or state colleges in conservative parts of the country; at urban campuses; rural campuses; at campuses with big athletic programs. If you want to get hammered while reading this (probably a good idea), just take a drink every time she says “at Princeton,” “at Harvard,” or “at Wesleyan” (one of her sisters must have gone to Wesleyan). She never questions her own assumptions or the limits of her own experiences; she never brings up privilege except in service of this point: “Who else besides these well-dressed, well-fed, well-groomed [Princeton] students would expect the right to safety and march for it?” Uh … what?
Roiphe also shows a lack of compassion for others that’s practically pathological. She thinks most women who say they’ve been date-raped are lying, yes, but she also criticizes the women who she believes really have been raped, saying the way they talk about their experiences (feeling “violated” or “defiled,” for instance) “frames those experiences in archaic, sexist terms.” Hard to believe rape victims don’t spend more time worrying about whether their own feelings are archaic and sexist, isn’t it? (No.)
In a completely misguided chapter, Roiphe attempts to show that campuses have become like the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (with Roiphe as Alice, of course) in their bizarre focus on all things postmodern, deconstructionist, poststructuralist, feminist, and multicultural. (This was an easier argument to make in the 1990s, but of course, the way things were at Harvard and Princeton doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the way they were at most colleges.) How does Roiphe make her argument? By describing some of her fellow students—feminists who wear thrift-store clothes, for example, even though they come from wealthy families. Feminists who wear extremely stylish clothes, who I guess spend too much time on their appearance to really be feminist? (Not clear.) A feminist who shows a lot of ambition regarding finding a good job after graduation. (?) Poor, misguided male feminists. The clear intent here is to show how ridiculous these people are, but what I saw was a group of young people trying to figure things out, like most of us did in college. Roiphe’s sense of superiority is almost unbearable. She often depicts herself arguing with these people, or bringing up contrary points in class, and the clear implication is that she is a lone voice in the wilderness, crying out for reason and being shouted down at every turn. Of course, this didn’t stop her from going on to Princeton after she graduated from Harvard, so it couldn't have been that bad. The main conclusion I reached from this chapter is that Roiphe is mean, petty, and has a well-developed superiority complex, and it’s from these qualities that this book arises.
I bought this book back in the early 1990s, when it first came out. I don’t really know why I bought it, except that I was a women’s studies minor in college and thought I should be keeping up with current arguments. But again, I knew what the book was about, and that made me reluctant to take it off the shelf and dive in. I’m glad I waited until now to read it—back then the book would have completely enraged me, but I might not have been able to see through her shoddy arguments so handily. Now, seeing through her arguments was easy, and although the book made me angry, I wasn’t quite as worked up as I would’ve been at 22 (good thing, too, because my blood pressure isn’t quite what it was back then either). Like I said, I now know this book didn’t really change anything. I’m pretty surprised by the positive reviews on Goodreads—don’t people recognize poor arguments when they see them? This book makes many claims, but in the end it proves nothing.
3/27/15: This book was much, much worse than I was expecting, and that's really saying something because I was expecting it to be totally awful. A TL;DR review is forthcoming....more
Reading Girls to the Front made me realize how little I really know about riot grrrl. In my defense, during the years portrayed in this book, I was atReading Girls to the Front made me realize how little I really know about riot grrrl. In my defense, during the years portrayed in this book, I was attending a suburban Catholic university with a conservative administration and a mostly conservative student body. The fact that I read Gloria Steinem and listened to Tori Amos made me more radical than about 97 percent of the people there. So really, most of what I know about riot grrrl I learned from Sassy magazine.
For this reason, I found this book fascinating from a purely informational standpoint. It was great to learn more about the key players (mostly musicians) and their scenes, about the regular non-musician girls who picked up the gauntlet and ran with it, about the prevailing philosophies and important events of the movement. The eventual infighting that occurred didn't bother me—you're always going to have this in any group of strong-willed people, and honestly, it was good gossipy fun.
More importantly, I was inspired by the creativity of these women and by their determination, when they didn't fit into the prevailing culture, to critique the culture instead of just buying into the idea that there was something wrong with themselves. Like Susan Brownmiller's In Our Time, this book reminded me that you don't need a huge number of people in order to have an impact on society, just a small group of people with a compelling vision. Riot grrrl may not have lasted long, but I think it was a pivotal step in the ever-evolving and necessary project of feminism, and this book does it justice....more
