Tuesday, May 12, 2026

Flower Drum Song - David Henry Hwang revision (East West Players)

To celebrate my wife’s birthday, we took a day trip down to Los Angeles. She has always been a big Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, but many of the lesser-known musicals are rarely on stage. 

 

There are a few reasons for this. The key issue in many cases is the book. (Or, if you are an old-school classical musician, the libretto…) 

 

The problems tend to fall into two categories. First is simply that many librettos were written - and indeed exist - as a mere vehicle for the songs. This is true of some operas as well - Cosi Fan Tutte has to be one of the silliest (and sexist) things ever written, but Mozart’s dazzling music means opera companies find ways of putting it on stage. For many older musicals, a story of the usual comedy sort is cobbled together: girl and guy meet cute, fall in love, are separated by misunderstanding, but overcome the obstacles to be together. Repeat as many times as you need.

 

The other flaw, though, is a bit harder to overcome. The societal attitudes have changed since many of these works were written, and elements haven’t aged well. This is particularly the case with musicals written by white people about brown people. Porgy and Bess may have been revolutionary in casting African Americans at the time, but some stereotypes are winceworthy now. 

 

The same thing is the case with Flower Drum Song. At the time, writing a musical entirely about Chinese immigrants was bold and even progressive. But at the same time, story elements contain stereotypes about “exotic” foreigners that are dated or worse. 

 

There have been various revisions made to the script by different editors over time, ranging from slight adjustments to complete rewrites of the story. 

 

Going into this one, I had never seen the play or movie. My experience was limited to playing a Rodgers and Hammerstein song medley - pops concerts often use these sorts of things as crowd-pleasers. Oh, and also, my wife dances around the house singing Broadway tunes, so I was plenty familiar with “I Enjoying Being a Girl.”

 

But other than that, no expectations. 

 

East West Players is the longest-running Asian-American theater in the US, and has a history of putting a new spin on old classics. A couple years ago, for example, we went and saw their production of Pacific Overtures. That is another story that certainly feels different as interpreted by Asian-Americans. 

 

For this production, David Henry Hwang, who previously adapted this musical 20ish years ago, wrote a new version of the script. 

 

After we watched it, my wife pulled up an online summary of the original, and we compared the changes. They were pretty extensive. It isn’t exactly a completely different story, but it isn’t the same either. Considering that the original musical is based on a book by a Chinese-American author, and takes considerable liberties with that plot, I can’t really complain. Essentially, there are three different works, with different central ideas to convey. 

 

I won’t recount the plot of either of the originals - you can check out the Wikipedia summaries if you want. 

 

The version we saw mostly matches the 2002 Hwang revision, but with some updates. 

 

I think the primary revision is the elimination of the “mail order bride” and arranged marriage as the center of the Ta and Mei-Li romance. (Which, by the way, isn’t the center of the original book.) I can see why this was done. One of the unfair ways white people have stereotyped “exotic” cultures has been to focus on arranged marriages. Perhaps forgetting that marriage for love and personal fulfillment is a relatively recent development in white culture as well.

 

[For that matter, I would wager there are more arranged marriages among fundamentalist white people here in the US than among immigrants. You would be surprised.] 

 

The Cute Couple...

There are also omitted characters (the father is barely on stage at all), and added characters (Harvard, kind of a mashup of the comedian friend and the seamstress - and a hilarious and endearing tribute to queer theater people), and a lot less in the way of plot complexity. (The whole voidable marriage contract feels a lot more Anthony Trollope than music theater, honestly.) 

 

Singing about Chop Suey... 

What is retained in the new version is the question of assimilation. What does it mean to be culturally Chinese? What does it mean to be an American? 

 

This plays out, not among racist white people like Stephen Miller, for whom white skin is what it means to be American, but among the Chinese-American population in San Francisco’s Chinatown. 

 

There is the difference between those “just off the boat” and those who have been in America for decades. And between the first generation immigrants and their American-born children. 

 

Inseparable from this question is how one assimilates. Does this mean trying to “act white” and abandoning one’s culture? Does it mean playing up stereotypes to make money from white audiences? 

 

Who is an American anyway?

 

I was raised in a mostly minority neighborhood, with a lot of immigrants, documented and undocumented. For me, America feels like diversity. It is an idea, not an ethnicity. 

 

This clearly puts me at odds with a lot of white Americans these days, unfortunately. Including extended family. 

 

It was refreshing to see performances like this, where it is asserted - quite correctly - that Asian-Americans are as American as any other. At the end of the play, each actor told where they were born: most were born here in the US, with a few born overseas. But Americans one and all. 

 Harvard and company...

East West is a professional company, and its productions are always well performed. This was no exception, with signing, dancing, and acting that was everything it should have been. There also were an absurd number of costume changes, with everything from traditional Chinese opera to burlesque. 

 

Sets were relatively modest, probably related to the limited infrastructure for the theater - I don’t think it had a full fly far enough forward to drop stuff where they might have wanted, and there was no traditional curtain. The orchestra was in the back of the stage, and appeared visible for some of the scenes, which was a nice touch. 

 

I had a good time, but I suspect that those who grew up on the movie might take issue with the significant plot changes. It is a different story with the same songs, and how you feel about that may vary. 

 

As an assertion of American identity for immigrants, as an exploration of generational differences, as a look at the immigrant experience from inside - it succeeds well in my opinion. 

 

I believe this show runs through the end of the month, so if you are in the Los Angeles area, you might check it out. (And get some delicious food while you are in Little Tokyo.) 




Monday, May 11, 2026

Blanche on the Lam by Barbara Neely

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

Recently, I ran across a reference to Barbara Neely and her books, and made a note to give one a try. After all, I am a fan of murder mysteries, and these seemed like a unique take on the genre. 


Barbara Neely was an African-American author and activist, with a fascinating life story. 

 

She grew up in Pennsylvania, in an area where there were still a lot of “Pennsylvania Dutch” people - a subculture of German dialect speakers with a significant Mennonite and Amish numbers, although Lutherans are also represented. 

 

This meant that she was not only the only black kid at her private school, she was the only child fluent in English. Yeah, that’s a bit unique. 

 

As an adult, she obtained her masters degree at University of Pittsburg, then became involved in local activism and non-profit work. Among these were directing a branch of the YWCA, and managing groups related to housing, reproductive healthcare access, and rehabilitation of former inmates. 

 

She started writing at this time, but didn’t have a breakthrough until age 50, with Blanche on the Lam. She would go on to write three more Blanche books that decade. 

 

Describing this book is a bit difficult, because it is several things all at once. It is a murder mystery - with a good plot, and a surprising amount of humor to go with the suspense. It is a satire that lampoons rich southern white people, with a really razor edge. It is a commentary on racism in America, from biased policing to the casual dehumanization and infantilization inflicted on black people - particularly black women - in our country. It is a pointed look at marginalization through the perspective of a young man with Down Syndrome. It also examines the way white women are able to use their gender to get away with figurative - and sometimes literal - murder. 

 

So yes, it definitely has some preachy moments about race - we are inside the head of the protagonist, Blanche White (yeah, the name is played for a few jokes too), as she endures the experience of being a black female domestic worker for rich, entitled white people. And she is plenty salty about it, although rarely out loud. 

 

But the fun story and the delicious humor make it go down pretty pleasantly. 

 

I would also say that, particularly for 35 years ago, the idea of a protagonist in a murder mystery being not merely black, but also low-income, “traditionally built,” and thoroughly aware of the toxic racial dynamics of the modern south. It’s a bold choice of character in a way, but also thoroughly believable and consistent. Neely writes of what she knows, I suspect: being assumed to be stupid and lazy simply because of skin color. 

 

The title comes from the opening of the story. Blanche, like many in our country, but especially the low income workers, often female, who have unstable employment conditions, has fallen behind. As a result, she has had a check bounce, and is prosecuted for it. Because she has bounced a check before, an unsympathetic judge sentences her to jail time. 

 

But before she can serve it, a disturbance related to a corrupt politician whose case is in the courthouse at the same time, allows her to quietly slip out and go on the lam. 

 

She ends up taking a job working for a rich white family with political connections, and spends a week at their summer house, where, well, things happen. 

 

There is the childless married couple, Grace and Everett. There is Aunt Emmeline, Grace’s aunt, who has the money in the family. And there is Mumsfield, Grace’s cousin, who has Down Syndrome, but is also a skilled mechanic and more observant than his relatives realize. 

 

About half the book goes by before we have the first body - the sheriff, who is pretty horrible, has an argument with Everett, and then winds up dead in what is officially called a suicide. 

 

Once things get going, though, the bodies start piling up, and things get tense really fast. 

 

I won’t get into the plot any more than that - you will have to read it yourself. 

 

The books were written in the 1990s, but have apparently had a bit of a revival. The entire series was recorded as audiobooks in 2017, so I should be able to listen to them all eventually. 

 

The narrator is Lisa Renee Pitts, who has been on large and small screens, with award-winning results. I thought she did a great job on this audiobook, bringing out all the different Southern accents, character voices, and nuances of the text. Her work definitely contributes to the experience of the novel. 

 

Thursday, May 7, 2026

In the Western Night and The First Hour of the Night by Frank Bidart

Source of book: I own this

 

I think it may have been one of my local literary friends of my parents’ generation who first suggested I read Frank Bidart. He is, after all, one of the true luminaries to come out of Bakersfield - he won the Pulitzer for his anthology, Half Light, which is the collection that I own of his. (I collect used hardbacks like a true hoarder…) 

 

Bidart is a living poet (although he is in his 80s now), with a career that now spans seven decades. He is also gay, and that fact both informs his writing and links him with others in a specific American poetic tradition. (I’ll note Richard Howard as a contemporary, whose poems are often explicitly gay. He and Bidart both utilized the Dramatic Monologue often in their poems.)  

 

So, what is a cishet guy like me interested in LGBTQ poets for anyway? Well, in the more intellectual sense, I have made a point of reading LGBTQ authors, because I believe that what is best in culture often arises from marginalized groups. The role of African Americans in American culture, for example, is crucial and unmistakable. Throughout history, LGBTQ people have thrived in the arts, and have created many of our most beloved works, from Messiah on down. 

 

But perhaps more to the point, at an emotional level, I find that poetry by LGBTQ authors resonates for me. Not in a sexual-orientation way, but in a more universal human way, just like the music of gay composers often speaks to me deeply. (Related: I think lesbian and bisexual women write the best sex scenes in literature, while straight men write the worst.) 

 

The poems are just really good, and love is love, so to speak. In this post, I will feature a few breathtaking lines that I think can represent heterosexual love as perfectly as homosexual love. 

 

In the case of Frank Bidart, I found his writing to be truly wonderful, and his often-unusual techniques to be effective in communicating his meaning beyond the mere words.

 

I ended up picking a pair of collections to read this time, because neither was that long. There are two things that link them together: the word “night” in the titles, and the fact that they were both published in 1990. Arbitrary? Perhaps. But it worked. 

 

The first poem I want to look at is “To the Dead,” from In the Western Night, which utilizes a number of Bidart’s common techniques and styles. He uses ALL CAPS liberally, but not constantly, so it doesn’t feel like yelling as much as it does a slightly stronger italics (which he also uses.) This poem also contains one of the most incredible lines I have ever read. 

 

To the Dead

 

What I hope (when I hope) is that we'll

see each other again,--

 

. . . and again reach the VEIN

 

in which we loved each other . .

It existed. It existed.

 

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

 

. . . for, like the detectives (the Ritz Brothers)

in The Gorilla,

 

once we'd been battered by the gorilla

 

we searched the walls, the intricately carved

impenetrable paneling

 

for a button, lever, latch

 

that unlocks a secret door that

reveals at last the secret chambers,

 

CORRIDORS within WALLS,

 

(the disenthralling, necessary, dreamed structure

beneath the structure we see,)

 

that is the HOUSE within the HOUSE . . .

 

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

 

. . . there were (for example) months when I seemed only

to displease, frustrate,

 

disappoint you--; then, something triggered

 

a drunk lasting for days, and as you

slowly and shakily sobered up,

 

sick, throbbing with remorse and self-loathing,

 

insight like ashes: clung

to; useless; hated . . .

 

This was the viewing of the power of the waters

 

while the waters were asleep:--

secrets, histories of loves, betrayals, double-binds

 

not fit (you thought) for the light of day . . .

 

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

 

. . . for, there at times at night, still we

inhabit the secret place together . . .

 

Is this wisdom, or self-pity?--

 

The love I've known is the love of

two people staring

 

not at each other, but in the same direction.

 

Just read those last three lines again. 

 

The love I've known is the love of

two people staring

 

not at each other, but in the same direction.

 

Good lord those are amazing. The poem apparently was directed, not at a single person, but at all of the friends and family Bidart had lost. 

 

This next one is explicitly homoerotic, but again, it speaks of universal love, of death, of fear, and of transcendence. It is subtitled (John of the Cross), which is a fascinating reference. From what I can tell, the poem itself is loosely based on St. John of the Cross’ poem of the same name (more commonly called “Dark Night of the Soul,” which is actually St. John’s commentary on the poem. 

 

Bidart takes some definite liberties with the poem - even more than those necessary for translation - while preserving the basic ideas. 

 

Also fascinating here is that John of the Cross is believed to have been gay himself, and his work combines spirituality and homoeroticism much like Bidart would centuries later. 

 

The poem is worth reproducing here:

 

Dark Night

(John of the Cross)    

 

In a dark night, when the light

    burning was the burning of love (fortuitous

    night, fated, free,--)

    as I stole from my dark house, dark

    house that was silent, grave, sleeping,--

    

 by the staircase that was secret, hidden,

    safe: disguised by darkness (fortuitous

    night, fated, free,--)

    by darkness and by cunning, dark

    house that was silent, grave, sleeping--;

    

 in that sweet night, secret, seen by

    no one and seeing

    nothing, my only light or

    guide

    the burning in my burning heart,

    

 night was the guide

    to the place where he for whom I

    waited, whom I had long ago chosen,

    waits: night

    brighter than noon, in which none can see--;

    

night was the guide

    sweeter than the sun raw at

    dawn, for there the burning bridegroom is

    bride

    and he who chose at last is chosen.

 

            *

                                   

As he lay sleeping on my sleepless

    breast, kept from the beginning for him

    alone, lying on the gift I gave

    as the restless

    fragrant cedars moved the restless winds,--

    

winds from the circling parapet circling

    us as I lay there touching and lifting his hair,--

    with his sovereign hand, he

    wounded my neck-

    and my senses, when they touched that, touched nothing...

           

In a dark night (there where I

    lost myself,--) as I leaned to rest

            in his smooth white breast, everything

            ceased

            and left me, forgotten in the grave of forgotten lilies.

           

The title poem of the collection has several sections. One in particular stood out to me.

 

In the Western Night

3. Two Men

 

The man who does not know himself, who

does not know his affections that his actions

 

speak but that he does not

acknowledge,

 

                    who will SAY ANYTHING

 

and lie when he does not know that he is

lying because what he needs to believe is true

 

must indeed

be true,

 

            THIS MAN IS STONE ... NOT BREAD.

 

STONE. NOT CAKE. NOT CHEESE. NOT BREAD ...

 

The man who tries to feed his hunger

by gnawing stone

 

                        is a FOOL; his hunger is

 

fed in ways that he knows cannot satisfy it. 

 

That is quite the picture of fundamentalism in action. When a perceived theological need is more important than reality.

 

Before moving on to the second book, I want to note some lines from “In the Ruins.”

 

1. Man is a MORAL animal.

2. You can get human beings to do anything, - IF

you can convince them it is moral.

3. You can convince human beings anything is moral.

 

Moving on to the second book, The First Hour of the Night. Interestingly, the title poem (which is at the end of the collection, and makes up about two-thirds of it, is also connected to poems written later. “The Second Hour of the Night” is found in the 1997 collection, Desire; “The Third Hour of the Night” made its way into 2005’s Stardust. “The Fourth Hour of the Night” is in his final collection (so far), Thirst, from 2016. I haven’t yet read the other “hours,” but will quote a few lines from the first one. All of them are long poems, and could qualify as dramatic monologues. 

 

Before I get to that, however, there is shorter poem I want to mention:

 

Long and Short Lines

 

You who call me to weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe, -

. . . mock me

 

with you -

 

hypocrisy’s thirst somewhere if you’re anywhere must

now make you again pave someone’s road to hell.

 

Toward that design cut long ago by your several divided nature

and mine,

 

. . . learn I too

twist, unchanged.

 

The use of line length is effective, and the metaphors are worth thinking about. I am particularly haunted by the idea of hypocrisy paving someone else’s road to hell. Ouch. And true. 

 

The rest of these are all from “The First Hour of the Night.” As I noted, it is a dramatic monologue, somewhat rambling, and very personal. It’s a beautiful read, particularly out loud. Also far too long to reproduce, so I am just going to highlight my favorite phrases. The poem starts off describing this scene where the narrator returns to the home of an older friend who has died, and talks with the son, who feels that he will never be at home in this ancient, inherited estate. From there, it goes a number of fascinating philosophical and poetical directions. 

 

-- Then I know that each object that father

chose for this house, but absent now from it

                                                says that everything ever

 

unresolved clearly FOREVER

is unresolvable between us.

 

There is another scene with philosophers, past and present, arguing with each other. 

 

From this milling, mercurial crowd

                                                (-- Hegel now looked

at one moment like 

Bismarck, at another like Shelley--)

 

words emerge:--

 

                        Master and Slave. Predestination. Preservation of 

the Species. God immanent in

Nature. Race. Blood.

                                    Stages of absolute mind. Progress. Class.

The inexorable laws of History, the Psyche, the Age.

                                                                        Logos. The world

as will and idea. The One. The inescapable

society of the dead and the living, who have made us what we are. . .

 

And the way the narrator eventually freaks out at this nightmare: 

 

III

 

Then I wanted to shout at this destruction, this

ruin, not only

 

in pain, but in relief:--

 

                                    Whenever human beings have felt

conviction that what they possess is indeed

 

‘KNOWLEDGE OF THE CAUSES OF THINGS,’--

 

. . . whenever this conviction has been

shared by, animated a whole

society, or significant group within society,--

the ancient hegemony of POWER and PRIESTHOOD

is reconstituted:--

 

                                    implicit within each

vision of cause, a structure of power:--

 

                                    an imagination not only of 

where power resides, but should, must reside. . .

 

That’s powerful stuff. What an insight. Related to that is another passage:

 

The ‘moral law within’

                       

                                    (for Kant, the ground

of the moral life itself, certain, beautiful, fixed

like the processional of stars above our heads)

 

is near to MADNESS--; everything terrible

but buried in human motivation

                                    Released, justified

 

by self-righteousness and fanaticism. . .

 

There are none so cruel as those who believe they speak for Almighty God…

 

I have a lot more Bidart to read from my collection, but what I did read was quite good. I look forward to future exploration. 



Wednesday, May 6, 2026

Chasing Manet by Tina Howe (BCT 2026)

This is one of those plays that I went to see in significant part because I had a bunch of friends in it. True, they are friends who are also good actors. Or, in one case, the director. 

 

In this case, the play itself sounded interesting as well. There are no end of plays about young lovers, or kings. But not too many are about ordinary people ravaged by age, frailty, and dementia. 

 

First, though, a bit about the author. I suppose I was vaguely aware of Tina Howe in the back of my mind, but I had never seen one of her plays. They have won or been shortlisted for a number of awards, and a few of the names are fairly familiar, although, oddly enough, not Chasing Manet. She also taught and served on the Dramatists Guild. 

 

I did a bit of reading about her, and discovered some facts of interest. She came from a family of notable writers. Her grandfather, Mark Antony Howe, won a Pulitzer for biography in 1925, and wrote over 50 books. With a name like that, I guess. Her uncle, Mark DeWolfe Howe, clerked for Supreme Court justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. - and later wrote his biography, a book I heard about in law school. Her father Quincy Howe wrote for television and radio news for CBS and ABC, and also wrote a three volume work on history. So quite a pedigree. 

 

Also of interest is the fact that she was named Mabel, but referred to as Tina since childhood. She changed her name legally when she turned eighteen. 

 

One thing I did not know about her was that she was married to historian and writer Norman Levy. And this wasn’t a brief marriage - it lasted over 60 years until his death soon before hers. 

 

So, about the play itself. 

 

What can you say to describe a play that is both hilarious and disturbingly real to life? Howe wrote the play fairly late in life, and presumably after life experience with aging relatives. And it shows. The portrayals of nursing home residents are so spot-on. 

 

Both my wife and I have worked with seniors our entire careers. She as a nurse, and me as an attorney. Dementia is our bread and butter, so to speak. For me, the life progress from retirement to frailty to dementia - and often to institutionalization - is where much of my practice lies. I help clients plan their estates, but also assist in applying for Medicaid benefits for nursing home care, and finding other placement options when people are no longer able to live safely on their own. 

 

In a sense, the play hit way too close to home. (And that’s before you get into the various people in my life who are on that continuum of end of life and functionality - it’s heartbreaking.) 

 

Howe, though, manages to make all of this incredibly humorous, even if you feel icky for laughing. She doesn’t do it through humor that punches down either. There is a gentle satire of the aging, but much more pointed satire of how younger, healthier people react to aging and dementia. 

 

None of us plan to end our lives in a nursing home. Indeed, none of us really plan to get old and frail and lose our faculties and memories. And none of us really plan to die, even though we know we will. 

 

So this play is a hard look at our own denialism, our own whistling past the ol’ nursing home on the way to the grave. 

 

The story itself centers around two elderly residents of the Mount Airy Nursing Home. Cathy is the rare (and unfortunate) resident whose brain still works well, but who has physical issues that prevent her from safely living alone. She has gone legally blind, and, since she was a professional painter before that, this loss leaves her depressed and angry. 

 

Her roommate, Rennie, has progressively lost touch with reality after the death of her husband, who she still thinks is alive. She talks to him, argues with him, and complains to him. This drives Cathy nuts, until she realizes that Rennie has just enough brains and chutzpah to be a co-conspirator in an escape attempt. 

 

And why not dream big? So they plan an escape to Paris, to see Cathy’s favorite Manet painting

 

Along the way, there are great scenes involving Rennie’s eccentric large family, Cathy’s uptight and frustrated son (the two of them are pretty horrible to each other - and it is clearly a lifelong thing…), and the other residents of the nursing home. 

 

Will they or won’t they succeed? Will Cathy implode from excessive sarcasm? Will Rennie give away the plot? 

 

I very much enjoyed this production. Cathy Henry, my wife’s knitting guild friend, who taught drama for decades in local high schools, was the director, and I really think she has done an outstanding job on every play she has directed. In this case, there was a coherent vision, memorable characters made real by the actors, and intriguing decisions about staging. 

 

This is the kind of play that can’t just be played straight off the page. The characters don’t play themselves - they have to be brought to life in every detail - tone of voice, gesture, pacing, body language, emotion. Getting these real and true to life is a challenge, and the actors in this case really stepped up.

 

First, Laurie Howlett as Cathy was superb. She has been in a lot of local productions, although the one role I really remember was as the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz several years ago. In this one, she was furious, conniving, depressed, and always owned the scene. 

 

Opposite her was Julie Gaines, as Rennie. Regular readers of this blog will know that Julie is in everything, and is excellent in everything. This was no exception. Although it was startling to see her in the particular grey wig this time, it was even more startling to see her bend her face perfectly to get the character right. The childish surprise and sweetness that certain people with dementia display as they partly revert to the past was as good as it could be. She was the character. 

 Rennie (Julie Gaines) and Cathy (Laurie Howlett)

The supporting cast, in a variety of roles, larger and smaller, was great. I will particularly note a few friends. Josh Evans, as Cathy’s son Royal, brought that particular frustration of being a browbeaten adult child, trying to be a good son, but endlessly frustrated. He clearly knows he would go insane in a handbasket if he tried to take his mother home. And she would hate it just as much as she does the nursing home. So, more often than not, everything ends badly. 

 

Sofia Reyes as Iris didn’t get a lot of spoken lines, but she (along with another actor) were often on stage in the background, and needed to kill time. 

 Iris (Sofia Reyes) - center

Let me explain this one: the costume changes are written in a way that leaves some time gaps, particularly for a low-budget community theater that depends on volunteers. Enough money can get you faster changes, but…

 

So, the solution was that various residents, usually including Iris, on stage in the “hall” part of the home. Without much spoken, they had to hold interest with gesture. And this is where Sofia really did some fine work. The character lives in her own world much of the time, and we got to see that through the gestures and facial expressions during these silences. Watching this was fascinating. 

 

I will also express my appreciation for the set, which was very simple and sparse - in part so that the characters could maneuver their wheelchairs around - harder than it looks. And also, because of the institutional vibe of nursing homes, where utility matters more than style. 

 

A particularly lovely touch was the “wallpaper,” vaguely impressionist, and lovingly painted under the direction of Roger Upton, who claims to have retired from stage and costume design, but turns out to be a bald-faced liar. 

 Rennie and her boisterous family...

I know I am missing things I wanted to mention, but I’ll remember them tomorrow or something. In any case, it was a good production, and a thoughtful look at the ends of our lives. 

 

Unfortunately, this show has run its course - I caught the last weekend. But there will be more. Our local theater scene has a lot going on. You can check out what is coming up next at Bakersfield Community Theater on their website, or follow them on your preferred social media. 

 

Tuesday, May 5, 2026

Invisible Women by Caroline Perez

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

 

This book is in many ways really depressing. And it is particularly difficult to read in our current time, when the misogynist class controls our government, and is actively working to roll back human and civil rights for women, erase them from positions of power and influence, and reverse the progress that has been made in the collection of useful data necessary to better their lives. The fact that I - and my children - have to live through this stupid, evil time, is infuriating.

 

And I am a white cishet male. I can’t imagine how horrifying this is for women. The best I can do is to try to be a better male human than we males have all too often been and continue to be. 


Anyway, the book focuses on the issue of data. In order to make informed decisions about a great many things, we need good data. 

 

The problem is, we have, for most of the scientific era, treated males as the default human. Which means that we work off of data about males, ignoring the often very different effects on women. This book works through a number of particular areas that this applies, from bathroom planning to workplace issues, to the design of everything from protective equipment to vehicles to bus routes, to medicine and drugs, to how we calculate GDP, to disaster response. And a bunch more. 

 

Of necessity, the book looks a lot at sexism generally and violence against women, because these are tied up with the general problem of seeing males as the human default, and women as "aberrant" humans, a departure from the norm. 

 

A truly just - and indeed a better world for all - requires that we not view half of the human population as “aberrant” and instead involve women fully in the decisions made in all areas of life. 

 

To try to get into all of the details is beyond the scope of this post. What I will note is that the book is well supported by evidence - and by the lack of evidence - the lack of data - that is a significant hindrance to doing better. There are a number of passages that are worth highlighting, with the understanding that the entire context is needed in many cases to understand the full scope of the problem and the needed solutions. 

 

I will start with the Simone de Beauvoir quote that the author uses as the introduction. 

 

“Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth.” 

 

The preface to the book highlights some of the themes of the book. 

 

The female-specific concerns that men fail to factor in cover a wide variety of areas, but as you read you will notice that three themes crop up again and again: the female body, women’s unpaid care burden, and male violence against women. 

 

As the author notes, men do not have female bodies, do a fraction of the unpaid work women do, and do not generally experience the same kind of gendered violence women do. Thus, it is easy to forget and ignore. 

 

The author also notes that the issue isn’t so much sex - but gender. 

 

But although I talk about both sex and gender throughout, I use gender gap as an overarching term because sex is not the reason women are excluded from data. Gender is. In naming the phenomenon that is causing so much damage to so many women’s lives, I want to be clear about the root cause and, contrary to many claims you will read in these pages, the female body is not the problem. The problem is the social meaning that we ascribe to that body, and a socially determined failure to account for it. 

 

It is truly bizarre how much the male is considered the “default” human. In one relatively mundane example, women use emojis at higher rates than men, specific emojis for activities and occupations have almost exclusively been male in presentation unless designated female. This (finally!) changed in 2016, when Unicode chose to append gender markers to all emojis that depicted humans. The code is now for “male” and “female” people, not “human” as male. 

 

The thing is, most of us tend to do this subconsciously. The book spends a good bit of time looking at the research that most people - women included - tend to gender things, and to default to male. 

 

A couple of other examples of the bias: sports reporters regularly saying a man had accomplished some feat “for the first time,” failing to remember that a woman had done it already more than once. (Same for women’s teams - the USWNT has won a whole bunch of World Cup titles, while the men’s team hasn’t.) 

 

Second, the fact that it took until the 13th incarnation before Doctor Who became a woman. (For what it’s worth, I love Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor - she captures the essence of the character.) And, naturally, a bunch of people lost their shit about it.

 

The book also mentions the way that male children tend to prefer male protagonists and be uninterested in female ones, while female children enjoy protagonists of either gender. There is certainly enough evidence of this, but I will note that I, for one, enjoyed and continue to enjoy female protagonists. From Nancy Drew to Anne of Green Gables, to Harriet the Spy, I actually was drawn to strong female characters, and sought out books about them. Perhaps that was a foreshadowing of my adult reading and blogging habits.

 

Perhaps most socially damaging, however, is the way that male identity politics (like white identity politics) aren’t recognized and correctly described. 

 

Because this perspective is not articulated as white and male (because it doesn’t need to be), because it is the norm, it is presumed not to be subjective. It is presumed to be objective. Universal even. This presumption is unsound. The truth is that white and male is just as much an identity as black and female. 

 

And yes, white male identity politics is what got Trump elected, and we need to be clear about that. 

 

I found the chapter on infrastructure to be fascinating. For a variety of reasons, my own marriage has been far more egalitarian than most - as of right now, my wife out-earns me, and works longer hours, so I have had to take more of a role in child transport and other unpaid labor than most men ever experience. 

 

Thus, the idea of trip-linking, of the question of trips that are not just home-to-work and back, is quite familiar. 

 

The book talks about a case in Sweden, where the snow-clearing schedule was unconsciously biased toward men. Routes to and from work were cleared first, and pedestrian and public transit were given last priority. 

 

However, when the city of Karlskoga decided to prioritize the kinds of travel women did - and get the snow and ice off of pedestrian routes and public transit - they found something curious. Not only did it not cost more, it ended up saving significant money. Why? Because injuries to pedestrians - a majority of whom were women - went down dramatically, thus saving hospital costs. 

 

The book is full of stuff like this - there are significant cost savings, and also potential opportunities for profit that are left on the table simply because women are ignored. 

 

Things like infrastructure and design seem like low-hanging fruit, and something that we really should be smart enough to fix. But the issue of design when it comes to sexual assault is a lot more depressing. It is frustrating that we even have to do this. But we do. 

 

Urban planning that fails to account for women’s risk of being sexually assaulted is a clear violation of women’s equal right to public spaces - and inadequate sanitary provision is only one of the many ways planners exclude women with this kind of gender-insensitive design. 

 

One of the most interesting stories in the book is of Iceland’s gender strike in 1975. A full 90 percent of the female population took place, and it resulted in wholesale legal change in that country - the year I was born! The US, unfortunately, remains hidebound and retrogressive. 

 

In any case, Iceland has been since then, one of the the best - even the best - country in which to be a “working woman.” But even this term is problematic.

 

There is no such thing as a woman who doesn’t work. There is only a woman who isn’t paid for her work.

 

(This is only mostly true, of course: the women married to billionaires do not work. Most rich women do not work. Women who enslaved black people mostly did not work either. But for the overwhelming majority of women, they do in fact work, whether or not they are paid.) 

 

[H]usbands create an extra seven hours of housework a week for women. An Australian study similarly found that housework time is most equal by gender for single men and women; when women start to cohabit, ‘their housework time goes up while men’s goes down, regardless of their employment status.’

 

This assumption that women will take care of the household goes along with another assumption.

 

The implicit bias is clear: expense codes are based on the assumption that the employee has a wife at home taking care of the home and the kids. This work doesn’t need paying for, because it’s women’s work, and women don’t get paid for it. Bovasso sums it up: ‘You can get $30 for takeout if you work late (because your wife isn’t there to cook you dinner) or $30 for Scotch if you want to drink your face off, but you can’t get $30 for a sitter (because your wife is at home with the kids).’ 

 

Of course, this isn’t just an unconscious bias. In the case of my parents, they were clear that they would babysit if we wanted to go to something like a marriage retreat, but NEVER for something that enabled my wife to work. 

 

The chapter on the myth of meritocracy is also excellent. 

 

The fact that meritocracy is a myth is not a popular one. Around the industrialized world, people believe that not only is meritocracy the way things should work, it’s the way things do work. Despite evidence suggesting that, if anything, the US is less meritocratic than other industrialized countries, Americans in particular hold on to meritocracy as an article of faith, and employment and promotion strategies over the past few decades have been designed as if meritocracy is a reality. 

 

In the context of this book, it is quite evident that this belief leads to discrimination against women. (And also minorities, although that isn’t specifically addressed in the book.) 

 

As a musician, I am gratified that the author mentions the use of blind auditions, and the revolutionary effect this has had on the composition of orchestras. This is one area of progress, but in many other industries, there is no equivalent of a blind audition. 

 

Even in education, the belief in the superiority of males persists. I won’t reproduce the entire discussion of how children draw scientists when asked to - whether that person is male or female - but there is a significant gender gap. 

 

Between 1985-2016, the average percentage of female scientists drawn by girls rose from 33% to 58%. The respective figures for boys were 2.4% and 13%. This discrepancy may shed some light on the finding of a 2016 study which found that while female students ranked their peers according to actual ability, male biology students consistently ranked their fellow male students as more intelligent than better-performing female students. Brilliancy bias is a hell of a drug. 

 

Furthermore, the proposed “cure” for gender bias is all too often to demand that women become more like men. 

 

It’s not clear whether Google didn’t have or didn’t care about the data on the cultural expectations that are imposed on women, but either way, their solution was not to fix the male-biased system: it was to fix the women. 

 

In general, workplace issues continue to be biased in favor of men, including workplace safety. 

 

While serious injuries at work have been decreasing for men, there is evidence that they have been increasing among women. The rise in serious injuries among female workers is linked to the gender data gap: with occupational research traditionally having been focused on male-dominated industries, our knowledge of how to prevent injuries in women is patchy to say the least. We know all about heavy lifting in construction - what the weight limits should be, how it can be done safely. But when it comes to heavy lifting in care work, well, that’s just women’s work, and who needs training for that? 

 

And again, the “solution” to differences in bodies seems always to be “why can’t a woman be more like a man?”

 

It’s a common complaint - and one for which the common solution is to fix the women. This is unsurprising in a world where what is male is seen as universal and what is female is seen as ‘atypical’.

 

In another chapter, the book looks at agriculture and gender. There is a case where the question of what made a particular variety of crop “improved” was decided by males. Which led to the decision that increased crop yields were the most important goal. And yet, the new seeds were a failure - households didn’t adopt them. 

 

The decision to talk only to the men was bizarre. For all the gaps in our data we can at least say that women do a fair amount of farming: 79% of economically active women in the least developed countries, and 48% of economically active women in the world, report agriculture as their primary economic activity. And the female farmers in this area didn’t see yields as the most important thing. They cared about other factors like how much land preparation and weeding these crops required, because these are female jobs. And they cared about how long, ultimately, the crops would take to cook (another female job). The new, high-yield varieties increased the time the women had to spend on these other tasks, and so, unsurprisingly, they did not adopt these crops. 

 

Again, the problem isn’t women - it is the system. 

 

Here is another one: efficient cookstoves. A serious problem in the third world is indoor air pollution from wood-fired stoves. Replacing them with less polluting alternatives has proven difficult. Why? Because the new stoves require longer cooking times, and also require constant monitoring rather than multitasking. 

 

But the recommendation wasn’t to address these shortcomings. Instead, the repeated recommendation was to fix the women, not the stoves. Sigh. 

 

There is an entire chapter on “one-size-fits-all.” This one too was fascinating to me. I am a short guy, and I have small hands. As in, a majority of the women in the string section of our orchestra have larger hands. This has meant some challenges in my career as a violinist and violist, and some differences in how I approach technical challenges.

 

But this is a far larger problem than string instruments, which are designed mostly around acoustics rather than ergonomics. In fact, pretty much everything in our world is designed around the male body. 

 

Another story from this chapter: speech recognition. 

 

It is well known that speech recognition technology is lousy and deciphering female speech. (And again, the “solution” is to fix the women - teach them how to talk to the machine.) But the problem isn’t women - it is the software. In reality, studies have shown that women, on average, have significantly higher speech intelligibility. At least when speaking with humans. They are more precise, more accurate, more understandable. The problem is that the machines have been trained on men, not women. 

 

The chapters on medicine are excellent. My wife is a nurse, and throughout her career, she has been a part of the collection of data on outcomes, and she has talked to me a lot about the gaps, particularly when it comes to pregnant women. 

 

As the author puts it, we should be routinely and systematically tracking, recording, and collating pregnant women’s outcomes. 

 

And indeed, we should be tracking outcomes by gender for all things medical. Female bodies do not react exactly the same way as male bodies, and we need to be able to adjust treatments based on actual results. 

 

I’ll briefly mention the chapter on unpaid household work. This too is something I have come to be a lot more aware of since having children. My wife and I have always had a non-traditional split when it comes to unpaid labor - I have cooked since I was a child, and have always done my own laundry and ironing, as well as a portion of household labor. We split childcare for many years - these days, with most of them adults, they take care of themselves. 

 

It is rather stupid that we do not count unpaid labor as part of GDP. Just because money doesn’t change hands doesn’t mean it is worthless. Quite the contrary. The unpaid labor - cooking, cleaning, childcare - is actually the most important part of the economy, and everything else rests on it. 

 

Changing our counting to account for this would - and should - lead to significant changes to priorities for government spending. 

 

A more dramatic government intervention than the introduction of paid parental leave would be to invest in social infrastructure. The term infrastructure is generally understood to mean the physical structures that underpin the functioning of a modern society: roads, railways, water pipes, power supplies. It doesn’t tend to include the public services that similarly underpin the functioning of a modern society like child and elder care. 

 

And also this:

 

We like to think that the unpaid work women do is just about individual women caring for their individual family members to their own individual benefit. It isn’t. Women’s unpaid work is work that society depends on, and it is work from which society as a whole benefits. When the government cuts public services that we all pay for with our taxes, demand for those services doesn’t suddenly cease. The work is simply transferred onto women, with all the attendant negative impacts on female paid labour-participation rates, and GDP. And so the unpaid work that women do isn’t simply a matter of ‘choice’. It is built into the system we have created - and could just as easily be built out of it. We just need the will to start collecting the data, and then designing our economy around reality rather than a male-biased confection. 

 

The chapter on measuring poverty is also interesting. Those of us who grew up in a household where money was treated as belonging to both spouses tend to have blind spots. I was disabused of this notion early in my legal career, as I saw first-hand how money was often used as a means of control. Here again, our statistics are problematic. 

 

Gendered poverty is currently determined by assessing the relative poverty of households where a man controls the resources (male-headed household) versus households where a woman controls the resources (female-headed household). There are two assumptions being made here. First, that household resources are shared equally between household members, with all household members enjoying the same standard of living. And second, that there is no difference between the sexes when it comes to how they allocate resources within their households. Both assumptions are shaky to say the least. 

 

Since both my parents were and are frugal and generous with each other, the assumptions held true in my family. But not so much in many other households. 

 

In this chapter, I will note one significant flaw in the reasoning. When it comes to the discussion of United States tax policy, I think the author gets it wrong. (She is British, so her analysis of other countries may be fine.) Here in the US, withholding is complicated, and has everything to do with what box people check. It isn’t automatic that the lower earner is withheld at the higher marginal rate. In fact, for a lot of people in my experience, the opposite is true. There are a lot of things wrong with US tax policy - I could write dozens of posts about that - but this isn’t what she claims it is. 

 

On the other hand, she nails it when it comes to supply-side economics, and the shift in tax policy since the early 1980s. 

 

The tax system’s woman problem extends beyond the zombie assumption that household resources are allocated equally between the sexes: it encompasses the theory of taxation itself - at least in its current form. Since the 1980s, governments around the world have been less interested in taxes as a means to redistribute resources, seeing tax more as a potential retardant to growth that must be contained. The result has been lower taxes on capital, corporations, and high-income earners, and an increase in loopholes and incentives so that multinational corporations and the super-rich can avoid and evade tax. 

 

We need to return to the idea of taxation not as a hindrance, but as a means to accomplish necessary social goals: the funding of infrastructure, and redistribution of the ill-gotten gains of the billionaire class at the expense of the rest of us. 

 

There are a few chapters on the issue of equality in society, and this resonates a lot for me. Here is one fascinating insight:

 

It has become fashionable for modern workplaces to relax what are often seen as outmoded relics of a less egalitarian age: out with stuffy hierarchies, in with flat organizational structures. But the problem with the absence of a formal hierarchy is that it doesn’t actually result in an absence of hierarchy altogether. It just means that the unspoken, implicit, profoundly non-egalitarian structure reasserts itself, with white men at the top and the rest of us fighting for a piece of the small space left for everyone else.

 

I also want to mention one passage from the chapter on disaster response. In all too many cases, disaster relief defaults to the male perspective, often ignoring female needs altogether. 

 

In what has to be the most ludicrous example, in a rebuilding of a region of India after a catastrophic earthquake, homes were provided….but without kitchens. I mean, seriously? This is what you get when you have highly gendered labor division, and make decisions without even consulting one gender. 

 

I’ll end with a thought from the afterword:

 

When we exclude half of humanity from the production of knowledge, we lose out on potentially transformative insights. 

 

This is where the vicious sexism of MAGA and right-wing political movements around the world turn out to be counterproductive. When women are excluded, everyone suffers. When women are fully included, everyone benefits. 

 

This book is depressing at times, but it also highlights a vision for a more positive future, if we should choose to make it come to pass. Women are half the world, and the more we do to make the world better for them, the better it will be for all of us.