Wesleyan University Press

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

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

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

Westover: Giving Girls a Place of Their Own

admin — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Laurie Lisle

Wesleyan University Press

Few phrases in the English language conjure up more vivid fantasies than the words all-girl school. The education of women—especially in an all-girl environment—is highly political. The ACLU has made the argument that single-sex education has not proven to be noticeably effective, and that it in fact weakens Title IX. There is a constellation of preconceptions that swirl around single-sex education. Many assume that all-girl schools serve as a kind of cocoon and cage, sheltering girls from the real world to their detriment.

So, why make a case for separate but equal schools for women? Myself a former student of an all-girl school, conflicted about my experience, I was curious to read Westover: Giving Girls a Place of Their Own. Written by an alumna, the book is a history of the 100-year-old private boarding school in Connecticut for girls. This well-researched and beautifully designed book tells the story of the headmistresses and headmasters from the school’s founding to the present, closing with an examination of recent debates about single-sex education.

From the very start, women had a voice in the operation of Westover. The school was founded by headmistress Mary Robbins Hillard, a formidable woman and a strong presence in East Coast schools around the turn of the twentieth century. The school was designed by one of America’s first female architects, Theodate Pope Riddle. Thanks to her ingenuity and taste, Westover's gorgeous campus with grounds sprawling over more than 100 acres is now on the National Register of Historic Places. Around the 1960s, a string of male headmasters took the school's helm; however, the current leader of Westover is female, a former math teacher who helped to bolster the science and math curricula at the school.

One of the most interesting aspects of the book is the description of the school's shifting demographics and what caused them. When Westover opened, it was white and socioeconomically homogeneous, with the student body largely comprised of the daughters of the East Coast elite. However, in the 1940s, Westover headmistress Louise Dillingham boldly stated that schools should take a stand on behalf "equality of opportunity in democracy,” and advocated for voluntary integration of the school. The school's board stood firm in their support of the headmistress' statement, though it was controversial at the time. While Westover's progressive pro-integration stance led to declining enrollment, there was an eventual increase in diversity at the school: currently, 21% of the student body is "diverse", per Westover's brochures.

The story of Westover is an engaging one charmingly told, and it gives a good overview of the shifting notions of what makes a well-educated woman throughout the twentieth century. However, when making a case for the continued existence of women's schools into the twenty first century as in the last two chapters of the book, the author—and the heads of Westover—rely strongly on difference feminism—the theory that men and women are fundamentally different in how they communicate and approach problems. I must admit that I'm not entirely convinced by this argument: I feel that all girls’ schools succeed—sometimes—because of more supportive parents, the absence of boys and other factors.

Westover isn't meant to be a scholarly treatise on all-girl's schools and so doesn't succeed as one. Don't read it for a well-balanced look at current debates on single-sex education. Do, however, pick it up if you're interested in the history of American education and possibly its future. To quote current headmistress Ann Pollina, "We need to send out a phalanx of girls who are going to do what the world needs, which is to embody those qualities of care and nurture and community that our culture is desperate for right now. The culture needs our girls." Girls—and not just those at Westover—should take note.

Written by: Catherine Nicotera, November 21st 2009

On Joanna Russ

admin — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 17:13:00 +0000

Edited by Farrah Mendlesohn

Wesleyan University Press

Last summer, in an effort to learn more about female writers of speculative fiction (SF), I read Charlotte Spivack’s Merlin’s Daughters. While the majority of the book was a rather boring summary of what the aforementioned "daughters" had written, the introduction posited that all speculative fiction has subversive possibilities. After all, the author is imagining a new world and probably one structured by a new social order, right? Not necessarily.

In Farrah Mendlesohn’s On Joanna Russ, the reader finds that in mid-century American SF, only some ideas are subject to question, and that pioneers like Russ were marginalized, or ignored. In the first part of the book, “Criticism and Community,” contributors discuss the relationship between Russ and the SF community, including readers, prominent editors and other writers, as well as her place as an academic. For example, as Russ moves toward a more feminist perspective, she writes to a popular publication about the lack of female characters in most SF novels.

The responses were many and varied, but a prominent colleague took it on himself to 'set her straight'. It was not sexism that kept female characters out of SF, he said; it was the “cerebral plots” that did not necessitate a “love interest.” On Joanna Russ paints the picture of a female writer forced by workplace bottom-pinching and literary marginalization to explain feminism over and over again to both men and women. Responding to Kate Wilhelm, who said she champions equal rights but is not a feminist, Russ noted, “It’s funny, really; having disclaimed feminism, you go on to define it.”

The second part of the book focuses on Russ’ fiction. Contributors here discuss how Russ’ work shows a synthesis of second and third wave feminisms, the necessity of violence for Russ’ protagonists, and the recurrent themes of lesbianism and homosocial bonds. This discussion is interwoven with the relationship of her writing to the work of Hélène Cixous, Mina Loy, Mikhail Bakhtin, and others. In her fiction, Russ defines, expands, and subverts the “feminine utopia” and visions of women as “good”, i.e., not violent or sexual.

I came away from On Joanna Russ with a huge to-read list, including titles by Russ and important works by feminist writers. This book is a must-read for a student of SF, female writers and academics, or any feminist who has forgotten how close the isolation of the twentieth century is at our heels. I was struck by how far we have come from bottom-pinching in the academy, but also how much still has to be done to create a culture where writing by and about women flourishes. Russ herself says in "How to Suppress Women’s Writing":

When the memory of one’s predecessors is buried, the assumption persists that there were none, and each generation of women believes itself to be faced with the burden of doing everything for the first time… without models, it’s hard to work; without a context, difficult to evaluate; without peers, nearly impossible to speak.

Sadly, according to contributor Graham Sleight, as of 2008, says many of her books are out of print, forcing contemporary readers to track her down in used books stores and libraries. It’s well worth the hunt: her work was crucial to the shape of contemporary SF.

Written by: H. V. Cramond, July 7th 2009

Challenges: A Memoir of My Life in Opera

admin — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 10:17:00 +0000

By Sarah Caldwell

Wesleyan University Press

In Challenges: A Memoir of My Life in Opera, Sarah Caldwell, the first woman to conduct the Metropolitan Opera, relates intimate stories about her experiences as a director and conductor of this dramatic art form. From a series of interviews planned and orchestrated by Caldwell, she and Rebecca Matlock have created an intimate, cozy memoir.

The passages written by Matlock include interesting personal details about Caldwell. For instance, her home has heated concrete floors and acoustic adaptations designed to allow her to listen to auditioned works at home. We also learn of Caldwell’s graduation from high school at age twelve.

The greater portion of the book features transcriptions of interviews with Caldwell who breezes through tales of opera house money woes and the sleights of hand performed to raise funds. When Caldwell speaks of challenges, she is referring to the challenge of creating dynamic performances. We learn about her devotion to an art form where the question of how to enhance even a reliable classic such as Aida involves the love of the process of creating, as much as the final result.

Opera fans who have not yet come across this book will enjoy the conversational tone that is not overly weighed down by details of production dates, plot explanations, or the dreary “facts” found in some memoirs. For those with an interest in the theatre, this is a rich exploration into the mindset of a bright, motivated expert in her field. Even those are put off by opera will enjoy Sarah dishing the dirt the world over from Boston to Mexico to the Philippines.

This is worthy opportunity to hear great stories from someone who has excelled in her chosen and beloved field.

Written by: Cheryl Ellis, March 8th 2009

The Bad Wife Handbook

admin — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 11:03:00 +0000

By Rachel Zucker

Wesleyan University Press

If in these modern times women had to hide potentially influential books from their husbands and others around them, The Bad Wife Handbook would be included among the silent list traded through some secret alley passage. Imagine pages of poetry and short prose ripped out then stuck inside of the bible so as not to draw attention or suspicion.

The Bad Wife Handbook is full of poetry that trips into the wholeness of married life - through the difficulties of monogamy, writing, children, and all the compromises made along the way. The poems express both emotional success and emotional repression bled out through words and ideas, like the sea and the universe. It is the honest truth of the bad against the good in life - or sometimes the other way around.

The collection, hidden in a pale blue book with a photographed of a wrinkled index card on its cover, tells us that marriage is impossible - the husband a beautiful creature you can’t, and sometimes don’t want to, escape. Children are desperate life drainers who use and take, yet are and always will be the best things ever produced from your body or mind. It journeys through sadness, love, and all that could happen in between.

I can’t say I would recommend this book to every woman I know. It may scare them off to one of the lesbian clubs that a good chunk of my friends already frequent. I can say that any woman in a long-term, committed, heterosexual relationship should read Rachel Zucker’s words. Knowing that her feelings are shared by others makes a girl realize that no matter how alone the compromises can make you feel, you are never really alone, and sometimes, giving in can make you the happiest you will ever need to be.

Written by: Susan Wilson, June 18th 2008

Action Speaks Louder: Violence, Spectacle, and the American Action Movie

admin — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 13:21:00 +0000

By Eric Lichtenfeld

Wesleyan University Press

In Action Speaks Louder, Eric Lichtenfeld's illuminating history of the action film genre, the author claims that “the action film has deserved the right to be discussed in the same terms as those used to qualify other more established genres.” This idea, while not brought up until the book’s conclusion, forms the basis of Lichtenfeld’s study, which traces action film trends from the early hard-bodied heroes and martial arts stars like Stallone and Seagal all the way through recent comic book adaptations. Along the way, he covers post-apocalyptic action films, modern disaster movies, and the concept of “terror and the confined arena” originated by Die Hard and continued by a large number of films, including Speed and Air Force One.

As he discusses each film, Lichtenfeld traces the progression of common plotlines and hero and villain archetypes, keeping in mind the given time period, both in terms of available special effects and political and social concerns. Quotes from publicity materials and film reviews help to place each film in the content of how it was originally presented and received. Also discussed are the technical aspects of filmmaking, including editing, cinematography and production design.

Lichtenfeld makes a number interesting points about masculinity in action films, in relation to both physicality and weapons. Unfortunately, one major topic he barely touches on is the role of women in these films. While there are few action films that feature female heroes, he could have easily engaged in an ongoing discussion of the genre's stereotypical female characters, including “the victim” and “the prize.”

Overall, Action Speaks Louder accomplishes two things: it establishes action films as legitimate creative endeavors undertaken with the same considerations as other types of films, and it shows how action films are a window into the politics of the time at which they are made. Whether you're an action fanatic, casual fan or someone who always equated the genre with mindless entertainment, Action Speaks Louder will surely change the way you think about, and watch, action films.

Written by: Kiri Oliver, July 24th 2007