Sunday, June 30, 2019
Fault Lines: A History of the United States Since 1974
I'm not sure I'm ready for 1974 to be history, because I remember it quite clearly. OK, so I remember t things like learning how to roller skate, starting first grade, and getting a bike for Christmas more than I remember politics (other than Nixon's resignation, which my parents made me watch because it was history - the same parents who kept 6-month-old me awake so I could say I saw Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walk on the moon). As I read Fault Lines, I remembered where I was, or what I was doing when I heard about the events of the last 45 years. The section on Phyllis Schlafly brought back memories of being a tween feminist at a conservative school, and the fall of the Berlin Wall coincided with an all-nighter (history paper and Calculus test). I graduated into the early 90s recession, and a decade later had friends caught up when the dot-com bubble burst. When I watched Barack Obama's 2004 Democratic Convention speech with my dad, he was an obscure Illinois candidate - how can it be that he left the White House over three years ago, and that my dad is gone? Kruse and Zelizer wrote an engaging overview of recent history, although it reads too much like a survey course. I would have liked a deeper analysis and a bit more attention to non-political culture, but that would require 3580 pages, instead of the more practical 358.
The Shakespeare Wars
I need to read more Shakespeare. Maybe then I'll appreciate The Shakespeare Wars more thoroughly. That's not to say it wasn't interesting with my scattershot knowledge of his works, because it was. Ron Rosenbaum started out as an English department grad student but changed to journalism because he didn't quite fit into a department run by one of the acknowledged Bardologists. A few years later, Peter Brook's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream which rekindled his interest. Decades later, Rosenbaum used Shakespeare as a palate cleanser after a particularly grueling assignment and The Shakespeare Wars is the result.
Rosenbaum wanders through the plays, spending a few chapters on the three versions of Hamlet and how different scholars reconcile them. He explores the plays through the eyes of actor Steven Berkoff and director Peter Brook, and explains how attempts to scrub The Merchant of Venice of its anti-Semitism actually makes it more anti-semetic. It's all fascinating, but I felt at times like I hadn't done the required reading.
Thursday, June 13, 2019
Anne Boleyn: A King's Obsession
Alison Weir's second installment in her Six English Queens series presents at technical problem. How can you write a compelling and original novel about whom there's very little reliable documentary evidence but scores of previous fictional portrayals? Weir draws on her previous biographies of Anne and her sister Mary, and fills in the rest with reasonable speculation.
What we do know about Anne is that she was an intelligent woman with ambitious parents. That led to her positions in European courts where she acquired polish, and learned about both courtly love and the new learning from her first mistress, Regent Margaret. her frivolous sister Mary, who joined her when Anne moved to the French court of Henry VIII's sister Mary, did not learn these lessons but still did not deserve to be raped by one king and to become the unwilling mistress of another. Using, in part, her sister's fate, Anne focused on fending off Henry's advances when she came to court as one of Catherine's Maids of Honor
Here Weir departs from the popular, romantic view of Anne's relationship with Henry. As the title says, Henry was obsessed with Anne, and she didn't love him. She held off his advances until, in a particularly manipulative move, Henry explains his theological qualms about his marriage to Catherine and convinces Anne to accept his proposal
As she waits for Henry's annulment, we see Anne change from the well liked lady she'd been to the suspicious, imperious woman who had little support available when she needed it. Elizabeth's birth and a stillborn son leave Henry without the male heir he wants and needs, so he begins to doubt the validity of this marriage as well. Anne becomes desperate, but her vindictive treatment of Catherine and Mary, along with her increasingly imperious behavior, leave her with little support. After two miscarriages, both of male fetuses, Anne finds herself accused of adultery with several men, including her brother George. As Weir outlined in The Lady in the Tower, most of these charges were impossible because Anne and the men in question weren't in the same place at the time of the alleged encounters and because Anne was pregnant or recovering from giving birth during at least half of them. The executioner had already been sent for, though, and it would be a waste not to convict. Weir ends her novel with a few seconds of Anne's final thoughts, where she rightly takes credit for some of Henry's religious reforms. Anne Boleyn proves herself no less compelling than Catherine of Aragon.
What we do know about Anne is that she was an intelligent woman with ambitious parents. That led to her positions in European courts where she acquired polish, and learned about both courtly love and the new learning from her first mistress, Regent Margaret. her frivolous sister Mary, who joined her when Anne moved to the French court of Henry VIII's sister Mary, did not learn these lessons but still did not deserve to be raped by one king and to become the unwilling mistress of another. Using, in part, her sister's fate, Anne focused on fending off Henry's advances when she came to court as one of Catherine's Maids of Honor
Here Weir departs from the popular, romantic view of Anne's relationship with Henry. As the title says, Henry was obsessed with Anne, and she didn't love him. She held off his advances until, in a particularly manipulative move, Henry explains his theological qualms about his marriage to Catherine and convinces Anne to accept his proposal
As she waits for Henry's annulment, we see Anne change from the well liked lady she'd been to the suspicious, imperious woman who had little support available when she needed it. Elizabeth's birth and a stillborn son leave Henry without the male heir he wants and needs, so he begins to doubt the validity of this marriage as well. Anne becomes desperate, but her vindictive treatment of Catherine and Mary, along with her increasingly imperious behavior, leave her with little support. After two miscarriages, both of male fetuses, Anne finds herself accused of adultery with several men, including her brother George. As Weir outlined in The Lady in the Tower, most of these charges were impossible because Anne and the men in question weren't in the same place at the time of the alleged encounters and because Anne was pregnant or recovering from giving birth during at least half of them. The executioner had already been sent for, though, and it would be a waste not to convict. Weir ends her novel with a few seconds of Anne's final thoughts, where she rightly takes credit for some of Henry's religious reforms. Anne Boleyn proves herself no less compelling than Catherine of Aragon.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
The Secret History of Wonder Woman
Im' not a comic book fan (which greatly limits my movie going at the moment). Wonder woman has an extra impediment. I can't erase my memories of the cheesy, cartoon-but-serious Lynda Carter series. My cousin loved it (and would strip down to her Wonder Woman Underoos in public, at least partially to embarrass me), but even at 7 or 8, I was more of an art house movie girl. I also didn't see the connection to feminism.
Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman reclaimed the character's feminist roots, which had been buried since shortly after World War II. Created by William Moulton Marston, a psychologist better at self promotion than keeping a job, Wonder Woman was a strong, independent woman behind the kinky costume and frequent bondage references. He based her on his wives, Sadie Elizabeth Holloway (Betty Marston) and Olive Byrne.
Yes, wives. He was "married" to two women who supported him, Betty Financially and Olive by running the unconventional household. Both were intelligent and educated (Betty met Marston at age 13 and held an LLB and an MA in psychology; Olive was one of his grad students who dropped out of her Ph.D program to raise their children - two by each wife), and yet they spent decades catering to a man who claimed to be a feminist. It makes me wonder (as does Wonder Woman's outfit) how deep his views went, and whether they only existed as much as they could serve his interests.
Everything, though, Marston did was to his advantage, and Lepore's research couldn't untangle all the lies he told about himself. Some stories turned out to be true (he had written a few silent movies), but even then the reasons were unclear (did he need tuition money because his father's business was in trouble, or because he had gambling debts?). Marston's serial failures (businesses that lasted a few months, a decade-long slip down the academic ladder, a fraud conviction) and perpetual self-promotion don't lend themselves to a coherent story and it shows in the first half of the book. People appear and disappear, as I'm sure they did in Marston's life, leading to a disjointed narrative. Lenore's attempts to tie in Margaret Sanger's life (she was Olive's aunt) feel like padding and could have been handled in occasional paragraphs rather than chapters. Lenore also includes Marston's other claim to fame - his "invention" of a lie detector (using only blood pressure), bolstered by (probably) rigged tests gave us the Frye tests which says that scientific evidence hast o be "generally accepted" before it can be used in court. A test which the later invented polygraph fails. To his death, he touted his invention, which, if accurate, he'd never pass.
So what about Wonder Woman? As interesting as Lepore's explanation of her creator's life was, I'd rather read about her history and influence. She was the first, and most lasting, female superhero. In the bro culture that permeates the genre, we need her, and a better book about he.
Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman reclaimed the character's feminist roots, which had been buried since shortly after World War II. Created by William Moulton Marston, a psychologist better at self promotion than keeping a job, Wonder Woman was a strong, independent woman behind the kinky costume and frequent bondage references. He based her on his wives, Sadie Elizabeth Holloway (Betty Marston) and Olive Byrne.
Yes, wives. He was "married" to two women who supported him, Betty Financially and Olive by running the unconventional household. Both were intelligent and educated (Betty met Marston at age 13 and held an LLB and an MA in psychology; Olive was one of his grad students who dropped out of her Ph.D program to raise their children - two by each wife), and yet they spent decades catering to a man who claimed to be a feminist. It makes me wonder (as does Wonder Woman's outfit) how deep his views went, and whether they only existed as much as they could serve his interests.
Everything, though, Marston did was to his advantage, and Lepore's research couldn't untangle all the lies he told about himself. Some stories turned out to be true (he had written a few silent movies), but even then the reasons were unclear (did he need tuition money because his father's business was in trouble, or because he had gambling debts?). Marston's serial failures (businesses that lasted a few months, a decade-long slip down the academic ladder, a fraud conviction) and perpetual self-promotion don't lend themselves to a coherent story and it shows in the first half of the book. People appear and disappear, as I'm sure they did in Marston's life, leading to a disjointed narrative. Lenore's attempts to tie in Margaret Sanger's life (she was Olive's aunt) feel like padding and could have been handled in occasional paragraphs rather than chapters. Lenore also includes Marston's other claim to fame - his "invention" of a lie detector (using only blood pressure), bolstered by (probably) rigged tests gave us the Frye tests which says that scientific evidence hast o be "generally accepted" before it can be used in court. A test which the later invented polygraph fails. To his death, he touted his invention, which, if accurate, he'd never pass.
So what about Wonder Woman? As interesting as Lepore's explanation of her creator's life was, I'd rather read about her history and influence. She was the first, and most lasting, female superhero. In the bro culture that permeates the genre, we need her, and a better book about he.
Monday, June 10, 2019
The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, The Disappearance of Lady Denham)
I held off reading Carrie Bebris's last (?) Mr. and Mrs. Darcy mystery because I'd never read Sanditon. That literary fragment doesn't give much to Bebris other than a setting and some character names, freeing the author to place Lizzie and Darcy in the middle of a cross between a mystery and a screwball comedy, in a setting reminiscent of the house party that inspired Frankenstein.
The Darcys find themselves in Sanditon to investigate a land deal on behalf of Colonel Fitzwilliam. After a few chapters in which we meet the major characters (Mr. Parker's siblings, Lady Denham and her poor relations, a ghost, Charlotte Heywood, Mr. Grenville, and the mysterious Mr. Hollis), the group assemble for a dinner party - but Lady Denham never appears. While a storm rages outside, the group split up in search of their missing hostess...and the single ladies who also disappear one by one. As with Bebris's earlier novels, the mystery is not as good as the novel, but the novel is entertaining. I suspect that she used the mystery as a hook to publish what's essentially well-done Jane Austen fan fiction. I've enjoyed the light, entertaining series, but I'm not particularly sorry that it's now complete.
The Darcys find themselves in Sanditon to investigate a land deal on behalf of Colonel Fitzwilliam. After a few chapters in which we meet the major characters (Mr. Parker's siblings, Lady Denham and her poor relations, a ghost, Charlotte Heywood, Mr. Grenville, and the mysterious Mr. Hollis), the group assemble for a dinner party - but Lady Denham never appears. While a storm rages outside, the group split up in search of their missing hostess...and the single ladies who also disappear one by one. As with Bebris's earlier novels, the mystery is not as good as the novel, but the novel is entertaining. I suspect that she used the mystery as a hook to publish what's essentially well-done Jane Austen fan fiction. I've enjoyed the light, entertaining series, but I'm not particularly sorry that it's now complete.
No More Dying Then
Ruth Rendell's Wexford novels are a bit like Law & Order - not particularly interested in the characters' personal lives, but over the course of the series, you realize you know them fairly well. Before 1971's No More Dying Then, Wexford's partner Mike Burden was a by-the-book, somewhat prudish policeman. Unlike his superior, he's not a reader and Wexford's literary allusions are lost on him. Like Wexford, he was happily married with two children.
The Burden we meet in No More Dying Then is a changed man. As the desk sergeant says in the opening chapter, Jean Burden had been healthy a year earlier and dead by Christmas. In the intervening 10 months, Burden had a near-breakdown and then buried himself in his work, ignoring his pre-teen children and taking Jean's sister Grace, who'd taken a leave of a absence from her nursing career to help out, for granted.
When 5-year-old John Lawrence disappears, Burden disapprovingly interviews his mother. She's a single mother and former bit-part actress, but more than that, she's wearing patchwork dresses and long hair and wrapping herself in shawls. In other words, she doesn't look totally unlike my vague 1971 memories of my grad-student mother. while Burden becomes too enmeshed in Mrs. Lawernce's life, Wexford tries to find a link between John Lawrence's disappearance and that of Stella Rivers. Wexford can't get past his suspicions of Stella's stepfather, Ivor Swan. Information from local criminal Monkey Matthews leaves Wexford to an unexpected solution while Burden solves his case through a forgivable coincidence. I'm looking foraged to the next Wexford novel, not just because Rendell creates intriguing quizzes, but because I want to know what comes next for Mike Burden.
The Burden we meet in No More Dying Then is a changed man. As the desk sergeant says in the opening chapter, Jean Burden had been healthy a year earlier and dead by Christmas. In the intervening 10 months, Burden had a near-breakdown and then buried himself in his work, ignoring his pre-teen children and taking Jean's sister Grace, who'd taken a leave of a absence from her nursing career to help out, for granted.
When 5-year-old John Lawrence disappears, Burden disapprovingly interviews his mother. She's a single mother and former bit-part actress, but more than that, she's wearing patchwork dresses and long hair and wrapping herself in shawls. In other words, she doesn't look totally unlike my vague 1971 memories of my grad-student mother. while Burden becomes too enmeshed in Mrs. Lawernce's life, Wexford tries to find a link between John Lawrence's disappearance and that of Stella Rivers. Wexford can't get past his suspicions of Stella's stepfather, Ivor Swan. Information from local criminal Monkey Matthews leaves Wexford to an unexpected solution while Burden solves his case through a forgivable coincidence. I'm looking foraged to the next Wexford novel, not just because Rendell creates intriguing quizzes, but because I want to know what comes next for Mike Burden.
Sunday, June 2, 2019
The Good Girls' Revolt
We've made progress since 1970, but how much. 40 years after female "researches" sued Newsweek for employment discrimination, the hard sexism of job restrictions (Seven Sisters educated women with reporting experience stuck in jobs as fact checkers for Ivy League men with no experience) was replaced with the soft sexism of frat boy patter. In 2010, three young Newsweek reporters, Jessica Bennett, Jesse Ellison,and Sarah Bell were fed up with having to fight for what was handed to their male colleagues, and putting up with broism on top of it. so they wrote about their experiences for Newsweek, and while researching, found out that 40 years earlier, 46 women sued the magazine for workplace discrimination.
Lynne Povich was one of those women. Although her father was a reporter (Shirly Povich, legendary sports columnist for the Washington Post), she'd never thought about being a writer. She just wanted to live in France, and a secretarial job with Newsweek's Paris bureau was how she could achieve that. After two years, she landed in New York City,, where women (some of them later famous, including Nora Ephron and Jane Bryant Quinn) collected clippings and checked facts for men who got bylines. It was tradition, and by 19645 it was illegal.
Led by Judy Gingold, Margaret Montague, and Lucy Howard, the group grew through ladies' room conversations and lunches at The Women's Exchange. On the day Newsweek published a cover story (written by an external writer because Povich was one of only two women writers, and neither had the experience for a cover story) on the women's movement, the 46 women filed their suit. ACLU attorney Eleanor Holmes Norton negotiated a settlement, but two years later, all that had happened was there were men in the research department and a few women and been set up to fail in their trials as writers. Since Holmes Norton was now on the New York Human Rights Division, the women turned to Harrie Rabb and the employment clinic at Columbia University. This time, they won lasting concessions which led to, among other things, Povich becoming the first female editor at Newsweek and Eleanor Clift the first woman to cover the White House for a major news organization. Not all of the women became writers or remained in the media, but those who did (and those who didn't) opened the door a crack.
Lynne Povich was one of those women. Although her father was a reporter (Shirly Povich, legendary sports columnist for the Washington Post), she'd never thought about being a writer. She just wanted to live in France, and a secretarial job with Newsweek's Paris bureau was how she could achieve that. After two years, she landed in New York City,, where women (some of them later famous, including Nora Ephron and Jane Bryant Quinn) collected clippings and checked facts for men who got bylines. It was tradition, and by 19645 it was illegal.
Led by Judy Gingold, Margaret Montague, and Lucy Howard, the group grew through ladies' room conversations and lunches at The Women's Exchange. On the day Newsweek published a cover story (written by an external writer because Povich was one of only two women writers, and neither had the experience for a cover story) on the women's movement, the 46 women filed their suit. ACLU attorney Eleanor Holmes Norton negotiated a settlement, but two years later, all that had happened was there were men in the research department and a few women and been set up to fail in their trials as writers. Since Holmes Norton was now on the New York Human Rights Division, the women turned to Harrie Rabb and the employment clinic at Columbia University. This time, they won lasting concessions which led to, among other things, Povich becoming the first female editor at Newsweek and Eleanor Clift the first woman to cover the White House for a major news organization. Not all of the women became writers or remained in the media, but those who did (and those who didn't) opened the door a crack.
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