Circe by Madeline Miller

Source of book: I own this. 

Circe was one of last year’s book selections for our book club. I was unable to attend that meeting (although my wife did), so I never got around to reading it. However, she convinced me that it was really good, and, since she bought a copy, I figured I would want to read it. In the meantime, our club read The Song of Achilles, the first book by Miller, which was quite enjoyable. The consensus of our club, however, was that Circe was even better. In what has to be an interesting coincidence, the club also read The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood last year, so fully three of our twelve books were remixes of Greek mythology. I guess things go in cycles.

In any event, I can concur with the consensus that, of the three, Circe is the best. Fans of The Odyssey will be familiar with the Circe of mythology, of course. The daughter of the sun (aka Helios) is banished to the island of Aeaea (or Aiaia in the book - English spellings have been changed in the last few years, and I’m still not used to it…) for her experiments in sourcery. She is visited by Odysseus and his crew, but is outwitted by Odysseus with the assistance of Hermes. She sleeps with him, naturally, and (in later myths) bears him children. 

In addition to The Odyssey, Miller draws from a few episodes in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, other myths, and fills in the rest of the story with some interesting alternate ideas of her own. The story is written from the point of view of Circe, and, like The Song of Achilles, imagines that the bards have been less than honest. Because history is generally written by the winners, so to speak, the characters who serve as foils to the heroes and gods are assigned base motives and painted as mere villains. Like Patroclus, the lover of Achilles, Circe functions in Homer’s legends as an episode, or at best a muse, in the life of the hero. 

As a nymph, Circe exists on the lesser level of godhood. She is descended from Helios, a Titan - not one of the Olympians - and is thus aligned with the older gods, including Prometheus. (Hey, I just read some great works about him!) She also lacks the power of either the true Titans or the Olympians. Basically, she is immortal, but has to get by on guile, seduction, or whatever she can find for herself. In her case, it is “sorcery,” a combination of botanical knowledge, a few spells, and a lot of will. 

Miller does take a few liberties with the backstory. Circe is allowed to participate in a few mythological episodes in which she isn’t mentioned in the classical myths. For example, she gives comfort to Prometheus, transforms Glaucus into a god, and assists in the birth (and imprisonment) of the Minotaur - the monster born to her sister Pasiphae. These incidents do serve to explain some of the other myths, like how Circe came to possess a loom crafted by Daedalus, and why she had a falling out with Scylla. 

One of the things I love about Miller is her ability to draw together the various myths and make them fit together for modern readers who were not, perhaps, raised in the Classical tradition. Here in the US, it is pretty rare for any of us to have learned Greek and Latin and read the ancients in the original languages. That was (and to a degree is) an artifact of the British upper class, and of a bygone era for the rest of us. In my case, at least I read this stuff in my teens and twenties - and own a Bulfinch’s Mythology for reference. (In addition to a few others - I have a well stocked library, shall we say.) But remembering all the family trees isn’t an easy thing. That is why I find Miller’s ability to weave the relationships into the story so seamlessly to be a delight. 

This book has, in my view, two major themes. The first is a feminist one. Circe is a nymph, a female demigoddess, which means her function in life (or whatever immortals call it) is to be pretty, marry well, and use her feminine wiles to her advantage. Which is pretty much how it is even for the Olympians other than Athena and Artemis, if you think about it. Even Hera pretty much exists to be the embodiment of the female heridan, endlessly jealous of the younger, nubile women that her randy husband is endlessly bonking and impregnating. Circe refuses to play the game, and naturally incurs the wrath of the patriarchal and petty gods. 

The other theme is the nature of humanity. Circe, like Prometheus, has a natural sympathy for mortals. She takes it one further in this book by looking with an honest eye at the advantages of mortality and the disadvantages of immortality. With immortality, there seems to be no real need for - or even possibility of - growth and change. By nature, the gods are everlasting, and their petty disputes and jealousies and obsessions are unchanging. It is mortals who, by very virtue of their limited lives, must seek to become something. In the classical Greek ethos, this was fame - the one way that mortals can gain immortality. 

In exploring the psyche of Circe, Miller looks at deeper (to our modern psyches) questions. Does the very transient nature of our lives as humans give us an impetus toward change and growth? Is the fact that our relationships - even the most permanent and timeless - are destined to end motivate us to form stronger bonds? Is the pain of having mortal children enough to make an immortal eschew immortality? (That last one is one of the interesting questions posed by Paradise Lost: would Adam have chosen immortality over Eve?) And, ultimately, is immortality boring? If all outside relationships are fleeting, because mortals die, is eternity just eternal ennui? 

These are some of the “imponderables” which we cannot stop pondering. 

The two themes together make for a compelling re-telling of a timeless story. Reading Homer through a 21st Century lens can be horrifying. The objectification of women, and the assumption that they exist to serve as foils to the male heroes is problematic, as my teens have informed me after reading parts of The Odyssey. And they are, to a degree, correct. But there is a reason that the myths endure. Part of that reason is that myths aren’t static. Or, at least, they shouldn’t be. Circe has fascinated writers for more than 2500 years for a reason. Some reactionary medieval theologians have used her as a warning against sorcery and female sexuality, but others have seen in Homer’s tale a warning against intoxication, or an example of an egalitarian pairing. All good myths combine timeless evocation of human nature and psychology with a flexibility and adaptability to new times and circumstances. This is how C. S. Lewis can transform the myth of Cupid and Psyche into a powerful and devastating work that spoke to my late grandmother (who I never met) and myself two generations apart. It is how Percy Bysshe Shelley can take the Prometheus myth and write a paean to the universal siblinghood of humankind, while his wife Mary can invent the genre of Science Fiction and warn of the dangers of technological prometheanism. It is why Antigone in the hands of Anne Carson can resonate so well today with the question of law versus ethics, conflicting duties, and fairness versus anarchy. This is why I love the classics even as I cringe at the misogyny and militarism. And also why I am endlessly frustrated by the stupidity and moral nihilism of a literalist and theonomist approach to that other example of ancient literature: the Hebrew scripture and the new testament. The truth of mythology doesn’t lie in its cultural specifics, but in its timeless adaptability to the truth of human nature as expressed across cultures and times. 

I really wish I had been able to participate in the discussion of this book - alas, I had a camping trip planned for that weekend. I imagine this would have been a fascinating discussion, based on our discussions of related books about mythology. 

Although there were plenty of great lines, there is one which particularly stood out as astute. Circe isn’t a true prophet, like some of the gods and mortals. But she has a sort of prophetic ability which shows itself throughout the book. Here is what she says about it:

Among the gods there are a few who have the gift of prophecy, the ability to peer into the murk and glimpse what fates will come. Not everything may be foreseen. Most gods and mortals have lives that are tied to nothing; they tangle and wend now here, now there, according to no set plan. But then there are those who wear their destinies like nooses, whose lives run straight as planks, however they try to twist. It is these that our prophets may see. 

This is so very true. As both an attorney and as a person who observes things, I have found I have an uncanny ability to predict marriages that will eventually fail (to use one example.) Just as Circe predicts that Jason will ultimately cast Medea aside, with catastrophic results, it isn’t that difficult to see cases where disaster is hanging around the necks of people I meet. Forget the fates: their own choices doom them to disaster. And, like Circe, there isn’t much I can do to change their destiny. This applies to clients, naturally, but also to friends and family all too often. As the old saw goes, your character becomes your destiny. 

Circe was definitely an interesting take on the old myths, with compelling characters, good writing, and thoughtful questions. I hope Miller takes on more myths in the future. 

***

It is impossible to discuss mythology without at least mentioning some amazing art it has inspired. Circe has been represented by many over the years, but the best must be John William Waterhouse, who painted not one, but two iconic depictions of the goddess. (In addition to his Greek myths, he painted Arthurian stuff - his Lady of Shallott has to be the best known of that legend.) 

 Circe Offering the Cup to Odysseus is an amazing depiction. She dominates the picture, with Odysseus merely reflected in the mirror, a hesitant character to her supreme confidence. (And why not? She holds a potion in her glass, and one of his crewmen as a pig sits beside her feet.) The sheer garment teases at her nude figure, with her areolas visible and tempting. This picture fits far more with Miller’s portrayal of Circe as powerful, sexual, and not at all a stooge of Odysseus than Homer’s version. 

  

Equally moving is Circe Invidiosa, which portrays the moment when Circe, jealous of Scylla for stealing the affections of Glaucus, poisons the pool where she bathes. Again, what is barely visible - the transformation of Scylla under Circe’s feet - is part of the power. But it is Circe’s fierce expression which you can’t take your eyes off of. Waterhouse is fantastic at capturing the emotions of Circe in both pictures. 

Speaking of Scylla, and that whole thing with Gaucus, I have actually seen this picture in person. Laurent de La Hyre - Glaucus and Scylla. This one is at the Getty, which is one of our favorite places to visit. 

***

Just for fun, here is the list of books that our book club has read. At least the ones I have read too. Most of these were read for the club, but a few were ones I read previously - those posts pre-date the club discussion - and some I read afterward, because I missed the discussion. 

Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Calypso by David Sedaris

The Air You Breathe by Frances de Pontes Peebles

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

There There by Tommy Orange

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Educated by Tara Westover

Stiff by Mary Roach

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Marsh King’s Daughter by Karen Dionne

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin

Never Mind by Edward St. Aubyn

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders

Artemis by Andy Weir

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov 

The Radium Girls by Kate Moore

We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Source of book: Borrowed from the library. 

Every March for the past 7 years, I have read a selection for Women’s History Month. I have generally chosen works connected with Feminism. Although demonized by the Cultural Fundamentalist circles I was raised in (and sadly by an increasingly reactionary and fundamentalist Evangelicalism as well), it really shouldn’t be controversial. Feminism is simply this:

The Cultural, Political, and Economic Equality of men and women.

Of course, the problem with this for many is that this idea is anathema to them. Their worldview depends on a structural inequality of the sexes, one where men control the institutions of power and the money we use as a means of exchange. In order to justify this, they cling to ideas of a congenital inferiority of women (whatever euphemisms they use to deny this), whereby women are unfit for leadership, or even control of their own lives and destinies.

Here are my selections for previous years:

Are Women Human? By Dorothy Sayers (2014)

A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft (2015)

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood (2016)

Woman Lawyer: The Trials of Clara Foltz by Barbara Babcock (2017)

The Home-Maker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (2018)

The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton (2019) 

***

 

For this year, I decided to read Adichie’s short book - pamphlet really - adapted from her marvelous TED talk. I was already pretty familiar with it, but wanted to check and see if it was something that I would put on my list to recommend. 

The thing that rings the most true about Adichie’s experiences as detailed in the book is the way that “Feminism” is used as an epithet. It certainly was in my family, sadly. The ironic thing is that my dad is actually a feminist in practice, most of the time: he has never believed certain things were “women’s work,” he vigorously enforced policies against sexual harassment when he was a supervisor, and I have never known him to do anything inappropriate toward a woman. So it really was disheartening to hear him, even recently, complain that feminism had ruined everything. Sigh. 

I used to believe kind of the same thing, because I bought the Fundie/Conservative bullshit about what Feminism was really about. You know, man hating, humorless, whatever. And also, it was easier to believe that most (secretly all) women wanted to be stay at home mothers rather than work, because biology, when the women closest to me said that was what they wanted. 

The thing is, having strong women as music teachers kind of made that seem silly. And then, once I got into law, well, the whole thing fell apart. And that was before I met my wife…

Anyway, here are some highlights. 

But I remember that as I argued and argued, Okoloma looked at me and said, “You know, you’re a feminist.”

It was not a complement. I could tell from his tone -- the same tone with which a person would say, “You’re a supporter of terrorism.” 

Unfortunately, this is still a problem. I am now an open feminist, but that means that I am looked on like a serial killer in certain circles. Usually, this is because of the lies about feminism which are believed as (literally) gospel truth. I love this bit in the book:

Anyway, since feminism was un-African, I decided I would now call myself a Happy African Feminist. Then a dear friend told me that calling myself a feminist meant that I hated men. So I decided I would now be a Happy African Feminist Who Does Not Hate Men. At some point I was a Happy African Feminist Who Does Not Hate Men And Who Likes To Wear Lip Gloss And High Heels For Herself And Not For Men. 

Of course much of this was tongue-in-cheek, but what it shows is how that word feminist is so heavy with baggage, negative baggage: you hate men, you hate bras, you hate African culture, you think women should always be in charge, you don’t wear make-up, you don’t shave, you’re always angry, you don’t have a sense of humour, you don’t use deodorant. 

In my case, instead of “African,” use “Christian.” Because in those circles, gender roles and gender essentialism have become core beliefs of the religion. 

Another bit that really stood out was this one. 

We spend too much time teaching girls to worry about what boys think of them. But the reverse is not the case. We don’t teach boys to care about being likeable. We spend too much time telling girls that they cannot be angry or aggressive or tough, which is bad enough, but then we turn around and either praise or excuse men for the same reasons. All over the world, there are so many magazine articles and books telling women what to do, how to be and not to be, in order to attract or please men. There are far fewer guides for men about pleasing women. 

True story: before my wife and I were dating, she visited us, riding with a family member who stopped by a neighbor’s briefly. We heard later that she (who was my grandmother’s age) told my mom, “she seemed really sweet until she opened her mouth.” And that is kind of how it has been. Amanda is not concerned about making men like her. She isn’t interested in playing the femininity game. She doesn’t dress based on what men think, and doesn’t particularly care about “likeability.” This has, alas, caused unnecessary friction with my family. As has this one:

I know a woman who hates domestic work, but she pretends she likes it, because she has been taught that to be ‘good wife material’, she has to be -- to use that Nigerian word -- homely. And then she got married. And her husband’s family began to complain that she had changed. Actually, she had not changed. She just got tired of pretending to be what she was not. 

Not that Amanda ever pretended, but there is this expectation that women pretend that their greatest joy in life is childcare and housework. She refused to pretend to be who she was not. Like Dorothy Sayers, Adichie homes in on the core issue:

The problem with gender is that it prescribes how we should be rather than recognizing how we are. Imagine how much happier we would be, how freer to be our true individual selves, if we didn’t have the weight of gender expectations. 

And that is exactly what feminism is about. 

Adichie also notes that sexism also hurts men, who are taught to be hard, violent, and so on, so they are “not like a woman.” I also loved that she noted the connection between masculinity and money. A man’s worth is measured by his paycheck, which leaves lower income males seeking to prove their manliness through other, less beneficial means. 

I also recognized Amanda in another passage. 

A Nigerian acquaintance once asked me if I was worried that men would be intimidated by me.

I was not worried at all -- it had not even occurred to me to be worried, because a man who would be intimidated by me is exactly the kind of man I would have no interest in. 

This is one hundred percent Amanda. One reason she liked me was that I am not intimidated by strong women. Actually, I rather like strong women. I like working with them, because they don’t play stupid manipulative games. I like competence. Just saying. 

One final bit that struck me was this one. 

Some people ask, ‘Why the word feminist? Why not just say you are a believer in human rights, or something like that?’ Because that would be dishonest. Feminism is, of course, part of human rights in general -- but to choose to use the vague expression human rights is to deny the specific and particular problem of gender. It would be a way of pretending that it was not women who have, for centuries, been excluded. It would be a way of denying that the problem of gender targets women. That the problem was not about being human, but specifically about being a female human. For centuries, the world divided human beings into two groups and then proceeded to exclude and oppress one group. It is only fair that the solution to the problem should acknowledge that.

And that is the crux of the problem with the denialism so trendy in right wing circles right now. On a related note, the “all lives matter” bullshit didn’t arise until “black lives matter.” This nonsense about being concerned for all rights is just a deflection whenever an excluded group protests. 

Adichie is right: we should all be feminists. And we should be clear what it means to not be a feminist as well. It is nothing less than opposition to social, economic, and political equality for women. 

***

As I write this, much of our state is being shut down to try to slow the spread of the Covid-19 virus. The effect on our family will be that Amanda (who is an ICU nurse) will likely be working a lot of extra shifts to keep our healthcare system functioning. I, on the other hand, will essentially lose a couple months of income. That means that our roles (which are already more egalitarian than most) will have to shift. She will be the primary breadwinner, and I will have to take over most of the household duties. Not a big deal for us, because I don’t measure my worth in dollars, or believe housework is beneath me. And she knows that I respect her career and will support her 100% through this crisis.

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

This was this month’s selection for our “Literary Lush” book club. One of the things I enjoy about this club is that I end up reading interesting books that I never would have discovered on my own. 

For some reason or other, the club ended up reading no fewer than three modern reimaginings of Greek myths. I have yet to read Circe, but I did read Madeline Miller’s other book, The Song of Achilles. This book, by Canadian author Margaret Atwood, takes a look at the story of Penelope in The Odyssey from two different perspectives. The first is that of Penelope, who feels that the men who told the original myth got a number of things rather wrong about her. The second is from the point of view of the twelve slave girls who were hanged after Odysseus’ return. 

The majority of the book is told in prose by Penelope. She is rather interesting in her perspective. As we ended up discussing, the tough part was that her actual actions were rather constrained in The Odyssey (and in the lesser known myths about her, such as her origin story), so she couldn’t exactly act differently. On the other hand, Atwood is strongly feminist, so she tried to make Penelope a stronger and more interesting character than just the “faithful woman standing by her philandering man.” There was some disagreement in our club as to how successful Atwood was at this. Some found the reimagined Penelope to be whiny and ineffective. At minimum, I would say that she is an unreliable narrator whose motives are not as pure as she pretends. 

In between chapters, the Chorus sings - a chorus consisting of the murdered slave girls. Their voices are snarky and sarcastic, and deliver a delightful satire on the whole story. 

I was surprised to discover that this book was one of a planned series by different authors. The Canongate Myth Series was to be a series of books written by established literary authors retelling myths from around the world. Atwood’s contribution was part of the first set released. So far, 18 have been released, although only a few have turned out to be widely popular. I am tempted to at least seek out the one written by Alexander McCall Smith. 

Overall, I enjoyed the book, although it kind of seemed short. I imagine this is due in part to the limited material that Atwood had to work with, but may also have been one of the restrictions on the series itself, which appears to have envisioned shorter works of roughly uniform size. 

I rather liked the poetic interludes by the maids - while Atwood’s poetry isn’t on the level of the best poets, it is decent, and serves its purpose. She hits a range of genres along the way, which is kind of fun. 

I found a few lines particularly intriguing. The first is the description of Odysseus. 

And indeed the legs of Odysseus were quite short in relation to his body. It was all right when he was sitting down, but standing up he looked top-heavy. 

That’s actually a pretty good description of me: I’m 5’7”, with a 29 inch inseam. So, yeah. (My wife says I am a hobbit.) 

Helen of Troy doesn’t come off very well in this book. (Or indeed in most modern retellings.) For some reason, the idea of a manipulative woman who makes worthless men fall in love with her and start wars and such hasn’t worn well in a more egalitarian age. It is easier to identify with Athena or one of the more enterprising women in mythology than with the dazzling and shallow beauty. Here is Penelope’s scathing appraisal. 

Why is it that really beautiful people think that everyone else in the world exists merely for their amusement?

You could say that about many wealthy people too - particularly narcissists and those who inherit their wealth. I must say that Helen deserves her tarnished reputation - I would much rather have the intelligent woman than the simpering beauty who runs off with the first man willing to start a war over her.

In general, Atwood seems skeptical of the possibility of women treating each other well - the sisterhood, so to speak. In her other books as in this one, there are too many women willing to throw the others under the bus in order to profit a little more in the patriarchal systems they inhabit. In this book, it isn’t just Helen. It is Eurycleia, the old nurse of Odysseus, who seems to have a weird Freudian connection to him (and I agree with Atwood that this is very much present in The Odyssey as well.) It is also Anticleia, Odysseus’ mother. In Atwood’s telling, her most frequent expression to Penelope was “You don’t look well.” I made a full stop in my reading at this point, because this was uncomfortably close to a similar situation in my own life. I will leave it at that, without further detail. 

The consensus of our club was that, of the mythologically based books we read this year, Circe was the best. I guess I will have to read that one soon. 

***

Just for fun, here is the list of books that our book club has read. At least the ones I have read too. Most of these were read for the club, but a few were ones I read previously - those posts pre-date the club discussion - and some I read afterward, because I missed the discussion. 

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

There There by Tommy Orange

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Educated by Tara Westover

Stiff by Mary Roach

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Marsh King’s Daughter by Karen Dionne

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin

Never Mind by Edward St. Aubyn

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders

Artemis by Andy Weir

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov 

The Radium Girls by Kate Moore

The Stories of Eva Luna by Isabel Allende

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

I don’t entirely remember how this book got on my list, but I suspect it was off of a “Latinx Book List” of some sort. I make a concerted effort to read diversely, and that includes seeking out books outside the white, male, Anglo-American, and straight world. Not that there is anything specifically wrong with old dead white guys - and goodness knows, as a lover of classic literature, I read plenty of them as well - but a variety of voices is necessary, particularly if one reads to expand one’s universe. Part of this diversity involves reading books which were not originally written in English. If you count live theater and poetry, this is my 10th book this year that is in translation. 

Since I don’t remember exactly where I got the recommendation, I am also unsure exactly why this book, of Allende’s books. It is a collection of short stories told, Scheherazade style, by a character in one of her other books. That said, it stands alone just fine, as far as I can tell. Perhaps it would be enriched by knowledge of the title character, but the stories are enjoyable on their own.

There are a total of 23 stories, plus a brief prologue. For the most part, they are stories about women and sex. Well, that fails to cover it, somehow. Perhaps they are about the relationship between women, female desire, sexuality, power, violence, class, and society. All of the above, wrapped up together. The setting is an unnamed South American country (or countries - the settings seem pretty varied), likely based on Chile, where Allende was raised, or Peru, where she was born. Or both. The politics are unfortunately recognizable, although these too vary. The autocratic dictator, born out of a revolution, figures prominently. And also colonialist rulers, corrupt bureaucrats, bandit kings, and more. The time frames are rarely actually stated, but the specifics of life indicate that the stories may well span the entire 20th Century. 

The women certainly form the center of all the stories. Men may be main characters, but they turn out to orbit around the women. The men may have the power, but women find ways to survive, to assert their humanity even as it is being dismissed. 

The woman who “sells words” as talismans, essentially, who falls in love with the rebel leader, El Mulato, and draws him with “Two Words,” the title of the story. The woman, who, having given birth to two gravely disabled children with her husband, has two healthy children as the result of an affair she keeps secret until the very end of her life. The wife of a foreign diplomat who runs off with the dictator, then disappears from society (and him) in his abandoned vacation villa. The creative prostitute who saves a small fortune servicing (well, mostly manipulating) the workers on a remote plantation, then retires and abscondes with the first man who proves to be her equal. There are darker stories too, about a deaf child stolen from his parents by fraud - and their quest to find him. The women seduced and abandoned. The holocaust survivor who tries in vain to save a young girl trapped in a lahar. In all of these, Allende skillfully evokes the emotions of the characters, the time and place of the setting, and the visceral feel of the narrative. 

I was particularly struck by the way Allende writes female desire. Here in Western culture of the last few hundred years, we have this idea in our consciousness that females either don’t desire sex for its own sake, or only in the context of “committment” (meaning marriage), or that they trade it for “committment,” meaning a promise to financially support her. (Which is different from prostitution solely in the length of the contract…) This wasn’t always so. Previously, it was believed that females were sexually insatiable, and that men were the rational ones. Exactly why this changed is not entirely clear, although there are a few theories floating around which might be at least partial explanations. However it happened, the expectation currently is that women have the responsibility to preserve their “purity,” and police the boundaries of a romantic relationship. Males, meanwhile, are expected to push those boundaries. And if they succeed, it is generally considered the woman’s fault. (That’s your quick summary of the purity culture I was raised in, although my dad at least made it clear that women could and did enjoy sex - my sex ed was vastly better than average.) Oh, don’t forget that applied to white women. Women of color were assumed to be seductresses, sexually insatiable, which is why a white man could rape them with impunity…

Allende, on the other hand, treats female sexuality much the same as our culture treats that of men. Women are fully sexual in these stories, often from a young age. They make their choices (some good, others questionable), and live with the consequences. (The men often avoid the consequences for a while - just like in real life - but are often bitten in the butt later.) I would also say that this book is another point in favor of my belief that women, on average, tend to write better sex scenes than men. My theory on this is that because of the combination of toxic masculinity in our culture, and the fact that human reproduction doesn’t require female pleasure, men are not as observant of the details and emotions which make a scene actually sexy, rather than just...awkward. Just a theory. 

The messiness of life, love, and relationships is on full display in these stories. Whether tragic, humorous, poignant, or horrifying, Allende’s stories let their characters be complex, human, and unpredictable. 

I think this book was a good introduction to Isabel Allende, and I intend to read more of her books in the future. 

All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister

Source of book: Borrowed from the library.

Where to even begin with this book? There is so much to say, and so many things in it which need to be better understood. 

Let me start with this: I was raised in Cultural Fundamentalism, which can probably best be understood as fighting to return to a mythical golden age. A key part of the myth and perhaps the biggest driving force in the Culture Wars™ is that of the supposedly ideal gender roles and hierarchies found in “traditional” marriages of the past. You know, where the man made all the money, the woman did the childcare and housekeeping, and everyone was happy...and if they weren’t they should be, damnit! 

Thus, a key sign of what they saw as cultural decline was the cultural shift away from women marrying young, having babies, and keeping the hell out of the halls of power. “Feminism” was seen as the great satan, the malevolent force which told girls that they could make their own choices, have their own lives, make their own money, and indeed exist without being owned by a male. 

Whatever I may have believed (or at least tried to believe) in my teens, I thoroughly rejected that paradigm when I left my parents’ home and established one of my own. When I fell in love with the woman who would become my wife, I knew that her decision to marry me was conditioned on our agreement that we would most certainly NOT have a “traditional” marriage. She was clear that she would have a career, and I knew that meant that both of us would have to make the adjustments necessary to make that happen. In practice, this has meant that she has worked nights and I have worked part time with a flexible schedule, so that our children have had a parent present. (We had some help from my mother-in-law when the kids were little, which we greatly appreciated.) 

Our marriage is, in a very real sense, non-traditional. She is more ambitious and driven, while I am more nurturing. It is just who we are, and traditional gender roles wouldn’t work for either of us. 

I tell this story because it really does fit in with the book. While primarily about singleness, it also discusses the way that singleness as a viable option for women has changed the entire landscape. It has, in fact, revolutionized marriage itself. Thus, the book isn’t “against” marriage (and the author is, in fact, married with kids) - but it does explore the implications and results of female independence.

The book can be divided into two main topics. The first is the history of single women, primarily in the United States. Pretty much every civil rights or social movement has drawn its force from single women. That includes causes from the abolition of slavery to voting rights to unionization to the civil rights movement. The second topic is the modern reality of increasing singleness. Marriage ages have risen dramatically (and are now higher than the average age of first birth), and a historically large portion of the female population is single. Traister looks at why this is, and also at what it means for society. Unlike the usual right-wing pearl clutching about cultural decay and such, she examines it as the natural result of women having - and making - choices about their own lives. 

There are so many outstanding passages and quotes that it is impossible to list them all. I did write down a bunch, though, and want to go through them a bit in this post. 

I also want to recommend a companion book to this one: The Way We Never Were by Stephanie Coontz, which looks at the myth of the “stay-at-home mom,” and how it is a historical anomaly and strongly connected to racism. Coontz is cited frequently as a source in All the Single Ladies - primarily her research into marriage and women in American history. 

Nellie Bly: “What do you think the new woman will be?”

Susan B. Anthony: “She’ll be free.”

This quote opens the book. And I think it captures the ultimate goal of feminism: to make women every bit as free as men have been for millennia. So why is this so controversial? 

The introduction is fascinating too. Traister explains that she hated it when the heroines in her books got married. Because marriage was the end. As in, it was the end of the woman as an interesting person. All the life and motion and vivacity of her childhood ends, and she becomes, well, a wife and mother and ceases to be interesting. This is, of course, a shame - but it is something I myself have felt reading literature. Traister loved Anne of Green Gables - as did I (I had a huge crush on Anne in Jr. High), but I never could get into the books after the first four. Because Anne just wasn’t much fun after she got married and had kids. All those hopes and dreams and adventures and passions...well, they “had narrowed, and now seemed to lead only to the tending of dull husbands and the rearing of insipid children…” And, while I am sure that most of us real-life husbands aren’t quite as dull as the ones in books, this is very true about the literary sorts. Gilbert isn’t much fun after marriage either. But shouldn’t adulthood and even marriage with kids be full of all those hopes and dreams and adventures and passions? 

Susan B. Anthony, who never married, is quoted again at the end of the introduction.

As young women become educated in the industries of the world, thereby learning the sweetness of independent bread, it will be more and more impossible for them to accept the...marriage limitation that “husband and wife are one, and that one the husband…” Even when man’s intellectual convictions shall be sincerely and fully on the side of Freedom and equality to women, the force of long existing customs and laws will impel him to exert authority over her, which will be distasteful to the self-sustained, self-respectful woman… Not even amended constitutions and laws can revolutionize the practical relations of men and women, immediately, any more than did the Constitutional freedom and franchise of Black men transform white men into practical recognition of the civil and political rights of those who were but yesterday their legal slaves. 

Anthony then predicts that, logically, when women gain their economic, social, and political rights, they would usher in an “epoch of single women.” And lo, it has come to pass. 

(Side note here: the anti-abortion lobby loves to claim Anthony as one of their own. But the evidence strongly indicates that she would have had no use for their patriarchal crap.) 

The rise of single women as a significant demographic has had a number of effects. One that Traister mentions that I found intriguing was the connection between single women and LGBTQ rights. Here is something to consider:

The journey toward legal marriage for gays and lesbians may seem at odds with what looks like a flight from marriage by heterosexuals. But in fact, they are part of the same project: a dismantling of the institution as it once existed--as a rigidly patrolled means by which one sex could exert legal, economic, and sexual power over another--and a reimagining of it as a flexible union to be entered, ideally, on equal terms.

Later in the book, Traister looks in more detail at the way that same-sex marriage has changed expectations in heterosexual marriages. 

If there are broad distinctions to be made between the nature of same-sex female pairs versus heterosexual ones, it’s that the same-sex unions have not entailed one of their members being automatically accorded more power, status, or economic worth based entirely on gender.

And THIS is what I mean when I call my own marriage “non-traditional.” We entered our marriage on equal terms, with the aim of flexibility. And never, ever, ever, as an institution which would allow me to exert power over her. 

In the long run, I believe this will be one of the biggest legacies of same-sex marriage: it will lead a complete rethinking of the institution, changing it from one of power to one of mutuality and love. 

After this bit, Traister takes a look at the Culture Wars™, specifically, the preservation of the (mythical) past. She looks at a few of the old white dudes who predicted that the power of the single female voter was destined to fade, because they would die out. This, as Traister points out, makes two ludicrous assumptions.

[Joel] Kotkin’s error, of course, is both in assuming that unmarried people do not reproduce--in fact, they are doing so in ever greater numbers--but also in failing to consider whence the gravitation away from married norms derived. A move toward independent life did not simply emerge from a clamshell: It was born of generations of dissatisfaction with the inequities of religious, conservative, social practice. Why should we believe that children born to social conservatives will not tread a similar path, away from conservative values, as the one walked by generations of traditionally raised citizens before them? The impulse toward liberation isn’t inoculated against by strict conservative backgrounds; it’s often inculcated by them.

 And that is it in a nutshell. I was raised ultra-conservative, as was my wife. And we both found our background to be a strong motivation to live very different lives than we experienced. 

Traister also takes a hard look at history. As Coontz explores in detail, the idea of limiting women to the home is, in some ways, modern. It is a product of the industrial revolution. With fewer people working in agriculture, and children no longer vital to economic success, something had to change. Alas, what happened was the sequestering of women to a narrow (and rather powerless) sphere, removing them from the visible political and economic life of the nation, while relying on them to do the unpaid drudge work necessary for men to work outside the home. 

Traister points out an extremely interesting phenomenon in this regard. As machines made household tasks quicker and easier, women had less that they had to do. (Seriously, compare hand washing clothes with a washing machine, or building a fire to cook with turning on a burner, to name just two.) 

Everyday tasks were made more time-consuming and taxing, so as to better fill the days of women who might otherwise grow restive and attempt to leave the house.

Exactly. Homes have expanded dramatically in size. (So much more to keep clean and decorated!) Children that used to have lots of unstructured time now have hours of homework and extracurricular activities that they must be doing or you are a bad parent. (The whole helicopter parent phenomenon exists to fill the lives of unhappy mothers, in my opinion.) Entertainment must be lavish. (Hey there, Martha Stewart!) And, in the more Fundie households, homeschooling is mandatory - a full time (if uncompensated) job requiring a woman at home. This is the modern manifestation of the phenomenon, but it dates back to the early 1800s - Traister quotes a number of publications from the era.

Moving forward a bit in history, Traister mentions the intimate connection between feminism and abolitionism. You might think, perhaps, that the subjugation of women and the subjugation of non-whites could be related. And you would be right. And not just about the connection back then, but in our own times as well. Almost universally, you will find that misogyny and racism go hand in hand. 

In this section, Traister also mentions one abolitionist and feminist who did marry: Lucy Stone. I must say, she was amazing. She was the first woman in the United States to keep her name after marriage, and she forewent the usual vows (including a promise to obey her husband) in favor of reading a protest against marriage laws. Her husband, in case you wondered, was also an ardent feminist, and fully on board with this. You can read the whole thing online here, but how about this badass opening?

While we acknowledge our mutual affection by publicly assuming the relationship of husband and wife, yet in justice to ourselves and a great principle, we deem it a duty to declare that this act on our part implies no sanction of, nor promise of voluntary obedience to such of the present laws of marriage, as refuse to recognize the wife as an independent, rational being, while they confer upon the husband an injurious and unnatural superiority, investing him with legal powers which no honorable man would exercise, and which no man should possess. 

In addition to timelessly great causes like abolition, single women also ignited the Prohibition movement. While that turned out to be a disaster on many levels, it didn’t come out of nowhere. Traister makes an excellent point:

There may be no greater testament to the suffocating power of marital expectation than the fact that, for a time, the banning of booze seemed a more practical recourse against spousal abuse than the reform of marriage law or redress of inequities within the home. 

Another bit of history that was interesting was on the topic of abortion. For centuries, abortion was largely the province of women - herbal healers with the knowledge necessary. Abortion was legal in many cases, believe it or not. However, as part of the backlash against feminism, there was a legal crackdown on the means by which women could evade or exert control over the “benign offices of wife and mother,” which was considered their destiny. That’s why abortion restrictions have always gone hand in hand with attacks on birth control and accurate sex education. Again, you can see this exact same thing happening today. The anti-abortion industry is now openly opposed to birth control and fights against scientifically accurate education. Why? Well, women might take control of their own reproduction - cutting men out of the loop perhaps. 

In the 1920s, another major shift occurred, one which is not talked about in conservative circles. Prior to the 1920s, it was commonplace - nay, normal and expected - for a young man to have his first sexual experience with a prostitute. Well, if he didn’t have it by raping a slave girl, perhaps. The price of the preservation of [white] female “purity” was widespread prostitution and rape of human chattel. However, the abolition of slavery, while it didn’t eliminate the problem of rape (which very much continued - a white man might get fined for raping a black woman or child but that was it), did give black women the option of leaving the situation rather than submit to further assaults. In the 1920s, the second shift occurred. “[Y]oung middle-class men were more likely to lose their virginity with women of their own class than with prostitutes.” Think about the magnitude of that shift. With it came what conservatives keep lamenting: women were far less likely to be virgins on their wedding night. 

Here’s another interesting parallel between the past and present. When Margaret Sanger founded what would become Planned Parenthood, there was a backlash that had some really unsavory overtones. While I admire some things about Theodore Roosevelt (his advocacy for public lands, his trust-busting, his progressive-for-their-time ideas), he was, like most of his era, racist. He disliked Sanger and the idea of birth control because he believed it kept the white birth rate down, thus leading to what he called “race suicide.” Ouch. “A race is worthless if women cease to breed freely.” Double ouch. But you see this today, notably in Evangelical circles. They don’t use explicitly racial terms (like the more Fundie groups absolutely do), but they use some nice dog whistles. Hence Al Mohler’s Freudian slip when he condemned women for choosing to be childless (making them, as he said, not fully human) - he actually said that childless people don’t tend to vote for Trump. Hey, you know who else doesn’t vote for Trump? Non-white people. And no, I do not think that was an accident. It’s the same recycled rhetoric about brown people reproducing faster than white people, just with dog whistles. I grew up in that nonsense. 

(Another side note here: one of the reasons that I think the anti-abortion movement is evil is that they lie incessantly about everything from science to medicine to history. One of the biggest is the gross slander of Margaret Sanger, wherein they “quote” from one of her letters...leaving out the part that makes it clear that she intends the exact opposite of what the anti-abortion industry claims.)

Speaking of racism, I think one of the strongest chapters in the book is the one that looks at the decline in marriage in African American families. Those of us who grew up conservative were taught that black poverty rates were driven by black women spreading their legs before marriage. And that the cause of that was social programs. (Never mind that more whites are on welfare than blacks, of course.) Traister takes a look at the real history. In the 1950s - before the social programs in question - black marriage rates declined. She looks at how explicitly racist policies excluded blacks from the heavily subsidized programs for whites that gave rise to the suburban family phenomenon. From jobs to housing to education to even Social Security - blacks were excluded. 

Here’s something for consideration: what if African Americans are neither stupid nor more immoral than white people? What if they too respond to circumstances in as predictably human fashion as we white people do? It is this question that nudged me away from my conservative beliefs after I got out of the bubble of childhood. I think Traister’s writing is strong on this issue. She makes a solid case for why marriage is not an advantage for everyone. And in particular, why marriage makes things worse for people in grinding poverty or in communities decimated by mass incarceration. In her evisceration of “pro-marriage” government seminars, Traister cites evidence that addressing poverty itself raises marriage rates. 

It seems clear that a government address of poverty is likeliest to make marriage more accessible to those who want it, while programs designed to shove marriage down the throats of Americans least equipped to enter it stably have little impact. If politicians are concerned about dropping marriage rates, they should increase welfare benefits. It’s that simple.

This is backed up by substantial evidence, by the way. But, as the Trump era has proven, conservatives have zero interest in actually improving life for the poor, who they view as undeserving. It is, and always has been, about racism. I would recommend this book for that chapter alone. 

Another great chapter is on the advantages of singleness - and delayed marriage. Conservatives (and patriarchists in particular) tend to push for women to marry young. Before they get too “independent.” (Yep, I grew up in that shit.) Traister points out that women are faulted for being “selfish” when they insist on the same self-determination as men have always had. For example, women have been expected to pick up and move to follow the man’s job. A man who did the same would be mocked as “whipped.” A man is entitled to build his life around his interests, but a woman who does so is often denigrated. (And always denigrated in Fundie circles. Believe me on that one.) Citing one of the many screeds against single women, Traister notes that it was “pathologizing unmarried women as flawed, sneakily laying out [the] self-interested female subject in comparison to a set of deeply ingrained cultural expectations: that a woman who really wants love and who is worthy of being loved should be willing to put her priorities second to those of a mate.” 

In my own experience, there will always be a tension between the desire to be partnered, and the desire for independence. But for men, that tension didn’t really exist until recently. A wife was there to support her man’s dreams. I was literally taught that. But in my non-traditional, egalitarian marriage, we both support each other’s dreams. And we have to compromise, because we are two different people with different desires and areas of interest. Sure, our dreams overlap quite a bit - that’s why we are married rather than single - but both of us have had to give up a bit so the other can have what they need. It’s worth it for what we gain. 

I have long said that the single most effective way for a woman to change the dynamics of a marriage (particularly a future marriage) is for her to have her own income. It literally changes everything. While Fundies fuss and fume about this, I have found it to be a much improved dynamic. This is also why the younger generations believe in being financially “set” before marriage or kids. 

They [women] see their own economic stability, their jobs, as a “defense against patriarchal sex role expectations and a defense against bad behaviors” including substance abuse, cheating, and domestic violence, as well as “insurance in case of a breakup. “They’re worried,” said [researcher Kathryn] Edin, “that if they don’t earn money they won’t have the power to negotiate for equal say in the relationship.” 

Again, this is exactly what I see in the marriages of people I know. While it is certainly possible to have a good marriage with economic inequality, it is hard to have a truly equal one. 

How about this irony: egalitarians are much more likely to get married and stay married. 

The great irony is that, as much as conservatives rage against the dying of traditional gender roles, by many measures, it’s the people who are messing with the old marital expectations who might be credited with saving marriage as an institution.

Much has been written about the malaise in Japan. An aging population, plummeting birth rates, shrinking workforce, and a generation seemingly uninterested in relationships and marriage. There have been a number of theories floated, and some have some truth in them. As in many other countries, concern about the future makes marriage less likely. The last several decades of neo-liberal economic policies have made younger people less well off than their ancestors, and they are not as optimistic about what their future will look like. I think, though, that there is a significant piece missing as to why Japan in particular has issues. 

Traister ties the best of the theories together with an idea that seems startlingly obvious once you see it. Japanese culture is based around an extreme version of patriarchy. Work hours are brutally long, and do not allow the needed time to care for children or build a home life. Traditionally, this was done by women, but, as women have become educated and had their first taste of an alternative, they have rejected the idea of becoming a servant to a man. Women can now earn a living, but they find that they still face the same domestic expectations from men. 

Guess what this led to? The fact that 90% (!!!) of young Japanese women told surveyors that they would rather stay single than enter into “what they imagine marriage to be like.” That’s a problem. If gendered marriage expectations are so bad that 9 in 10 women run away, then you are going to have a “celibacy problem.” Traister notes as well that there is a strong correlation worldwide on this issue. Countries with strong patriarchal expectations of women end up with lower marriage rates. Young women forgo marriage, and young men live at home as adults so their mommies can do their laundry and cooking for them. Grow up already. Countries with egalitarian cultures actually do better. Traister is pretty optimistic about the United States on this score - she sees the US as more willing to change due to its culture, loud Fundies notwithstanding. 

I think there is some truth in this. There has indeed been a massive shift in the culture. (Which is what terrifies Fundies.) Even in the days of Susan B. Anthony and Nelly Bly, Anthony could say that while men used to be afraid of suffragists, they now sought them out. At one time, educated women were less likely to marry. Those days have been gone for a while. Now, educated women - and employed women - are more likely to marry. They have become desirable because male tastes have adapted to change. At least in the circles I run in, most men my age, honestly, prefer smart, educated, and employed women. It’s a turn on. The shift, Traister believes, came because of single women who pioneered the entry of women into the workforce and other formerly male-dominated areas. 

More than that, unmarried women alter assumptions about women by working alongside men who come to see them as colleagues and bosses; by drinking beer and arguing politics with men who come to regard them as friends; by having sex with men who (hopefully) come to understand that sex does not mean ownership. By existing on their own terms in the world, women force men to reckon with them as peers and as human beings, not simply as subordinate helpmates or sexual objects.

Preach it! As American Evangelicalism and conservatism continue their dance down the path of misogyny and patriarchy, they will continue to lose the younger generations, who have experienced women as peers. As colleagues and bosses, friends and companions. 

I’ll end, as Traister does, with a bit about how society and government need to change. Much ink has been spilled by conservatives about how single women “expect the state to do for them what should be done by a husband.” I admit I bought into that in my youth. But it didn’t stand up well to real life. As the example of Japan shows in its extreme form, society has for centuries been set up to subsidize traditional male dominance. I could write an entire post on the ways in which female-dominated professions are paid less and have worse benefits than male-dominated ones. Or how subsidies and tax breaks shift money to wealthy (white) men. The system is set up to maintain male independence with the expectation that women will meekly get in line and work their asses off to maintain that, at the expense of their own independence. A truly just society would ensure that women receive the same financial compensation - and control over that compensation - as men do. And culture would then have to adapt to men taking an equal share on those unpaid duties of care. Guess what? We men can adapt - and we will have to, or we will increasingly be viewed by women as a bad investment. 

This book has so much in it, I just covered a few highlights. The bottom line: when feminism freed women from their status as chattel, and brought them closer to economic, social, and political equality, it brought significant social changes. Among them was that, given actual choices, women increasingly have rejected the rather one-sided “traditional” marital and gender role expectations. Humans have, as they always have, adapted to changes. Many women chose to be and continue to choose to be single - which I believe is far superior to being in a bad marriage. But men too have adapted - I have. And ultimately, there is no point in trying to preserve an unjust social relationship wherein one party owns and dominates the other. Marriage can be a good thing. But so can singlehood. And women are entitled to be considered fully human, with the same right of self-determination as men. Period. 

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I couldn’t figure out where in the flow to put it, but I should mention that astronomer and all-around badass Maria Mitchell is quoted in connection with the tension between independence and partnering. Her poem, “How Charming Is Divine Philosophy,” is quoted in part. I can’t find the whole thing online, alas. 

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I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but it meshes with this post: my wife believed she would never marry. She had seen patriarchy up close, and had absolutely zero interest in having that kind of a marriage. She would have been one of the Single Ladies of this book. As it happened, she met and fell in love with me - at a young age, no less - and we ended up together. But she would have ended it if I had shown the least inclination to dictate her future to her. I am honored that she chose to share her life with me, make children with me, and conspire against the world together.