Sophie M. Lavoie

Love, Honor, and Betray

brittany — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Before I started to read it, this book held lots of promise; the cover tells of the author’s previous books being on the New York Times bestseller list. Unfortunately, I had not had the pleasure of reading any other of Kimberla Lawson Roby’s books. Since reading Love, Honor, and Betray, I have come to realize that one of its characters, the Reverend Curtis Black, was at the centre of a series of an eight books by the same author. This series forms a sort of soap opera narrative around this character and his family that has apparently had quite a bit of success. Lawson Roby is certainly a very prolific writer, having published fifteen books since 1997 and been the recipient of many prizes at the African American Literary Awards Show. Her books have a cult following.

Since reading the book, I have realized that I am perhaps not the best person to critique it. My feminist bent is too strong to not be offended by much of what the novel contains. The easy good versus evil dichotomy is maintained throughout the novel, with the main character, Charlotte, painted as a despicable woman and completely vilified by the author to suit the narrative that centers on the “good” Reverend. For example, when the Reverend’s ex-fling passes away, he wants to take in his baby daughter, Curtina, and raise her in his family. However, his wife Charlotte openly hates this child and spends the entire book treating her badly, until the end when she realizes she may lose her husband. While multiple women chase after the handsome Reverend, he stays faithful to his wife while she cheats on him with not just one stranger picked up in a bar, but with a former lover whom she reconnects with on Facebook.

The action in the novel never stops. There are naughty photos of Charlotte sent by cell phone to blackmail her into a subservient sexual relationship. There is a crazed paedophile holding teenagers hostage in a high school. There is a spectacular car crash that almost costs the Reverend his life.

All the characters are attractive one-dimensional mannequins who live an opulent way of life. This lifestyle is probably eons away from any of Lawson Roby’s readers. Charlotte gets back at her husband by maxing out his credit cards ($25,000) at the shopping centre, her son with the Reverend, Matthew drives a brand new luxury car at the age of seventeen, and they have a fulltime housekeeper. The ultimate cliché was the Obama-style fist bump the Reverend and Matthew give each other often in the novel.

Perhaps if I had read the previous novels, this would be a more interesting story; I have been known to follow soap operas in the past. But, the only thing that kept me turning the pages was the fact that I couldn’t believe that it could be any worse. Towards the end of the book, I was able to conceive of a redemptive factor through the fact that Lawson Roby’s publisher had included discussion questions for reading groups. Perhaps the purpose of the book is to discuss its transparent dichotomy and its one-dimensional characters?

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, March 15th 2011

Women’s Activism in Latin America and the Caribbean: Engendering Social Justice, Democratizing Citizenship

farhana — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Nathalie Lebon, Elizabeth Maier

Rutgers University Press

One of the aims of the groundbreaking work Women’s Activism in Latin America and the Caribbean is the diffusion of the ideas of these mostly Latin-American scholars to a larger audience, thus the original 2006 Spanish-language volume’s translation and subsequent adaptation and expansion into English.

However, it seems contradictory to the spirit of the project to start reviewing it without mentioning the authors here. Besides excellent introductory essays by the editors listed above, this tome includes articles by the following Latin American and Caribbean academics who, for the most part, have been conscientiously translated from the original language: Myriam Merlet, Graciela di Marco, Norma Mogrovejo, Montserrat Sagot, María Luisa Tarrés, and Morena Herrera. The volume also includes interviews done by Graciela di Marco, and articles by scholars such as Karen Kampwirth, Ana Lorena Carrillo, Norma Stoltz Chinchilla, Kia Lily Caldwell, Mercedes Prieto, Andrea Pequeño, Clorinda Cominao, Alejandra Flores, Gina Maldonado, Cathy A. Rakowski, Gioconda Espina, Fiona MacAulay, Marysa Navarro, María Consuelo Mejía, Virginia Vargas, Marta Núñez Sarmiento, Helen Safa, Alice Colón, and Sara Poggio.

The foreword by Sonia E. Alvarez sums up succinctly why this book is so important to those of us studying questions of gender and activism in Latin America and the Caribbean. According to her reading, it is “brimming with compelling conceptual innovations, fresh empirical insights, and provocative political analysis, setting new parameters for future studies of feminist and other social movements in politics” in the region. There is no denying her expert judgment. However, the fact that this study provides a voice for the women listed above is what brings the innovative aspect, since many of these women have now been working in their respective countries for years in their own languages. Instead of all the “old regulars” working in the field in what the editors refer to as the Global North, this volume allows for an “inside look” into some (an infinite part, unfortunately) of the research that is ongoing in this region, at the same time as it allows for contrasting and/or other voices to come fill its pages. This achievement must be celebrated. Thus, for example, Graciela di Marco provides a voice for founding members of the Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, Nora Cortiñas and Estela Carlotto, more than thirty years into their continued battle.

Although some countries’ movements are still not included in this type of volume (Bolivia, Panama, and Honduras come to mind), the attempt made to be as inclusive as possible is one which is on the right track with making visible research on gender-based issues, especially with regard to race, religion, sexual preferences and social classes. However, there is no way to ignore the magnitude of providing a space to the women’s indigenous groups from Ecuador (for example), given that they have only had the right to vote in their own countries for less than forty years. And, significantly, this is what this volume is about- taking a larger look at women’s activism in the region and appreciating the scope of what has advanced in the past years for the very diverse women’s movement, given the ebb and flow of the political, social and economic circumstances in the world.

Regrettably, the situation has actually gone backwards in some countries such as Nicaragua where the women’s movement has suffered significant losses in the past years, as Kampwirth argues in her chapter, especially with the still controversial therapeutic abortion debate which has been ongoing in the country. While some countries have moved from what were seemingly viable feminist movements towards what Kampwirth deems as “antifeminism” or backlash movements, some are only experiencing nascent incursions into this activist domain (what Lebon fittingly calls “activism with unexpected actors”) and still reject the “feminist” label.

Among the twenty excellent chapters, of particular note in the volume, given last January’s earthquake and more recent cholera outbreak in Haiti, is Myriam Merlet’s article on women’s citizenship in that country. It provides a remarkable glimpse into the leaps and bounds that were being made by women leading up to this disaster and, perhaps, provides some inherent insight into how some of the country’s problems could eventually be resolved from within.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, January 11th 2011

Los Canallas (Podría Ser Peor)

annette — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 02:00:00 +0000

Directed by Cristina Franco

INCINE

Los Canallas are a jolly group of scoundrels, featured in this film, written, shot, edited and promoted by a gang of enthusiastic Acting and Directing students. These young people make up the very first promotion of the newly minted film program in Ecuador. This strange and stimulating film received third place at the Montreal World Film Festival in 2008, for the best opera prima, and is now available to English-speaking audiences (and well subtitled, be it said in passing).

Reminiscent of similar films from other Latin American countries (such as Uruguayan directors Pablo Stoll y Juan Pablo Rebella’s film entitled 25 Watts from 2001), this innovative feature is a fresh look at youth culture in Ecuador, a subject that certain viewing cultures, Western and North-Americans in particular, are not often party to. Innovatively filmed and edited, it is presented as the first feature-length film by the young Cristina Franco and her classmates–they are too numerous to name, but all fulfill at least one role (and up to four) in the acting and various tasks associated with making the film. I mention Franco because she has a central role and is quite entertaining as the young girl whose failed suicide attempts frame the first part of the film.

Centered around three separate but interlinked sections, the film speaks to the general problems of youth in Ecuador. The first section entitled, “We all love Helena so much” features a funny cameo by established Ecuadorian actress Ruth Basante as the grandmother who, in one of the funniest scenes of the film, walks in on her granddaughter’s prospective boyfriend as he is in the restroom, relieving himself on Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Not the subtlest message in the film, but amusing nonetheless.

“There are low blows in life”, the second section of the film, features an intense boxer, shot in close ups, who is definitely not meant for the sport. Perhaps the weakest part in terms of writing, this section is however beautifully shot.

In the third section (and ironically, the darkest in terms of shots), entitled “Those whom you meet, those who stay, those who are,” speaks to some of the difficulties facing the students who often leave for other countries where Latin American cinema may prosper: Argentina is mentioned. This note is not a coincidence since Argentina has recently had one of the most vibrant cinemas in Latin America, with a win for Best Foreign Film at the Oscars in 2010 for The Secret in Their Eyes (directed by Juan Jose Campanella).

Shot around the stunning and beautifully captured city of Quito, we must lament that the students did not make more extensive use of their environment. This film brings to the forefront the problems and class differences which are inherent to this society culture. It also tackles some taboo subjects such as masturbation, religion (sometimes cleverly intertwined), voyeurism, poverty and vagrancy. It is an interesting and quirky first film, well worth a look at, despite its often shocking and occasionally crude content.

This candid attempt by the students to make a film (or three) should not be overlooked since it bodes well for the future of cinema in Ecuador. Let’s hope that not all of the graduating class has to move to Argentina to find work!

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, September 23rd 2010

Beauty

admin — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Raphael Selbourne

Tindal Street Press

Beauty is the outstanding first novel of British author Raphael Selbourne, winner of the prestigious 2009 Costa First Novel Award (formerly known as the Whitbread Literary Awards). The novel’s plot is seemingly predictable–an illiterate girl runs away from an abusive home where she had been forced to marry a much older mullah (religious man) at the age of fourteen. However, Selbourne’s pen transforms the story into an insightful glimpse into British-style multiculturalism and immigration, from the point of view of a young woman. Beauty Begum’s tragic tale is one of a young immigrant woman doubly alienated by her family and her environment.

Beauty's timely publication in 2009 is worthy of note, given the paranoia and terror surrounding the tragic London bombings in 2005 and the overt racial profiling that has been ongoing in the Western world. Writer and filmmaker Hanif Kureishi (himself a Whitbread prizewinner) had previously focused in on the immigrant experience and depicted the struggles of Muslim immigrant families in Britain in his screenplays for My Beautiful Laundrette and My Son the Fanatic, for example. Selbourne’s novel can be seen as a valuable continuation of these themes.

Although Beauty never directly addresses the reasons and context for the racism it exposes, it presents us with diverse xenophobic scenarios that are all equally deserving of consideration. It also brings to light the very complex circumstances of women immigrants, domestic abuse, and the everyday struggle of women who are caught between lived tradition and modernity. The author, previously a student of Islamic Studies, is clearly knowledgeable about the topic, a fact that counteracts any reservations we might have about the author’s being just another patriarchal gaze on the “subordinate.”

Selbourne’s secondary characters are rich in detail and complexity. From Mark, the gruff bloke who takes Beauty into his dog-infested home, to Peter, the newly single, perverted neighbor who fantasizes about seducing her, all the characters are cleverly constructed. However, Selbourne’s tour de force lies in his depiction of the feminine psyche. Beauty is very much a convincing female character, of the depth and quality that I had previously only encountered in Roddy Doyle’s Paula Spencer from The Woman Who Walked into Doors. The writer’s sensitivity is key to developing a plausible protagonist.

Raphael Selbourne establishes himself in the proud tradition of English-language writers who manage to paint realistic and tender portraits of specific social groups. Having lived in West Midlands teaching English, he captures the much-ridiculed West Midlands accent in his writing in the same way Roddy Doyle captured the Irish brogue in his novels. Selbourne’s Bangladesh-born Beauty speaks a drawl that is perfectly representative of the West Midlands (UK) setting of the novel. Furthermore, the author scatters Bengali terms in the novel, such as Beauty’s interjections, or explanations for her reactions, thoughts, or actions. Admittedly, Beauty is occasionally an exercise in reading; one must decipher, literally, the spoken language that the author has committed to the page. However, do not let this dissuade you from reading this engaging and thoughtful novel.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, June 27th 2010

29: A Novel

admin — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Adena Halpern

Touchstone

If there is one book that will certainly be made into a successful film, it is this one. All the ingredients are there for an entertaining feature-length romp. The plot is quite simple: a seventy-five year old grandmother celebrates her birthday and, while blowing out her candles, makes a seemingly unattainable wish, to be twenty-nine again. Through the magic of Adena Halpern’s imagination, that is exactly what happens the next morning, with the ensuing hilarity and zany situations–including some saucy details!–which make this day-long trek through Ellie Jerome’s “new” life quite an exciting one.

The “flashback/forward to your own life” cinematographic genre is not a new one, and many films (that I admittedly have not seen) have capitalized on this popularity, such as 17 Again with teen heartthrob Zac Efron and 13 Going on 30, starring Jennifer Garner. Like Halpern’s book, this type of movie capitalizes on the public’s regrets and fantasies about our own lives. Who hasn’t had one of those “what if” moments or wished they could opt out of a difficult situation? Ellie, the main character of Halpern’s novel, upon seeing her granddaughter Lucy at her party, wants to live her life differently than she had: marrying young, a man with whom she does not think she was really in love, and always doing what was expected of her as a lady. And, for those of you who will read the book, or see the film version, I will not give away the ending or moral of the story (of course, it contains one!).

Amidst the book’s seeming superficiality and overt sentimentality, there lies a very real social phenomenon. As our elderly population grows and lives longer, how are older women reacting to the societal changes going on around them? How do they reconcile their lived experience with that of their descendants? Given her young age, Halpern manages to convey realistically the mental state of the “granny” figures in the book and their relations to the younger women and men. She also skilfully paints the granny-granddaughter relationship and promotes inter-generational connections and understanding amongst women.

A former columnist for Marie Claire magazine, Halpern has previously authored two books, the fashion memoir Target Underwear and a Vera Wang Gown and the novel The Ten Best Days of My Life. She also holds a Masters degree in screenwriting, a fact that shines through in this new novel. A film version cannot be far behind. My bets are on actresses Glenn Close and Amanda Seyfried to play the aged Ellie and the younger Ellie. Bets are now on!

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, June 26th 2010

Stance: Ideas about Emotion, Style, and Meaning for the Study of Expressive Culture

admin — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Harris M. Berger

Wesleyan University Press

My critical theory class from university seemed far away when I started reading Harris M. Berger’s study, Stance. In that course, Reception Theory was probably the most difficult one to grasp, with the most theoretically abstract readings, readings for the most part founded in philosophy. Realistically, the world does not know enough about the brain or perception, and cultural context varies considerably from person to person. Joe can like or dislike something but Jane’s tastes are different; subjectivity is the key to this experience, and thus Berger is attempting to explain a very complex phenomenon. To look at subjectivity through reason, what Berger is attempting to do, seems a daunting task.

Harris M. Berger approaches these questions with gusto, however, and for that I must give him credit. His grasp of key intellectuals and their theories are evident in the text. The purpose of his analysis is to explore the larger issues associated with a person‘s “lived experience,” of diverse phenomenon, and especially music. Music is central to Berger’s work as a professor of music and performance studies in Texas.

Luckily for readers, the author is not just diligent about defining the terms he uses but also writes with acuity and finesse. For example, for him “stance is the manner in which the person grapples with a text, performance, practice, or item of expressive culture to bring it into experience.” Stance is a much more elegant word than posture, position or interpretation but all three refer to the work that is done in the reception of an occurrence. Berger is also generous with examples in an attempt to contextualize some of the more complicated passages. The narration of some of his own experiences is quite fascinating, and the first-person perspective, although it contrasts with the very formal philosophical discussion, alleviates our experience of the book.

A word of warning: I believe that Berger’s study would be almost impenetrable to someone who is not an academic (or very well versed in philosophy) because of its philosophical nature and Berger’s phenomenological approach. For neophytes, phenomenology is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “an approach that concentrates on the study of consciousness and the objects of direct experience.” For this reason, Berger’s book needs to be read with leisure and much concentration. However, if one is willing to make the effort, Berger’s study contains many insights into the multifaceted nature of what Berger calls the “lived experience.”

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, June 4th 2010

Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature

admin — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Suzanne Bost

Fordham University Press

The pockmarks on the Aztec figure on the cover of Suzanne Bost’s Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature are a reminder of the proximity of disease, illness, and pain to death. Chicana artist Maya González’ painting is in fact entitled Death Enthroned, and serves as a constant thematic backdrop to Bost’s book since it embodies many of the themes that Bost will deal with in her study of Chicana feminist literature: Aztec culture, illness, death, religion, and woman’s precarious position in the intersection of these elements.

Bost’s study is not the first to examine Chicana feminist literature, as many readers will note (many such studies have been reviewed by FR). In effect, the three authors Bost chooses to analyse are part of the established cannon of Chicana literature, with Gloria Anzaldúa being the face of said literature with twice as many critical articles written on her (over 200 in the MLA directory as of April 1, 2010). Both of the other writers, Cherríe Moraga and Ana Castillo, have also established themselves in the last twenty years or so. All three have been studied within other “literary labels,” such as Queer Studies for Cherríe Moraga and Ecocriticism for Ana Castillo, for example.

Separately, all three authors have been examined under the relatively new label of Disability Studies, but the intersection of Disability Studies with Chicana Feminist Literary Studies is a novelty, which Bost (and other academics) sees as appealing. In the contextualization of her analysis, Bost finds it fitting to differentiate studies on the Female Body (which have been done for each of the writers mentioned) with Disability. This is perhaps one of the most interesting theoretical parts of her analysis since the line separating the two is very fine: pain, illness, and disability are all part of the bodily construction and seem inseparable. Thus, Bost’s analysis is enlightening as to what exactly is new in her approach: a Chicana identity rooted in the body, but which transcends it, as her use of the Spanish term encarnación (incarnation) in the title signals both a figurative and literal embodiment. Bost specifically writes that she is interested in “the ways in which other corporeal qualities—ones that are not genetic, visible, or already politically inscribed as an assumed axis of oppression/privilege—upend the familiar forms of identity.”

Before moving to individual chapters examining each author, Bost explores the context of identity and grounds Chicana identity in the Aztec traditions. The author is very thorough in her reminder of all the Aztec symbolism throughout the four chapters and, for those of us who need a refresher, there is an abundance of useful information. What Bost terms as a hagiographic (reverential towards the religious figures) study of Aztec culture is also useful in that it establishes an unconventional (read non-Christian) relationship to pain, illness, death, and their relationship to representation in that tradition. Furthermore, in this chapter Bost chooses to iconize Frida Kahlo as one of the central contextualizing figures for the Chicana disability studies as she epitomizes both analytical elements, as well as being a significant influence on all three authors.

All three chapters on the individual authors are well written and quite detailed. However, one can but lament the fact that Bost did not take the opportunity to write a proper conclusion to her study (one that would have reiterated the more direct links between the writers and come to some consensus about the use of Disability Studies as a useful tool to examine Chicana Feminist Literature). Although I personally find her introduction of the Chicana artists Maya González and Diane Gamboa in her conclusion to be fascinating and informative, it is Chicana Feminist Literature that her study chooses to focus on, and it would have been interesting to see if Bost had found relevant links to other Chicana writers. With the prominence of the Chicana women artists and the inclusion of the twelve beautiful color plates in her book, it is almost fitting to suggest that the book be renamed Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Representation.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, April 22nd 2010

The Taste for Civilization: Food, Politics, and Civil Society

admin — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Janet A. Flammang

University of Illinois Press

At a time when Western society is becoming more and more dependent on cheap and rapid sustenance of often dubious nutritional value, Janet Flammang’s study is an important reminder of both the way it was and the way it perhaps should be. In The Taste for Civilization, Flammang sets out to present what she calls “table activities” as central to respect, citizenship, and a greater good. Inevitably (because of both the topic and her expertise in Women’s Studies), the author’s analysis explicitly and logically makes gender a key factor in this construction. This researcher’s previous book was an analysis of the importance of studying women’s movements at all levels in political science, entitled Women’s Political Voice: How Women are Transforming the Practice and Study of Politics. As politics evolve, the “politics of food” could be said to be what is being examined in this new work.

This attractive volume (the cover photo is especially lovely) is divided into five parts and thirteen chapters, including extensive notes, a bibliography, and a handy index. An historical analysis of meals and food preparation in (principally) the Western world is included, and Flammang shows demonstrates her extensive knowledge of a wide array of topics from ancient Greek philosophy, to the Enlightenment thinkers, anthropology, sociology, and modern psychological studies. Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, and Freud are all called upon in the text, whether it is to define society or to explain women’s role in the feeding process.

Flammang begins with the premise that “table activities” (in other words, “everyday food practices” or “mealtime rituals of food preparation, serving, and dining”) are central to socialization, and therefore tackles the conundrum of women’s shifting position in this activity (from traditional gender roles, for example) and the possible consequences on Western civilization (the end of communication, discussion, and consensus?). Naturally, the author does not pass judgment on women for their lack of investment in the rituals (enough do!), but rather examines this important social change as it presents itself and proposes possible solutions to this important shift in practice. Interestingly and importantly, the author also analyzes shifting “food practices” along racial and class lines in several chapters.

Flammang also draws the topic away from the domestic sphere and discusses food-related issues that are regional, national, and international. Her discussions of the effect on North American society of certain food stuffs, like the use of bleached white flour or processes such as canning, are intriguing. Along with testimonials from the general population, she includes cultural references to changes brought about by immigration, including the semantic importance of food for certain groups (e.g., “breaking bread”). In chapter ten, entitled “Delicious Revolution,” she examines Alice Water, California chef and cookbook author, who has also extended her revolutionary food philosophy to schools where she is a vocal advocate for healthy meals in schools for all children.

Surprisingly, Julia Child, is not mentioned explicitly by Flammang, despite having been again prominent in the media since the 2009 movie retracing certain aspects of her life. At times, the subtitles of the chapters are sometimes puzzling and the author cannot avoid a certain amount of repetition (French philosopher Brillat-Savarin seems to be a favourite). Despite these remarks, this thorough analysis is exceptionally well written, and of interest to anyone who has even a remote curiosity as to the link between food and civilization in Western society.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, April 11th 2010

Acts of Narrative Resistance: Women's Autobiographical Writings in the Americas

admin — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Laura J. Beard

University of Virginia Press

Laura Beard’s study of women’s autobiography in its many forms, Acts of Narrative Resistance, is quite unique. There has to my knowledge never been a thorough single author study written which connected and compared such a variety of autobiographical texts from the Americas in Spanish, Portuguese, and English. Beard’s study focuses on women’s autobiography in Argentina, Brazil, and what she calls Indigenous Canada (some would argue that the term “Indigenous” in her appellation is superfluous, but we won’t get into that thorny discussion).

Many studies have been published on these genres in those individual countries, studies which have also pointed out some of the central themes brought forth by Beard concerning the difficulties and challenges associated with studying autobiography and its associated forms. All these topics are well summed up by Beard in her analysis, in which she identifies these narratives “as autobiographical fiction, fictional autobiography, autobiographical novels, semi-autobiographical novels, memoirs, and testimonios.” “Testimonial writings,” as they are called in Spanish, are essential to any study of autobiography in the Americas and quite hotly debated. Many questions are implicit in the study of the testimonio: authorship (who wrote the book?), veracity (did that person tell a truthful story?), and a (sometimes questionable) literary value (can this story be considered literature and/or women’s writing?).

The first two parts of Beard’s study involve cross-cultural analysis. All four authors written about in the first two parts are well known in the Latin American “feminist” canon. Part 1 examines the writing of Helena Parente Cunha of Brazil and Argentina’s Luisa Futoransky. In Part 2, Beard discusses Ana María Shúa of Argentina and Nélida Piñon of Brazil. Parente Cunha was translated and published in English in 1989 by the University of Texas Press while Piñon was published in English only ten years later. While Shúa was published in translation in 1998, Futoransky has only had two translations published in English. All four authors are widely studied by academics worldwide. Part 3 is entirely consecrated to the indigenous writers of Canada, Lee Maracle and Shirley Sterling. Although recognized in Canada and examined in recent texts focused on indigenous literature, these native women are still much less studied than the four other women in Beard's book.

Beard’s analytical concept of “Narrative Resistance” is not new, since one of the founding principles of feminist criticism is to examine (all) women’s narratives as new and separate voices in a literary world long dominated by patriarchal tradition. However, Beard coins a neologism to define the works of these six women: natiobiography, defined as the works of women “presenting the (fictionalized) histories of their families as the histories of their nations.”

Perhaps one of the limitations of the study is that Beard did not attempt to draw more explicit parallels between the writing of the indigenous Canadian women and that of the South American writers; the indigenous women, Maracle and Sterling, are once again somewhat marginalized from the main comparisons, quite exceptional, perhaps, when likened to their mostly “white middle-class” counterparts. Although Parente Cunha claims possible African ancestry, Shua Shúa and Futoransky are of Jewish origin while Piñon is of Galician extraction. Indigenous women are once again the doubly-colonized as opposed to the other women writers examined, in most cases “colonizers of,” or immigrants to, the American continent.

Nevertheless, Beard’s study, well structured and meticulously explained, is obligatory reading for those interested in or working on (the concept of) autobiography. It is well-written and highly readable and demonstrates the significance of telling stories for women.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, March 26th 2010

The Bathers

admin — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 16:59:00 +0000

By Jennette Williams

Duke University Press

A collection of striking black and white stills, The Bathers is not just about the theme of bathers, but more importantly about the way women are portrayed and perceived. Winner of the Center for Documentary Studies/Honickman First Book Prize in Photography, Jennette Williams states that her initial project was: “to photograph without sentiment and objectication (sic) women daring enough to stand before [her] camera.” The photos illustrate that there is no doubt that she has achieved her goal. Despite being a volume of photographs of the feminine body (all except one shot), this oeuvre compounds in one tome the exact opposite of what most modern-day mainstream media presents of the objectified female figure.

In William’s lauded collection of photos, the female forms are shown in all their plump softness, reflecting the reigning ambiance of the collection: a peaceful reflection that can be seen not only in the visages of the women represented but also in the muted colours of the platinum prints. In the faces of these Hungarian and Turkish women, we find the same gaze that existed in Auguste Renoir’s early twentieth century paintings of “his” bathing subjects. It is probably this mysterious contemplation that explains artists’ fascination for bathers as subjects: a dream-like placidity and sense of inner calm. The prominence of rolls, folds, dimples, body hair, bellies, and nipples is natural although sometimes veiled by the often-foggy images; William also manipulates light and shadow expertly; one can almost feel the cocooning humidity of the public baths.

The representation of this serenity contrasts with the modern stereotypical depiction of the female body, the Tyra Banks-coined squint–or “smizing”–and purely angular (sometimes skeletal) silhouettes that are so coveted by most of the globe’s population. There are few shots in Williams' collection that do not display flesh in a way that is completely foreign to North American media (birthplace of the Playboy Bunny!). These “Cosmo-type” bodies are rare in the book, and even so-called “imperfect” bodies such as the very controversial silhouette of “plus-sized” (U.S. size 12-14!) are few. Most of the women have strong rounded figures that stand out in the stark detailing of the photographs. You’ll remember twenty-year-old model Lizzie Miller’s charmingly rounded tummy from a recent issue of Glamour magazine, yet the magazine’s most recent issue still provides us with advice on how to dress ten pounds thinner.

This attractive volume is thought-provoking because it defies stereotypical gender norms and photo enthusiasts will also find it to be a very stunning collection of images.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, February 6th 2010

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

admin — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By David Rieff, Susan Sontag

Picador

When reading fictionalized journals, one never experiences the sense of the guilt that results from a real intrusion into someone’s private thoughts and personal life. The fictive writer simply does not exist. When the journal being read belongs to someone who has had a very real public persona, the reader will always experience a few uncomfortable moments. In reading Susan Sontag’s journals, this feeling is amplified tenfold. Firstly, these are the journals of a young woman who eventually became a famous writer and intellectual—the journals start when Sontag is only fourteen years of age. Secondly, the fact that her son, editor and author David Rieff, edited the journals for publication and glimpsed his mother’s private garden is a bit daunting.

From the outset, the thorny question of the dual son-editor role that David Rieff plays should be addressed. Any editor would have chosen to trim down the journals, which span sixteen years of Sontag’s life. This period, and the resulting length of the journals, would be excessive for any publication, and Rieff plans to issue two other tomes covering the rest of her personal writing. In choosing to publish the journals in the first place, the decision to “censure” some of its parts seems questionable. Censure is a term Rieff clearly rejects, citing “the literary dangers and moral hazards of such an enterprise.” But, how could he not let his own emotions act as filters to his mother’s journals’ contents? Rieff sometimes selects “a few representative entries,” while other times he omits complete sections intentionally (as with Sontag’s notes about her trip to Italy) and includes thoughts that had been redacted in the original journals by Sontag herself. Inexplicably for someone so prolific in her journal-keeping, there is a notable absence of notebooks for the years 1951-1952, the years Sontag was first married.

Sontag’s journals were clearly not meant for an audience, contrary to some journals of other famous authors. In his (often moving) introduction, Rieff recognizes that his “decision [to publish] certainly violates [his mother’s] privacy.” The notebooks consist of Sontag’s private thoughts and experiences, and also of random lists, facts, and information. They were most certainly kept by the author to remind herself of some of these pieces of information: films seen, books read, or to be read. It could be argued that the fact that she abbreviates some of her lovers’ names meant she was concerned about possible readers (or snoops) and she also codes some words/ideas with an “X” which Reiff does not (cannot?) interpret.

Sontag’s journals provide some fascinating insight into the author’s development from late adolescence into adulthood, and provide rare glimpses into very private aspects of her life: her homosexuality, her divorce, and various other life experiences. Her “feelings” and personal insights, which we normally associate with a personal journal, are only a minor element in the journals, but probably what most readers will seek the most in her private writings. Although much of the material starts off with a date and the editor provides some guidance in deciphering the entries (possible locations, for example), one only gets the sense, but for brief moments, that we are “along for the ride” with Sontag. As all who have attempted to write journals know, the writing is often sporadic, linked to decisive moments in life and/or strong emotions. For Sontag, as they are for most people, these notable periods were the beginnings of her studies in university and of her writing, her homosexual adventures, the birth and raising of her son, and some of her travels. These snapshots show a different side of Sontag, one that does not always match her public persona. She questions her reactions to love and carnal pleasures, motherhood, marriage, and filial relationships, among other things.

Usually, the publication of journals or correspondence takes place many years after a person’s passing. Sontag passed on in 2004 and this publication allows us to discover another side of her, since the journals were the vehicle for, as she called it, her “sense of selfhood.”

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, February 3rd 2010

The Cuban Revolution (1959-2009): Relations with Spain, the European Union, and the United States

admin — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Joaquín Roy

Palgrave MacMillan

Joaquín Roy’s study is, to my knowledge, the most comprehensive attempt to define Cuba’s relationship to the Western World (Europe and the U.S.) in the past fifty years. There is no question of its timely publication—to coincide with the fifty year anniversary of the Cuban Revolution (1959-2009). Indeed, this is a moment when the world is questioning the ability of this small island nation to remain independent and politically isolated while in permanent conflict with the most powerful nation in the world and only 90 miles from its coast. How on earth did Castro’s Cuba survive? Why hasn’t it, like many other Latin American nations fallen prey to either an insidious or explicit United-States sponsored decline? In Nicaragua, the Sandinistas certainly did (1990), and in Chile, Salvador Allende did, almost twenty years before (1973). What specifically makes Cuba exceptional?

Roy is very well placed to deal with these questions since he is the author of more than thirty books on the European Union (EU), Cuba, and the U.S.’ diplomatic relations and policies. His study Cuba, the United States, and the Helms-Burton Doctrine: International Reactions previously explored some of the larger points that he develops in this more recent tome.

At a time when left-leaning governments are being elected in many Latin American countries and seemingly coming together, Roy’s analysis is precious. It details the ebb and flow of an ever-shifting diplomacy in great detail, ranging from the specifics of economic aid from individual countries or from the EU, to the intricate rapport between high level officials, the “butterfly-effects” of diplomacy—if ever there was one in the political sphere.

Roy’s study reviews the notorious aspects of the Cuban diplomacy, such as the Helms-Burton Law (Cuban embargo, or “blockade” [bloqueo] as the Cubans call it), and adds detail to this bigger picture. Because Cuba’s independence is such a novelty (it was the last Latin American colony to achieve sovereignty in 1898 after more than four centuries of colonial rule), the analysis goes back to the beginning of the island, providing much detail on the rocky foundations of the autonomous country, a period which lasted about 50 years before the Revolution. Roy also delves into more complex aspects of Cuba’s relations with Spain after the signing of the Treaty of Paris and the “end” of the Spanish Empire, navigating the contrasts and parallels between the Franco and post-Franco relations.

Of course, Roy’s attempt to separate the analyses of each country in individual chapters is futile since the aforementioned “butterfly effect” makes all diplomacy unavoidably intertwined. Many decisions are entangled and, especially in recent years, reactions to any statement are instantaneous. The rotating presidency of the EU is one of the most convoluted examples of this; each country has its diplomacy, and the EU has its own relations, but since the presidency is revolving, this provokes knotting and redundancies. Yet, while reading Roy’s text, one is never lost in his analysis and this despite the detail it contains. Because it synthesizes many different points of view, this work is essential to anyone endeavoring to understand just why the Cuban Revolution is still alive. Of course, Roy doesn’t provide us with the answer to that question, but then again, neither does (or can?) anyone else.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, February 2nd 2010

Amreeka

admin — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Directed by Cherien Dabis

National Geographic Entertainment

There are a plethora of films which recount the arrival of distinct ethnic groups to America, ranging from the Eddie Murphy’s pathetic Coming to America to the Charlie Chaplin’s classic The Immigrant to the Patricia Riggen’s subtle Under The Same Moon or Jim Sheridan’s In America. However, no situation seems as tense as the arrival of visible minority immigrants to the United States post-9/11, where tense circumstances await them.

Amreeka is a the debut feature-length film by Cherien Dabis, named by Variety magazine as one of its “Ten Directors to Watch” this year, and we can indeed look forward to her next feature length film if her first is any measure of her talent. Dabis has worked in television, writing for Showtime’s The L Word and has also written and directed several award-winning short films. In Amreeka, Dabis’ writing underscores the subtleties of one who has bridged many cultures at once, a personal insight that she most likely gained during her childhood and adolescence in both the U.S. and Jordan, and as the daughter of Palestinian parents.

Dabis’ film questions the differences between the uneasy racial situation as it exists in the United States and the situation lived by the Palestinians in the Occupied territories. Nisreen Faour, a talented Palestinian theatre and television actress, is exceptional as the mother in this film; it is she who negotiates the departure for the United States with her son, the very promising young Melkar Muallem in his first movie role. Hiam Abbass, a famous international actress whom readers might recognize from such Hollywood blockbusters as Munich and Babel, is ever-talented in the role of the sister who has been living in the United States with her doctor husband and raising three girls.

Part of the film’s brilliance is that it is meant to unsettle viewers at various levels—Dabis often uses humour as her weapon. Whether it is in the encounters (at Israeli checkpoints, at the U.S. customs, during a job interview with a racist or in the visual of the Mom in her fast food uniform), in the stereotypes (the mom’s naivety, the fresh-off-the boat clothing debate, the terrorists) or in the general melodrama, there are many cringe-worthy moments. One circumstance that personally made me cower was the weight of gender in the mother-son relationship, especially in the film which has been touted as the story of an “indomitable” single mom who makes it on her own. There are a few condescending moments when the son patronizingly pats his mother’s shoulder during her hopelessness, saves the day by lending her money, and makes her believe in a paternalistic way that everything will be alright.

Sadly, the film does not seem to imply that the general condition of immigrants in the U.S. will evolve for the better. There are brief flashes of “openness” in the mom’s male friend, her dropout co-worker from the fast-food joint, and the lady at the bank who finally gets her a credit card (the American dream!). However, in the final scene, the family unit folds back into itself (with the male friend) and drives from the fast-food drive through to a Palestinian restaurant in Chicago to enjoy a blissful “traditional” meal, complete with hookah and dancing. In this turn of events, Dabis’ symbol is not lost; the errant Palestinians make their own mini-homelands wherever they may be, no matter how hostile their environment.

_Review by Sophie M. Lavoie_

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, December 26th 2009

Black and Green: Afro-Colombians, Development, and Nature in the Pacific Lowlands

admin — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 16:56:00 +0000

By Kiran Asher

Duke University Press

Black and Green is a publication based on Kiran Asher’s doctoral thesis in political science, a field she came to by ways of a masters in Environmental Management and much field experience in Costa Rica, Belize, China, and now Colombia. It is her contact with local people that let Asher to want to explore the link between environmental management and society, and her passion for both of these areas of investigation is well displayed in this book.

Throughout Black and Green, one finds passages where the author speaks of her connection with people involved in the Afro-Colombian movement, a concrete connection made through relationships forged during field work with the people she is writing about. Asher’s book not only examines a little-known area of research (resource management in the Colombian Pacific Lowlands on the west coast) but also gives a voice to a people (Afro-Colombians) who have had problems getting their voice heard in their own country and on their continent, let alone to a wider English-speaking audience.

Research in both of these fields is only recent. African slaves and their descendants have inhabited the Pacific coast area for almost as long as the Spanish colonizers. However, the acknowledgment of a distinct Afro-Colombian identity and the development of a national Afro-Colombians movement have only arisen in the last thirty years. Similarly, in a part of the country which has largely been forgotten by national (and often nonexistent) environmental policies—and despite being home to a unique biodiversity—the development of ecological strategies is also quite novel. Both of these issues, as Asher points out, are inextricably linked, and thus the correlation of these issues in her study.

Asher is a privileged witness (and occasional, often reluctant participant) to the process she is analyzing. She frequently employs firsthand accounts of the meetings she attends and the people she meets, something that transforms Black and Green into an interesting narrative of Asher’s own involvement with/in the identity she is studying (something she is very conscious of and recognizes the ambiguities of). The author does not shy away from exposing underlying issues relevant to the construction of her text; this is especially true in the last chapter where she deals with the thorny problem of Colombia’s last few decades and specifically the guerrilla and paramilitary presence in the region she deals with.

Chapter 4, on Afrocolombianas (Afro-Colombian women), is one of the shortest, but one which could have been developed into its own book. Asher’s meaningful connection with the Afrocolombianas is evident in this chapter and her writing at its strongest. She accentuates the implication of Afrocolombianas in the environmental policies movement and establishes the importance of their mobilization for the larger identity and environmental movements.

Overall, Black and Green is an engaging study that signifies a defining moment for academic studies about both Afro-Colombians and nature in Latin America.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, December 6th 2009

Next of Kin: The Family in Chicano/a Cultural Politics

admin — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Richard T. Rodríguez

Duke University Press

Anyone can tell you that family is important to Mexican and Chicano culture, and we can all venture guesses as to why. However, where exactly this family unit seems to be headed and how it has evolved in U.S. popular culture over the past 25-30 years is what Richard Rodríguez chooses to scrutinize in his study—and he does so with unexpected wit.

Rodríguez's Next of Kin is structured into four chapters framed by an introduction and an afterword. His first chapter, "Reappraising the Family Archive," examines the predominance of the family in Chicano cultural production since the establishment of the explicitly Chicano movements in the early '70s. Here, Rodríguez displays evident skill in his pictorial analysis, a talent that is augmented by the inclusion of various reproductions of the materials that he is analyzing.

In the aptly named second chapter, "Shooting the Patriarch," Rodríguez's analysis traces the same phenomenon as it appears in the medium of film and television. Although he looks at many films and programs produced by Chicanos, he primarily focuses on the film Mi Familia. Remarkably, Rodríguez manages to avoid using the word "stereotype" in this chapter, at least for the first part of his breakdown of the film.

In the third chapter, "The Verse of the Godfather," Rodríguez very thoroughly traces the origins of Chicano rap music and hip-hop culture. However, we can only lament that he did not extend his discussion to specific lyrics, since he is especially skilled at textual analysis. We finally find this skill put to use in the too brief final chapter, entitled "Carnal Knowledge," where carnal refers to the Mexican Spanish "brotherly" aspect of kinship. Rodríguez investigates the construction of gay Chicano Culture, but once again, the chapter seems underdeveloped and this begs the question of insufficient material, since Rodríguez dates the outing of gay masculine Chicano culture as far back as 1981. Seeing as the book is otherwise well written and informative, we can but lament that almost one third of the book (some 80 pages out of 257) are devoted to notes and bibliography.

Much of Rodríguez's analysis in Next of Kin revolves around the construction of the Chicano identity as different from (and similar to) the construction of other gendered identities, such as African American identity. This comparative aspect is one of the conclusions that Rodríguez's book implies, but does not mention explicitly in its afterword. As American culture becomes more and more heterogeneous, it is undeniable that the (supposed) melting pot society will constantly construct new permutations of the Chicano identity and, as Rodríguez concludes in his afterword about the family, "community is made, and remade, ideally over and against normative familia romances whose hopeful passing will call forth its next of kin."

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, November 23rd 2009