Feminist reading – Page 5 – A Bevy of Books

I could drink a case of this…

I ‘discovered’ Joanne Harris after seeing (and loving) the movie Chocolat (a favorite of mine with an incredible cast: Juliet Binoche, Carrie-Anne Moss, Alfred Molina, Dame Judie Dench and the ever-fabulous Johnny Depp). Of course I took note of the fact that it was based on a book and went looking for other books by Harris. I read Five Quarters of an Orange a few years later and was also impressed, so I added Harris to the list in my head. I was at Powell’s a few weeks ago with $40 in birthday money, and Blackberry Wine was on sale for $5, so it quickly went into the basket – I didn’t even read the back.

Blackberry Wine is the story of a writer who’s drinking his life away after his first book succeeds wildly and he can’t follow it up. It takes a ghost from the past (both literally and figuratively) to wake him up to his life. It’s about listening to your conscience and not judging people. It’s also a book about the pleasures of life in a rural setting, connected to the land and the people who live and work with it. And all of that without a moment of preachiness or insulin shock. The other two stories I’ve read featured strong female lead characters, and – while this main character is a man – the book has its share of confident females. Sounds perfect to me.

For those of you that don’t like stories that jump around in time, this book is not for you (and why on earth are you reading this blog?!). The changes are clearly marked and easy to follow (at least IMHO) but you see Jay as an adult then a child and back again many times but at no time is the story confusing or unclear. This is not to criticize, merely to comment on the style [there are otherwise intelligent people in my life (Sista) that hate the non-linear style]. Some of the characters in Chocolat appear as minor characters in this book, but you certainly do not need to have seen or read Chocolat to follow the story.

One of the things that impresses me about Harris’s writing is her ability to create atmosphere. She is a master of the ‘show, don’t tell’ theory of writing (which may be why the film of Chocolat works so well – film is all show. Of course, I should probably read the book before talking about how well the book works as a film, huh?). She conjures anger, revulsion, joy and promise without a sour note. You smell and taste her stories as much as you hear them (the three I’ve read/seen have food as an important element of the story – hence their titles). I like how she gives you the details of plants and gardening/farming (since I know nothing about these things) and doesn’t beat you over the head with her theme (not original, but still well-done) that we reap what we sow – call it karma or quantum physics if you like. And of course, one of my personal favorite ideals – we are all responsible for our choices, and every day we can chose something new if we want to change our lives. Simple – yes. Easy – of course not. All of this wrapped up in a package I didn’t want to put down. Lucky for me, I was stuck on a plane to Alaska and had three uninterrupted hours to enjoy it.

Song of the Turtle – edited by Paula Gunn Allen

I was exposed to some wonderful Native American literature in my undergrad literature courses. Louise Erdrich is a favorite (I own all of her novels) and I have enjoyed Sherman Alexie (the film Smoke Signals was based on one of his short stories), Leslie Marmon Silko and others whose names escape me at the moment (this is a blog, not a research paper!). So the short story collection Song of the Turtle was a shoe-in as soon as I laid eyes on it (at the Gresham library). The fact that it was edited by Paula Gunn Allen meant that I was sure to notice it.

I heard Ms. Allen speak at UAA in 1999 or 2000. I was taking Feminist Theory (a fabulous class, again taught by Genie) and immersed in the critical theory coming from the feminist movement. Allen was brought to UAA as a part of Women’s History Month by the Women’s Studies Program (I believe) and I may have gotten class credit for attending – but if I had known how her talk was going to affect me, I would have paid admission. At the time, we were reading some of Catherine Mackinnon’s work in class, and it focused on a lot of negative things – powerful stuff, but not exactly uplifting. Allen was a completely different kettle of fish. She had a way of describing the world that turned my personal worldview on its head. This was a well-respected, professional woman who believed in magic and spoke of it like sewing or cooking – a regular part of life that could be practiced by those willing to put in the effort. And that was exactly what I needed to hear. There are many different paradigms for understanding the world – and Mackinnon’s is no more or less valid than Allen’s. And both had something to offer me.

I think it is that different world view that draws me to the stories like those in Song of the Turtle. The basic assumptions conveyed are not those of the mainstream American culture I find myself living in – and I agree with much of what’s being assumed. Gratitude for life in all its forms. A responsibility to others as well as to ourselves. A quiet appreciation for the ironies of life. It reminds me to be grateful for all that I have, and to laugh along with the universe at the ridiculous events in my life.

This collection is the cream of the crop of American Indian Literature for the last quarter of the twentieth century, so there’s not a dud in the bunch. The settings vary from – historical to modern, rural to urban, and some that have no ‘indians’ in them at all – but all are told with that certain flavor that keeps many of us coming back for more. Some stand-out stories are: Pilgrims by Roxy Gordon, Siobhan La Rue in Color by D. Renville, Compatriots by Emma Lee Warrior and Christianity Comes to the Sioux by Susan Power.

The Darkover series- Marion Zimmer Bradley

I have always been a big reader. I was able to read before I started kindergarten (thanks to an older sister who liked to play school). I can remember being no more than 8 years old and reading my book in bed after lights out (a book about squirrels, at least that’s the picture in my head). As far as individual books, I remember reading Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time sometime in elementary school. That may have been my first real exposure to what became my favorite type of genre fiction – Science Fiction/Fantasy.

I think every reader has a certain type of book that they read more than any other type. And I know some people will only read a certain kind – like true crime or romance novels. And some prefer non-fiction to fiction, long to short novels, one-offs to series fiction and so on. My fall-back has always been sci-fi/fantasy. When I’m looking for something to read that doesn’t require too much from me, I head to the sci-fi section of the bookstore or library. I have all of Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Up until a few years ago, I had read everything Anne McCaffery ever wrote, (starting in seventh grade when I found Dragonsinger in the library). I read the first 11 Xanth books as well as Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality series. Dragonlance, Forgotten Realms, Discworld – all places I’ve visited at one time or another.

Some people (read: snobby literary types) think that genre fiction is junk. Some people read it but consider it a ‘guilty pleasure’ or get defensive about their love for a good bodice-ripper (read: my sister). I’ve never felt a moment of guilt about any book I ever read – including the bad ones I never finished. Anger, disgust, frustration, revulsion maybe – but never guilt. If you enjoy the book and it hasn’t turned you into an axe murderer or a bad parent, then I say READ IT. Reading drivel is better than reading nothing at all, and it sure beats television – at least your crappy mystery novel isn’t regularly interrupted by penile dysfunction treatments or (depending on your household) someone telling you your house isn’t clean enough.

But as I’ve gotten older and wiser – and expanded my reading horizons with dozens of literature classes – I read less and less sci-fi and more high-brow stuff. My standards have gotten higher, and I no longer believe that just because I started a book I have to finish it. Life is too short, and there are too many books in the world that I’ve yet to read for me to waste time on some of the crap that passes for ‘a good read.’ I still read sci-fi, I’m just more particular about the sci-fi I chose. And in the last few years I’ve discovered (not discoverd as in ‘no one else knows about them’ but ‘Bev never read them’) some amazing authors who happened to be considered by the publishing world ‘sci-fi’ authors (Charles de Lint and William Gibson come to mind). Not all sci-fi is created equal.

All of that is by way of saying – after several heavy books, I picked up Thendara House by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Somehow, in my 30 years of sci-fi, I’d never read any of the Darkover series before a few months ago. I recently moved and needed something to read, so Shane – a fellow sci-fi fan – loaned me Heritage of Hastur, Sharra’s Exile, Hawkmistress! & Stormqueen!, all of which I finished in less than two weeks. For those of you have not read of Darkover, it is a planet colonized by a Terran ship that crashed and was lost to the larger Terran Empire for thousands of years – so long they forgot they came from anywhere else. They were rediscovered – of course – and now they are trying to retain their feudal traditions in the face of the high-tech outside world. Oh yeah, and some of the Darkoverans have psychic powers. It’s not a new idea, but it is well-executed and – as is vitally important – the characters are vivid and believable. There is much discussion of tradition vs. progress, another common theme in sci-fi.

I had picked up Thendara House on a trip to Powell’s a few weeks ago and thought it would be the perfect quick read, and it was. In addition to the themes mentioned above, this one focused on the role of women in each society (Terran and Darkoveran) and a group of women who had renounces the traditional Darkoveran female role and formed a society of their own, the Renunciates. Being a sucker for the feminist trope, I thoroughly enjoyed it. TH turned out to be one of a trilogy (the middle one, of course) so I went on a mission to find the others at local used book stores, Goodwill and, finally, Borders (Powell’s being too far from home to squeeze into my work-related errand-running that day). I came home with eight novels (though six were in 3-novel omnibus editions I found at Borders, so that’s kind of cheating. I’m fine with it). I quickly read the other two books featured Magda and the Renunciates (The Shattered Chain & City of Sorcery). I also read The Heirs of Hammerfell.

And now the urge is gone. The problem (for me) at this stage in my reading life is that I clearly see the formula behind the story. Most stories follow a general outline, nothing wrong with that. In fact, readers learn these outlines and come to expect them, especially with genre fiction. But now I am a reader who wants to be challenged and surprised more than comforted by the formula. So after my initial introduction into the world and its characters and settings, I’m bored. I know how the story will end after 20 pages.

Having read four books in as many days, I feel the need for something with a little more meat.

Happenstance – Carol Shields

Last month I read Unless by Carol Shields, so I had her on my mind when I was at Powell’s a few weeks ago. I was on a reconnaissance mission to downtown Portland and Powell’s was my reward for successfully navigating the maze that is the East to West Portland highway system. In the paratext of Unless, it mentioned Happenstance, which is actually two novels – one story told separately from the husband’s and wife’s perspectives. I thought the idea was interesting and made a mental note to keep an eye out for it. Happenstance was one of several Shields novels on Powell’s well-populated shelf, and since it was on sale, it’s the one I brought home. Shields is a Pulitzer-prize-winning (The Stone Diaries) Canadian novelist I first read in my undergrad North American Literature class (we read Swann). She has also been short-listed for the Booker Prize more than once and is often compared to Margaret Atwood – both being Canadian, feminists, contemporaries and accomplished authors.

I have to say that this novel will not be going in my permanent collection. Brenda is a 40-year-old mother of two who has recently stumbled onto a career in quilting. She is off to a crafter’s convention for five days and each part of the novel features those five days she spends away from her family. It is well-written, the characters are compelling and the plot is interesting. But this is a story for a particular time period and perspective that no longer fascinates me. It mostly suffers because I have read most of Atwood’s novels/short stories of the same time period with similar themes, as well as other feminist authors. So the story of a woman who feels as if she missed the feminist movement and sexual revolution because she was having children and being a mom feels tired to me. The husband’s story did not feel as familiar, but felt more like the novelization of the post-modern theme of representation. Jack is an historian and forever examining whether history can ever be accurate since so much of the human experience is never committed to writing. Again, it suffers because I have already read so much on this topic, so nothing new here, either. Published in 1980, it is not surprising that the time-sensitive themes suffer from over-exposure (at least, over-exposed to someone who reads a lot of novels by feminists).

Also, I was expecting the same story from two viewpoints, not just the same five days and how a couple spent their first significant separation. I read Brenda’s story first, so I was expecting to see her husband’s viewpoint of – for instance – their early-morning lovemaking before she boarded the plane. But there were virtually no scenes shared between the two stories, and it was the idea of seeing that kind of writing that originally peaked my interest. Obviously, Shields is not responsible for my erroneous expectations, but I was disappointed nonetheless.

Happenstance also suffers from being compared to her latest novel, Unless. That book made my heart sing when I read it and has a place on my shelf for the foreseeable future. So I had pretty high expectations for Happenstance, and it didn’t live up to them. This is certainly no slam on Shields or even this book. I enjoyed reading it and I’m sure others will, too. It just isn’t something I’m going to want to read again or tell all my friends about (however, all of you should go read Unless right now. I’ll wait). I may send it to my quilter friend, Sheila, she is not the jaded reader I am, and I think the quilting sub-plot would interest her (in fact, it was because of her that I found the quilting discussions interesting – having lived with someone who quilts all the time, I could relate to Brenda’s work). So, to sum up – it’s all my fault I didn’t enjoy this novel as much as I could have.