Friday, December 4, 2009

Gender Identity vs. Overt Misogyny

I wanted to post something funny but alas, alack, I lack the anecdote. Perhaps tonight's holiday office party will provide fodder for the next post. So instead, here's what's on my mind:


Is it misogynistic to have a male character who is bigger/better/faster/stronger than the female protagonist?


I keep reading book reviews by people I deem superior to me in literary taste, social consciousness, and basic coolness. They don't like the pop culture books that I enjoy and the reason that crops up with the most frequency is that the book is antifeminist in some way. And no, I am not talking about Twilight, although its popularity demonstrates a personal conviction of mine.


Evolution trumps social consciousness.


We are all descended from hunter-gatherer societies with division of labor based on biological necessities. Women bear children. Human children require a lot of time and attention, with one of the longest and most intensive juvenile periods in the animal kingdom. It might be possible, or even advisable, to be a single mother these days but for most of human history it would have been a very difficult prospect. I propose, therefore, that most women exhibit a genetic preference for a male who can provide and protect. This gives offspring the greatest chance at viability. It is a documented reproduction strategy called "sexual selection by female choice" and is most notable among species with concealed ovulation, or a fertile time that is not advertised to the male of the race.


Whether or not a gal wants children odds are good she will find her sex drive still dovetails with those traits her progenitors required.


Men who want the choicest females look for one who is likely to produce healthy offspring. i.e.: They like their ladies hot. While facial features and coloring vary by race, some indicators of "health," like figure, are nearly universal. An "ideal" female body shape, for example, demonstrates proportions that cross culture and race. The preferred ratio of a model's bust, hip, and thighs are the same on every continent. Except maybe Antarctica but there is no population to speak of there.

Then begins the demonstration of masculine desirability. This can be physical superiority but because we are social creatures other forms of power, such as wealth, can compensate. Hence, the "howcome men can get older and still be sexy" lament. Older men have amassed more wealth as a general rule. Nobody thinks the salt and pepper silver fox with food stamps is a catch. If he's driving a Mercedes, however, swoon.


I'm not saying this is universal or that we can't get off the reservation, just that it is already hardwired in a spectrum pattern with extremes at both ends. But it would go a long way towards explaining why we return, generation after generation, to stereotypes that most of us agree are outdated.


So, is it actually misogynistic to recognize these distinctions and stereotypes in our writing? I think no. Unoriginal, but not misogynistic. It crosses the line into anti-feminist when the characters are punished in some way for breaking out of traditional roles and I don't see that much in current fiction. Writing within a traditional role isn't the same thing as rejecting a non-traditional or even counter-culture one.


The biggest complaint about YA books is that most often the male character is the vampire, werewolf, supernatural whatever and the hapless damsel is either at his mercy or under his protection. In reality, the "supernatural" is just a crutch for "supermasculine." Most of the traits that come with the title are exaggerations of physical qualities we consider male: speed, strength, and sometimes aggression.


The uber masculine hero and the heroine who values strength and loyalty in her man are not going away because they lie at the center of the spectrum and appeal to the greatest number. Or lowest common denominator, if you want to look at it that way. As a value judgement, it seems harsh to hold it against society in general that we tend to look for our ideal mate in a romantic figure. We can stretch things a good bit- look at how many more of our heroines get to do a lot of thinking and even some saving (yay!) and how many emo vampires (boo!) are out there- but trying to reverse the role altogether and still produce a commodity that resonates is tricky business. No matter how much I tell myself I should, I really don't want to read the love story between the 98 pound weakling and She-Ra.


This is what the romance industry has known for years. It's also why they are growing while almost everyone else is not. The rare books that appeal to the mainstream without alienating the academics blend the lines but they don't completely erase them.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Observations from Salt Lake City

Two thirds of the tightest high school trio ever united over the weekend in Salt Lake City, Utah. My friend Jen and I haven't seen each other since my wedding nine years ago and I have never met her children so we had some catching up to do. During my visit I got to:

See Salt Lake City, which I've never done. It's gorgeous.

Shock a table full of Mormons by ordering (and consuming) two large carafes of hot sake. Fortunately, Mormons are more polite than teetotaling Baptists and refrained from praying for me on the spot.

Watch Alabama beat LSU.

Read a great book (Soulless by Gail Carriger. Go get it. Right now. I paid for my copy, FTC.).

Make chicken and dumplings at high altitude. It actually does make a difference. Who knew?

Observe the largest selection of licorice I have ever encountered. Apparently, licorice is big with the Mormons. Of equal interest to me was that the licorice was all manufactured by the Amish.

Count bicycles. There are lots.

Hang out with Jen, one of the coolest people on the planet, and remind her that her soon to be ex made a classic mistake. He married a chick way cooler than he is.

Regretably, I did NOT get to do thing I wanted to do most. Make the ex's ears bleed. Jen prudently neglected to tell me when he stopped by the house to pick up the kids. My only other opportunity would have been when he dropped them off. Of course I wouldn't have reamed him in front of his kids but I could have cornered him at the curb while they were safely in the house.

**The series of events that promted my visit is catalogued here.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Observations on the Cheestastic Eighties vs. The Modern Era

SyFy is running the 80's version of V since the updated one is coming to network television very soon. I loved the mini-series, but hey, I was in eighth grade and lacked sophistication. Catching it on the flip side of 2009 is just as good but for entirely different reasons. Reasons I'm certain do not represent the intentions of the original screenwriters. I find that upon reflection, V captured many wonderful eighties trends that were notable in other works.

198?: Women were equal to men. The gender neutral uniforms that fit the women much more snugly than their male counterparts demonstrate this fact.

2009: Women wear chick clothes because they want to look hot and that is just fine.

198?: No child was ever born whose parents understood him. Ever. In the eighties, parents sprung fully formed, with no childhood memories to lend empathy to their childrearing skills. The Breakfast Club said it best: "When you grow up, your heart dies." Even adult children bear the scars of the tumultuous parental/progeny relationship. They seek blue collar jobs that satisfy the soul rather than embrace the corporate ladder that consumes their materialistic progenitors.

2009: In YA fiction and entertainment, parents are well meaning but absent and bumbling. The modern teen may discuss his or her sex life with the extremely tolerant parent but probably prefers not to because of the ick factor. Youth today indulgently care for their parents who are hopeless outside the workplace. This is convenient when a girl with a policeman father has her boyfriend spend the night EVERY NIGHT.

198?: A midget who frolics each time a plane lands on the island is the height of tolerance and understanding. Good white people adopt black kids despite social pressure because, darn it, it's just the right thing to do. White people like "Benson" and "The Jeffersons" so race relations are good. Geeks haven't really entered the scene, just nerds. They are smart computer whiz kids with misunderstood poetic souls. Aside from the news and the AIDs crisis, homosexuality does not exist except as a cruel high school slur. ("I thought only pansies wore neckties." Anyone remember that gem?)

2009: Everybody has a gay best friend. The gay person is important and cooler than everyone else but not the lead. ( Will and Grace exception duly noted.) Lesbians are always bisexual and hot. Black people are also cooler than everyone else, sometimes the lead, but never the geek. Geeks can be cool but they must be quirky, caucasian, and routinely err in their fashion choices.

198?: Kids from the 'hood have good hearts and no opportunities until someone more privileged gives them a chance. Most people stereotype them and treat them badly.

2009: Erm, well, this one hasn't changed much.

198?: The villian is very attractive and beyond redemption unless they are a small town sherrif and then they are fat. They like to use phrases like "insipid fool" unless they are a small town sherrif and then they call everyone "boy."

2009: It isn't really fair to label someone. People have conflicts. Picking sides is arbitrary and judgmental. If the character is a demon, vampire, or werewolf, they are definitely not the bad guy.

Favorite stereotypes? Thoughts?

Friday, October 23, 2009

Caramel Sauce and Babies

He smells like caramel.

I let them have caramel sauce with sliced apples for dessert. She got it in her hair and it clung through bath time. She smelled delicious and had the most adorable, sticky curls for bedtime. I'll deal with it tomorrow.

He looks like an angel when he sleeps. He's beautiful, the visage pregnant mothers the world over dream of while they wait. Hell on wheels awake, but so perfect now when the world is still and dark and he has finally given up the day. The only beauty he lacks in sleep is cornflower blue eyes that reveal every plot and mischief that crosses that hyperkinetic brain.

I wonder if angels really smell like caramel. If they don't, they should.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Midlife crisis

Somthing's different. She isn't sure what it is, exactly, but equilibrium is gone. They've worked together for so long, toward the same objective. Things should be good. He's gotten what he wanted. Maybe it's her turn to work on herself.

It's a little scary that they cashed in their entire retirement for him to open his own law firm, but it's a calculated risk. They are near forty. If they wait any longer it will be too late.

Maybe they got married too young. So many of their friends at BYU got married at the same age, though, and they seem fine. Maybe she's just hit her midlife crisis. Suck it up, Jen. Deal with it. You've got three great kids and a husband who works hard.

Her therapist helps her reach the understanding that she is not the only one. Many women do not feel completely fulfilled as homemakers and caregivers. She's always been a runner, she keeps in shape and runs marathons with friends, but her brain is hungry. She would have gone to med school if she were younger, if there weren't three kids. When there was still time for that she was putting him through law school in New York. Then they moved to Boulder for his great job. He worked such long hours. If she were a med student or a resident neither of them would have had the time for their marriage, their growing family. She reads a lot.

I loved Boulder. I wish we'd never left.

But the siren call of Salt Lake City, a community of people who believe as they do, another great job, it was important to him. Their daughter is fourteen now. She'll be dating soon.

Salt Lake City is kind of fun. She remembers being in school. She wants that feeling again. Learning new things and building knowledge specific to a purpose.

"What do you need a job for? You have a great house and three kids, Jen. You have a responsibility to your family. You have plenty of outside interests. You do stuff with your friends, you take running trips and go to concerts. I make enough money that you don't need to work."

He doesn't understand it but he knows her mind is set. She always had an independent streak. It's largely the reason they've been in marriage counseling. Whatever. It's her midlife crisis. She starts nursing school.

Nursing school is a rush. School has changed so much! Everything is on computer now. Assignments get turned in online. There aren't enough hours in the day to keep up with running. She misses running with D and her husband.

D and Brad keep running. They decide a vacation would be fun. The families can go together. Their six year old boys are best friends. The brief trip is a bright spot, a communion of families and a respite from study. Rejuvenating.

Back at home, though, things still aren't right. Equilibrium is gone. Is it really about nursing school? The kids are happy, supper gets cooked.

The August cell phone bill looks funny. There are hundreds of text messages to just one number. It's D's number.

Brad admits to "inappropriate involvement with D." Translated from lawyer to English it sounds like an affair but he swears it's not been physical. Like that makes it better. He agrees that the right thing to do is cut off contact. They take a trip, just the two of them. She's working hard to address his complaints, to use what she's learned in marriage counseling to fill whatever need he has. New York was fun, but in Paris she knows he's not really there.

They come home and she knows he's texting D. She confronts him. He nearly convinces her she is crazy. After all, she was the one with depression issues, right? In the end, though, he comes clean.

"I love her. I'm not giving her up. I'm leaving."

So he does. She puts his clothes out the back door for him to pick up in the morning and deadbolts the door. He's gone.

It's his midlife crisis. A sports car or hair plugs would have been cheaper. Whatever. She is done.

D is still living with her husband and two kids. Brad is living in his new house around the block.

Jen, well Jen is finally living.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Felicitous vs. Cantankerous

Please excuse me just this once while I B.R.A.G. on my kids. We play lots of music, greatly varied, at home and both kids enjoy. We dance and shriek like banshees for about 30 minutes of each day. The two year old has gotten to what I like to call the "stoner" level of music appreciation:

"Like song, Mama!"

or

"Pretty!"

Now. The five year old. Oh, the five year old. The bane and joy of my existence, he is. Tonight, we started with Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 Chorale (Ode to Joy). His response to the music?

"This is felicitous!"

After switching to Bach we spent a few minutes of picking out instruments on Brandenburg Concertos ("That's a flute! I hear violins!"). Then Toccata and Fugue ensues with its solemn organ tones.

"Mama, this one is cantankerous."

Can't spell 'em yet but he can sure use 'em in a sentence.

Thank you for your indulgence. I will try to return to more scholarly or adult themed (as in, if I'd never had kids I'd still care) topics later this week.

If I won the lottery

The coolest thing about writers has got to be the "What would you do if you won the lottery?" response.

Everybody else, in ascending value judgement order:

1. "I'd quit my job tomorrow."
2. "I'd quit my job tomorrow and volunteer somewhere."
3. "I'd definitely keep my job." (But you totally know they wouldn't.)

But nobody ever says, "I'd get to work earlier and stay later since I would have the freedom to do so."

Writers, published, unpublished, more money than God, impoverished, brilliant, or kind of sucky:

"I'd write more."