A List of Things
- I totally want to do Ariel Levy. I'd been hearing bits and pieces about Female Chauvinist Pigs for a while, but it wasn't until I heard media apologist and arch nemesis Catherine Lumby hated Ariel and all she stands for that I really wanted to read it. So I did, inhaling it in a few breathy gulps, and I wasn't disappointed. Admittedly the Cat Lumby (you tabloid, 'A Current Affair' trendoid advert loving femmo you!) connection meant that I was prepared to like this book, not to mention the sneering reviews it's received. Nonetheless, Ms Levy raises some very, very good points, although I fear that a great, meandering chapter on radical feminism and Uncle Tommism might alienate some readers.
I find it hard to say where I stand on all this. I'm not anti-porn or anti-raunch or, heavens to Betsy, anti-sex, an accusation levelled at any person, man or woman, who ever dares to suggest that the seas of gyrating flesh in our popular culture might not be the most empowering thing in the world. I don't necessarily think porn or sex work is inherently degrading; to think so would imply that sex is degrading, and I certainly hope it's not. What I do think needs to be criticised is who has the right to ask what from whom, whose desires are articulated and who fulfils them and what kind of power is involved.
I really do think those critics who accuse Levy of being simplistic, of looking down on the raunch-loving female chauvinist pigs she examines as missing the point. What she's looking at is a very specific thread in American consumer culture. She's looking at the way some women identify with men at the expense of other women. For instance,
Instead of trying to reform other people's - or her own - perception of femininity, the Female Chauvinist Pig likes to position herself as something outside the normal bounds of womanhood. If defending her own little patch of turf requires denigrating other women - reducing them to "yuck" as [Camille] Paglia does or airheads who prioritize manicures, or, Judith Reagan's favourite, "pussies" - so be it.
There are some holes, however. Levy makes a brief mention of how her FCPs aim to behave 'like men,' take 'acting like a man' as a compliment, but they never specify what kind of man. She talks about how those caught up in raunch culture - the girls in Girls Gone Wild, high school girls with G strings riding above their jeans - are seeking male attention and approval, but she doesn't really talk to the men whose approval is so single-mindedly sought. It's a glaring omission, and I really think her argument would have been more complete if she'd taken into account what it is men see, what they feel they have the right to see.
So, yes. Read it, think about it, disagree with it. But I don't think we can ignore 'Female Chauvinist Pigs' any more than we can ignore the next Paris Hilton sex tape.
- Speaking of books, I've almost finished Kafka on the Shore. I'm enjoying it, but there are two many parts where the characters descend into a prolonged lecture about literature and philosophy for me to really get into it. However, there are enough odd encounters with registered trademarks, truck drivers, talking cats and raining fish and leeches to keep me interested. Good for a long bus trip when you want to look mildly intellectual.
- A note to news organisations everywhere, most particularly those run by Rupert Murdoch - the Paris Riots have nothing to do with Islamic extremism. These kids smoke hash and go to clubs and drive cars and are pissed and angry and very much not Islamic militants. Grow the fuck up and stop blaming everything on mythic Islamic extremists, 'kay?
- Does the brown note exist? I maintain, for subconscious reasons I still don't have acces to, that it does. My contemporaries say that it doesn't. Who is right? Who is wrong? It's the battle of the century!
- I just discovered Wikiquotes, like Wikipedia except marginally less intelligent. The proverbs section is particularly time-wasting. I especially like the Icelandic proverbs, as they speak the language of the fairies. Sweet is the smell from your own arse, indeed.
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