Britain

Made in Dagenham

brittany — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

I am not much for plays. I generally prefer to sit bundled in my comforter, wine in hand, and watch a movie. However, I was recently convinced by a friend to join her for Mrs. Warren’s Profession, the main attraction of which was Sally Hawkins. I know Sally Hawkins only from Happy-Go-Lucky where her cheerfulness, tireless as the Sony synopsis describes, was also guileless and irritating. It was nice seeing Hawkins as something more than a ditz; no, not more than a ditz, merely a different kind of ditz—aloof and self-righteous in a very different way. In Made in Dageham, Hawkins’ character is still wrapped up in her own fiction.

Made in Dagenham depicts the first strike of female workers in Britain. Starting as a dispute over wage classification, these women were not “unskilled” so much as they were specialized; however, the strike expands to an argument about pay equality. The strike is settled at ninety-two percent of parity.

Between unskilled and ninety-two percent, however, life continues and Rita O’Grady, as played by Hawkins, is too soon to forget the mundane—or at least it appears. She does not return to cooking or doing the dishes, and in a pivotal argument with her ever passive-aggressive husband, she rebukes him for behaving as he should towards her and their children, but never better. It is not a Betty Friedan sort of stance, trying to have it all, but it is also not third wave feminism’s acceptance that maybe having it all is not possible. In the film, O’Grady is called “the Revlon Revolutionary,” but only because she is a woman, not because her feminism resembles lipstick feminism. Her life doesn’t represent a particular political stance and seems merely a meditation on the ways things were.

While the film invites comparisons to Norma Rae, I have none to offer. The women of Dagenham were all too willing to go on strike, having seen their men do as much before. The women escalate their action after they feel that management’s response to their initial action is disrespectful. The women’s strike in Dagenham is endogenous, brought about by the preexisting union and acceptance of this behavior in a way that the South never has been.

Made in Dagenham is mostly a bubblegum depiction of feminism. It has a token scene in the union headquarters wherein heated arguments rely upon Marx—the progress of a society can be measured by its treatment of women. The film never develops any of its arguments or its characters fully; all remaining as tokenistic representations of the depths which feminism can reach.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, November 19th 2010

Four Lions

beth — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 21:33:00 +0000

Directed by Chris Morris

Drafthouse Films

Four Lions, produced and directed by Chris Morris, satirizes terrorists and the response to terrorism in modern Britain. Every character is flawed and every person is spoofed. No one is spared; police, politicians, local working stiffs, neighborhood religious fanatics, and the floozie next door are lampooned with great one-liners and riotous insults. This may sound insensitive, but the humor does not obscure hard issues. Rather, it makes them approachable: you’ll likely want to talk about this funny and unexpectedly sad film after seeing it.

The film’s strength is in offering a point of view that for most is simply unthinkable and unsympathetic: the perspective of four British Muslims who attempt jihad and plot suicide bombings. Morris’s incompetent and conflicted would-be martyrs are mostly likable oafs, the gang that couldn’t shoot straight, as if Harold and Kumar waged jihad under the tutelage of Twitter’s Al Qaeda. This sympathetic perspective is most disturbing as each meets his violent end, sometimes regretfully. The humor makes discussion possible.

I was deeply curious to see this film because I wondered whether the balance of humor and serious issues could be applied to this topic. I’m not convinced that such satire would work with more nuanced matters than suicide bombers or topics that are not thoroughly polarized. Polarization made Citizen Ruth work, but the difficulties presented by more subtle issues may be the reason that humor is rarely used to promote discussion. It’s not easy to be funny or enlightening, and to do so at the same time seems near impossible when talking about something, well, serious.

While Four Lions is a great discussion tool, it is less successful as entertainment. It’s funny, and the characters are always engaging, but the story wanders a bit because it’s both satire and buddy movie, and these elements do not entirely work together. The film does not have universal appeal. That said, the biggest downside is that you may never get rid of the earworm “Dancing in the Moonlight” after the movie ends.

Written by: Melissa Ditmore, November 5th 2010

The Great Silence: Britain from the Shadow of the First World War to the Dawn of the Jazz Age

admin — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Juliet Nicolson

Grove Press

The Great Silence starts out with a story that is never fun to tell—the story of a war—the First World War. Nicolson writes of a part of life that divides humans like no other, but also remedies that story with one that is incomparable in drawing us together—that of music. Everything in between is categorized under feelings such as, hopelessness, anger, honesty, and acceptance, to name a few.

The year of 1918 gave birth to a day that was supposed to represent a temporary suspension of hostilities by mutual agreement—a truce—for this is what Armistice means. Armistice Day, however, served more as a bandaid in the lives of millions of Britain’s inhabitants. Hostilities would fester for a lifetime for those who would never see their husbands, brothers, or fathers again. It also offered little consolation to returning soldiers who saw the end of the war, but were marked by it forever with their injuries and disfigurements.

Nicolson seems to pull back the curtain on that time making the reader feel as if they are in the midst of the goings on of these lives forever touched by the war. No one was spared of the atrocities, from the ordinary to the famous, such as, D.H. Lawrence, T.S. Eliot, and Virginia Woolf, who found time to write of Armistice Day while at a trip to the dentist.

The war and its residual effects would give rise to many unprecedented events, such as women’s right to vote (with certain restrictions), the increased blurring of class lines, and a music that would therapeutically liberate a people’s mental constraints. Not even the world of fashion was spared when French couturier Coco Chanel introduced innovative fashions that complemented androgyny while retaining femininity, thanks in part, to this jazz music. It seemed that the high hopes of winning the war and/or returning from it unbroken placed on the success of the war in the beginning came crashing down along with the nation’s morality (according to what the powers that be believed), due to its failure in both. Jazz music only served to divide the morale with its primitive elements wreaking havoc on the virginal principles of good people.

Nicolson weaves such a thorough and engaging social history that makes the reader feel personally privy to a time when many of our grandparents were not even a thought. Nicolson’s ability to tell a story complemented by first-hand accounts and access to the diaries of Queen Mary give the reader a virtual experience of what it was like to experience a time long gone, but not forgotten.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, July 22nd 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

Daughters of Empire: A Memoir of a Year in Britain and Beyond

admin — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Jane Satterfield

Demeter Press

The poet and essayist Jane Satterfield writes a hauntingly discontinuous prose-poem about a sort of exile. To those of us with dual citizenship—or, perhaps, to those for whom home is two places, neither tidily reconcilable with the other—Daughters of Empire speaks poignantly to the longing for connection between past and present, mother and daughter, literary inspiration, and career frustration.

The author here teases us with the possibility of a conventional narrative of exile: what will happen when a woman who spent most of her formative years in the United States becomes pregnant and has a child while being cast aside by a prospective employer and emotionally abandoned by a narcissistic and controlling husband? Will she find in this land of her birth and ancestry an escape from the soul-deadening labor of fixed-term teaching in American institutions, and instead find joy in teaching Larkin and Plath and Heaney and Hughes to students who understand and appreciate the value of being taught by a working poet? Will she find in the geography of her own imagination the spiritual bond to the Brontë sisters that she seeks?

Our relationship to place is similarly discontinuous, and home, whatever that means, is an ongoing negotiation. Satterfield’s narrator is unstuck in time, just as she is unstuck geographically, so we get poetically rich spots of memory: “I stand on Charlotte Brontë’s front steps, thinking I’m going to be sick,” she tells us on the first page—either a vertiginous reaction to this confrontation with her nineteenth-century literary forbearer, or perhaps a bit of first-trimester nausea. And then suddenly it’s several years earlier, and she’s a different sort of exile, not quite fitting in to this group of students or that literary community brought together in American college towns. And then she’s a punk, a Johnny Rotten, but with much more ambivalent feelings towards Queen and country.

And then she’s in Corby, a “piss hole in the dead heart of England” where she was born, traveling with her mother through a reconstruction of her own ancestry and her mother’s shared dual sense of place. But then, heartbreakingly, she’s starving emotionally and perhaps physically as a mother estranged from her husband, whose Fulbright Exchange, in the mid-1990s, was in part responsible for this year in England which serves as a potent but unstable center of this narrative.

Because of the evocative power of her memory and the clarity of her language, she draws the reader willingly into this vortex. And yet, she resists closure. Does she find career fulfillment? Can she bridge the imaginative/historical gaps and construct a satisfactory home? Can she free herself from this dreadful relationship? The memoir asks instead that we participate in her desires, in her lyrical remembrance, in her evocative moments that shuttle back and forth through time, woven together by her search for identity, for her discovery of home.

Written by: Rick Taylor, April 27th 2010

Visibly Muslim: Fashion, Politics, Faith

admin — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 05:01:00 +0000

By Emma Tarlo

Berg Publishers

In her new book, entitled Visibly Muslim: Fashion, Politics, Faith, Emma Tarlo captures the diversity in the way that Islam is practiced against the backdrop of multicultural Britain. Refreshingly, the book did not aim to answer whether or not covering was a part of Islam, and neither did it represent the views of Muslim women as a monolithic body.

In her book, Tarlo shows a snapshot of the way in which the veil has manifested itself within the Muslim population of Britain. In focusing on the way that different Muslim women struggle to find common ground between various identities, and the reactions of those around them, Tarlo looks at the veil as a part of the changing dynamics of members of a newer community, rather than an exposé that aims to penetrate the “secret world of Muslim women.”

Within the book, Tarlo moves from discussing high-profile Muslim women, to fashion, the hijab as a part of politics, and the fluid relationship between culture and religion. She does not gloss over the difficulties in finding a bridge between identities. When I saw the words “fashion” and “veil” together, I was worried that I would be confronted with a piece that would merely wax poetic about the intricate embroidery of hijab and the wonderful colors and trends that are starting to rival the Western fashion industry. Tarlo does depict changing fashions for Muslim women, but rather as a part of personal journeys. Furthermore, she analyzes the discourse surrounding the emerging market for “modest fashion.”

The most hard-hitting theme of the book was that of integration. In writing about some of the challenges faced by Muslim women within British communities, I could definitely relate. While Tarlo introduced a great deal of personal narratives from a wide range of women, she also brought into play some of the debate surrounding the hijab within the Muslim community itself. Finding a sense of identity and purpose is a concept which most people–not just Muslims–can relate to.

What was refreshing was that she did not glorify or vilify groups that were more “modern” than others, but simply left the reader to try to understand the realities of grasping for a sense of identity. In showing this theme of integration as a part of juggling different identities, rather than a poisonous and foreign part of society, it forced me to really reflect on how difficult it is for anyone to try to fit in on any level. Rather than trying to promote an “acceptable” level of integration, Tarlo merely provides a picture of the realities of the Muslim community in Britain. This is significant because she does not depict it as a threat, but rather as important debate that shows that the face of Islam is changing and growing, as with many immigrant communities.

What I felt was monumentally missing from Tarlo’s work was the voice of Muslim women who have either been forced to veil or took it off. While she did a great job in showing the diversity of religious views and coming to the veil, I think that in analyzing the world of hijab, it is important to understand why women may reject it entirely. Also, I felt that she could have analyzed the role of socioeconomic status a bit more within the book. While the role of fashion is very significant in trying to understand the identities of Muslim women, I felt that fashion may have a different place and even the hijab itself may play a different role for someone that may not be able to afford the diversity in dress.

Despite being left with these questions, overall I was impressed with the book’s fluid style, beautiful pictures, and honest stories. Furthermore, I enjoyed Tarlo’s dedication to trying to capture not only a snapshot of the Muslim community within Britain, but also in trying to introduce the difficulties within the Islamic community itself. She does not glorify the hijab or Islam, but rather highlights the realities faced by Muslim women.

Cross-posted on Muslimah Media Watch

Written by: Sara Yasin, April 13th 2010

Remarkable Creatures

admin — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Tracy Chevalier

Dutton

I'm a huge fan of Tracy Chevalier. Like a lot of people, I began with Girl with a Pearl Earring, and have since made my way through all but one of her other books. So of course I leapt at the chance to sample her newest offering.

Like all her books, Remarkable Creatures begins with something tangible. In Pearl Earring it was a Vermeer painting, and The Lady and the Unicorn explained the origin of a famous medieval tapestry. This time, the inspiration is a sketch of a most unusual woman.

Mary Anning is a working class girl living on the southern coast of Britain. The people there often host tourists and sell them "curies," curiosities, as souvenirs. Only recently have men of learning begun to study and classify these curies as fossils. Mary has "the eye" for spotting them, and she is keeping her family afloat by hunting fossils along the beach.

An older gentlewoman and spinster, Elizabeth Philpot, takes an interest in this clever girl. She, too, collects fossils. They form a friendship, spending hours and hours together combing the beach and cliffs for new specimens. Elizabeth collects for the joy of it, Mary for the money.

Everything changes when Mary discovers a "monster"—an Ichthyosaurus preserved in the rock. Educated men swarm to the town to see it for themselves and try to discover their own creatures. Mary is pleased by the attention and works closely with the men to find each his own specimen. Though they are only too happy to gain from Mary's knowledge and experience, Elizabeth discovers that Mary's best specimen is not credited to her at all; instead, the man who sells it to the London museum is listed as its discoverer.

Elizabeth is dismayed when she realizes how badly Mary is being abused. Collectors and scientists are appropriating all her efforts, so she spends less time collecting items to sell. One man even draws Mary into a flirtation and takes advantage of her desire to please him. He leaves town with nearly a hundred specimens—and not a dime to pay Mary for fossils or guidance.

The facts Chevalier has based the book on bear this out. The real Mary Anning and Elizabeth Philpot were hardly acknowledged in any official capacity by their contemporaries. Mary is and was responsible for discovering the first complete skeletons of several dinosaurs, but it is the men who purchased them to study at schools and museums who named them and whose names are now remembered.

Though Mary is doing sensational things, it is Elizabeth who is really exceptional. She is very self-aware, and is under no illusions about her future. Her family has only enough money for one of four sisters to marry, and that sister is not her. She knows she will need something to occupy her days. She chooses fossils. She reads scientific journals voraciously, and she is constantly seeking answers to questions many people—including the foremost natural scientists of the day, all men—avoid: What are these fossils? Why do these animals no longer exist? Did God allow them to die out? Did he destroy them—did God make a mistake in their creation? Could humanity die out one day? What a majority now consider hard facts were then shocking, blasphemous ideas to nearly everyone.

Remarkable Creatures speaks of both the amazing fossils being uncovered and the two women who pursue an unladylike career with no hope of recognition. The world they live in shapes their actions and reactions, turning what could be a dull history into a vibrant story of female friendship. An excellent read for the drizzling, gray days you want to spend indoors.

Written by: Richenda Gould, March 5th 2010

Young Woman and the Sea: How Trudy Ederle Conquered the English Channel and Inspired the World

admin — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 09:05:00 +0000

By Glenn Stout

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

From 1922 through 1925, Gertrude “Trudy” Ederle was widely considered to be the best female swimmer in the world, and had no trouble competing, and winning, against men either. In 1926, at the age of nineteen, she became the first woman to swim the English Channel, shattering the previous record by two full hours.

Young Woman and the Sea is the story of Trudy Ederle told by sportswriter Glenn Stout, but it is more than a biography. Using interspersed chapters, Stout gives readers lessons on the history of swimming, the English Channel, and those who came before Ederle in women’s swimming and in the swimming of the Channel. The main focus of the book is Ederle, but it is also the story of those who helped make it possible for her to succeed so greatly.

In the early 1900s, women weren’t taught, or often allowed, to swim. It wasn’t seen as proper and few thought that women were physically capable of even doing it. The Women’s Swimming Association, founded in 1917, had a mission to change that view. Part of that mission was recruiting young girls to train, and, in 1918, Ederle became one of them. Ederle in particular challenged the psychological and scientific reasoning that women were not, nor could ever be, as strong as men.

Ederle’s first attempt at the English Channel was in 1925, but a sexist coach—who is rumored to have poisoned her—sabotaged her efforts both mentally and physically. One year later, under the guidance of a new coach, Ederle swam the Channel better than anyone before her, making the phrase “weaker sex” sound old fashioned.

After Ederle, more women crossed the Channel, one within days of her successful attempt, and more women’s sports, which had seemed so controversial before, were added to the Olympics. More women also began to turn professional, reaping the same financial benefits as professional male athletes, thanks to a change in attitudes toward female athletes.

Ederle was a celebrity at a time when few knew what that term meant. However, soon after her historical swim, she slipped into obscurity almost as easily as her fame began. One of the reasons Stout gives for her being so quickly forgotten was that the changes she inspired became so pervasive so quickly.

The story of Trudy Ederle is important and should be told often. It would be wonderful as a young adult or children’s book because of its inspirational messages of equality and perseverance. Ederle’s reasoning behind swimming the Channel may have had more to do with personal goals than gender equality, but she sure helped things along. Young Woman and the Sea is a charming read and an important reminder of how thankful women today should be for women like Ederle who have come before them.

Written by: Jill Hindenach, July 28th 2009

Vegan Rustic Cooking: Through The Seasons

admin — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 16:53:00 +0000

By Diana White

Permanent Publications

I thought Vegan Rustic Cooking sounded like the grounded, salt-of-the-earth read I needed on my shelf. Lately, I seem to be searching online for recipes as I crave on-demand inspiration. I live in root vegetable country, and I thought this might be just the book for me and my potato-loving self. But despite my own recent familiarity with new uses for celery roots, carrots, beets, and leeks; I wonder if the British cookbook author’s localized emphasis on root and sea vegetables didn’t rob the book of otherwise inventive recipes.

Quality vegan cookbooks outside of The Post Punk Kitchen empire or from European publishers are tough to find, so I applaud the effort to make a British-centric vegan cookbook. I’m also personally spoiled by fun manuals like How It All Vegan! but simply put, I’m disappointed by Diana White’s collection.

There are several problems with this cookbook that immediately stand out; namely, that its plain, dreadfully boring layout offers absolutely no inspiration. As someone who used to think of cooking as more of a chore than the opportunity I now believe it to be, I need for my go-to cookbooks to spice things up—literally. Several of the Vegan Rustic Cooking recipes consist of three ingredients and no actual cooking. While I enjoy the book’s selection of sauces, scrambled tofu is not a recipe. It’s a stretch to call guacamole one as well. The main courses and desserts fair a bit better, but—pun alert—the fare is still far below my own standards.

The other problem—and this is a criticism of the world at large—is that many vegan ingredients like soy mayonnaise, barley miso, and gram flour are not items most people can run right out and buy—assuming they know where these specialties could be found in their vicinity. Between lack of availability, cost, and hassle, few people will be able or have the desire to experiment with meat and dairy substitutes when presented this way. When you make such strict recipes with no wiggle room or alternative suggestions, people will turn away faster than a vegan rejects a steak. You have to offer replacement options and not assume that everyone can purchase nori flakes. You can’t expect people to spend four days making sprouted wheat (reality check: they won’t). We should be making this fun and easy for people. I don’t mean we need to dumb down animal advocacy or wholesome eating. We need to make it applicable to people’s everyday lives.

Perhaps in the UK, the remnants of colonialism make gram flour, for example, an easily accessible ingredient. There is no mention of the reasons for this availability, and while I want to emphasize that vegans must adapt their animal-free diets to their location; this book does not seem easily transferable outside of its intended region. I live on the same continent and in the same basic climate, and I wondered how I would ever make many of these dishes—assuming that I ever aspired to do so.

As I read through the cookbook, I felt like I was being lectured. While the best parts could easily be tutorials and ideas about how to steam vegetables and utilize local, seasonal produce, I was insulted that someone was instructing me to eat green leafy vegetables daily. Not only do I know that I should be doing this; I resented the classist implication that all people can find and afford such a luxury—and sadly, that is exactly what it is to consume fresh kale, pears, and flaked almonds on a regular basis. For dedicated vegans, this cookbook may supplement other sources of creative recipes, but I have little faith that few people will find new, invigorating ideas here.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, June 17th 2009

The Widows' Might: Widowhood and Gender in Early British America

admin — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 17:18:00 +0000

By Vivian Bruce Conger

New York University Press

Honest. Scheming. Haughty. Charitable. Sinful. Virtuous. These are just some of the words used to describe American colonial widows by their contemporaries. Widows complicate the classic boundaries of the roles of “wife” or “mother,” and often have been forced out of the private sphere of their households into the public sphere of business in order to support themselves and their families. In The Widows' Might: Widowhood and Gender in Early British America, Vivian Bruce Conger examines the tension and complexity inherent in the public perception of the American colonial widow.

The book takes its title from the Biblical story of the widow’s mite. In the parable, Jesus and his disciples are at the temple, watching as the rich cast in money for the temple treasury. A widow approaches and drops in two mites, the smallest unit of currency at the time. Jesus praises the widow, saying that while others gave away their excess wealth, the widow gave to the temple all she had, despite her poverty. The selfless charity in the Biblical story is meant to be an example for women in the colonies, who were expected to dedicate their lives—and their money—to the greater good, specifically their family and community. Bruce Conger uses this story to illustrate “the mite and the might, the economic and social power” that widows had. She illustrates this power by examining widows’ wills, as will-making indicated that women thought that they had something to give, and that they were valued contributors to their families and communities.

Bruce Conger studied women’s wills and court documents from a 120-year period starting in the 1630s in Massachusetts, Maryland, and South Carolina, to examine the commonalities of widows’ experiences throughout the American colonies. Surprisingly, attitudes towards widows were remarkably consistent across time and place, due to the colonies’ close cultural relationship with Britain. Prescriptive literature imported from Britain—including the Bible, sermons, advice books, and plays—were read by elite women, expounded from the minister’s pulpit, and mentioned in newspapers. In this way, ideas were spread from community to community, and from woman to woman.

Over the course of five chapters, Bruce Conger explores the ideology and the reality of marriage; widows’ interpretations of the law and legal practices; widows’ identity as “fathers” as well as mothers to their children; widows as providers and recipients of charity; and widows in their roles as businesswomen. She focuses on widows who did not remarry, as they were able to define their position in society in ways that widows who remarried were not. These women were able to challenge the stories told about them in the public spheres of church and courthouse by telling stories of their own.

This book is intended for an academic audience, and is somewhat dry at times. However, I found the complexity of rules governing widows’ behavior—and the ways in which women either resisted or internalized them—utterly fascinating. This book is slender, clocking in at about 160 pages of text, followed by lengthy footnotes. Despite its being a quick read, the incongruity of the competing definitions of widow in the book stay with you long after the covers are closed, particularly the words of Cotton Mather: "Some Women have the Names of Men, a little altered, as Jaquet (from Jacoba), Joanna, Jan, Jennet (all from John), Thomasin, Philippa, Frances, Henrietta, Antenia, Julian, Dionysis, and the like; But all our Widows are put upon thus doing the works of Men, may their God help them!"

Written by: Catherine Nicotera, June 13th 2009

Eve

admin — Sun, 31 May 2009 09:21:00 +0000

By The Alan Parsons Project

Arista

After the release of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon, Alan Parsons and Eric Woolfson put together the Alan Parsons Project, a British progressive rock group that put out several albums that could be considered “concept” albums—not too unlike what the Mars Volta does now.

1979 was the original release year for the album Eve and the concept for this album is the tale of a woman and how she affects men. Sort of an interesting take when you consider Jane Fonda’s Barbarella was released in 1968 and showcased her talents and affect on men. I doubt Eve was totally inspired by Jane Fonda, but you get the general idea. Fighting against the infusion of new wave British pop and punk rock, the Alan Parsons’ Project remastered edition of Eve comes out to a completely new musical landscape. However, the album is inconsistent and uneven, and fans of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon might find this particular album difficult to grab onto.

The opening track “Lucifer” opens with an instrumental, then starts strong with the following songs “You Lay Down with the Dogs” and “I’d Rather be a Man,” whose lyrics might be too strong for some: “Well I’d rather be a man than play my role like you do/ I’d rather be a man than sin my soul like you do/ I’d rather be a man than slave the way you do/ I’d rather be a man cause a man don’t crawl like you do.”

After that, the entire album falls flat and tapers off. I kept finding myself shuffling to the next song, hoping to find some magic in the music. The remastered edition doesn’t offer as much as other versions, and doesn’t sound any better than the original, which is somewhat surprising, as Parsons worked as an engineer on The Beatles’ Abbey Road and Let It Be, as well as Dark Side Of The Moon. But Eve doesn’t capture quite the same distinct feel for my pop loving ears. Perhaps I’ve got a grudge against art house rock. But in all honesty, Eve is definitely not art house rock and definitely not the album to check out if you want to listen to the Alan Parsons’ Project.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, May 31st 2009

Trailer Park (Legacy Edition)

admin — Fri, 22 May 2009 23:49:00 +0000

By Beth Orton

Sony Legacy

I was twenty and living in Austin when I first heard Beth Orton. She laid the soundtrack to my existential search for love and self and meaning. Trailer Park is the kind of record you listen to while laying on your bed, questioning your life, your love, or playing against the background in a movie scene where you walk along the railroad tracks, hands in your pocket during a particularly emotional moment. When I see photos of Kristin Stewart, for some reason, Beth Orton sings in my head.

Orton has the smooth soft voice of an old school siren, but there is so much depth to her quiet and gentle sound that it’s difficult to pinpoint whether it’s her voice or her emotions that pour into each song. In some ways, Orton has a Portishead aesthetic of mixing trip hop with a woman’s beautiful voice, but without the affectation of Beth Gibbons, Orton just sings with a vulnerability and softness that still manages to get your attention. One of the best songs on the album is a cover of the Ronette’s “I Never Saw the Sunshine,” a quiet memorable track that captures what is best about Trailer Park and Orton—not overdone, not showy, just simple and straightforward, but powerful. There are also two different versions of “Best Bit” that are both remarkable in their own way.

Part British folk, part interlude, Beth Orton’s /B001C5R2QW?ie=UTF8&tag=feminrevie-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B001C5R2QW) adds a second disc of thirteen extra tracks, including live versions of several noteworthy songs, such as “Galaxy of Emptiness.” Lyrics like “Won’t you please knock me off my feet for awhile? Could you please knock me off my feet for awhile?” express completely what is so good about Orton and this album.

The heir to Carole King and Joni Mitchell, the original album fell onto the rainy London streets in the mid-90s, and a little more than ten years later, the legacy addition can reach out to a new generation of fans.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, May 22nd 2009

The Clothes on Their Backs: A Novel

admin — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 11:48:00 +0000

By Linda Grant

Scribner

To be particularly honest, I am partial to any and all texts set in Britain, and The Clothes On Their Backs is set in London. So I was already loving the book before I started reading. My love only grew as I went on.

The story is of Vivien Kovacs, daughter of Jewish Hungarian immigrants. Vivien grew up in Benson Court, with parents who much preferred staying home than going out. Her quiet and sheltered childhood is spent reading and imagining, interrupted by a brief visit by her uncle Sándor Kovacs. Her parents slam the door in Sándor’s face—for he is a notorious slumlord, vilified in the media.

Sándor becomes an integral figure in the book. Niece and uncle meet in a park after Vivien has gone to university, married, become a widow, and moved back in with her parents. He hires her to help him write his memoirs. The two pretend to not know they are related, though each really knows the truth. Vivien digs for information about her past and her family, trying to come to an understanding of why her parents are the way they are. She is also looking for information about why she is the way she is.

The theme of clothing runs throughout the book in subtle ways. The most obvious connection is that Vivien’s family fled Hungary with just the clothes on their backs. The idea moves from there. As a teen and young adult, Vivien wears vintage clothing as a way to define herself: someone slightly alternative, bohemian yet educated. She briefly dates a young man who dresses in a roughed-up leather jacket, showing that he is not from the same class background as she is. Her most vivid memory of the first meeting with her uncle is clothing. Her uncle wore an “electric-blue mohair suit, black hand-stitched suede shoes... And the black girl on his arm, in a nylon leopardskin coat with matching pillbox hat, carrying a plastic crocodile handbag with a gilt clasp.” Much can be inferred from one’s clothing.

There are some moments that feel unresolved or unnecessary; Vivien’s abortion and her brief marriage to Alex don’t really seem to move the book forward. Other than that, the book reads quite well. Linda Grant writes artfully, and was deservedly on the shortlist for the Man Booker Prize.

The book evokes feelings of melancholy and raises questions. In telling the history of Hungary before World War II, and the history of London during the post-war era, questions of immorality and goodness are raised. Vivien’s question of knowing how to live is also left up to the reader to answer for oneself.

Written by: Kristin Conard, February 27th 2009

Girls and Weather

admin — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 12:41:00 +0000

By The Rumble Strips

Fallout Records

Rumble strips are those bumpy edges along the highway that essentially—hopefully—keep you from driving into a ditch. Did you ever start to doze off on an interstate freeway or make a turn too sharp off an exit ramp? Then you’ve probably rolled over a rumble strip. Not really similar due to their lack of grating and bumpy transitions, The Rumble Strips are a UK band with a lot of heart. Earnest Brit-pop with a large horn presence, Girls and Weather is their debut release with a lot of room for growth.

Most of the album showcases fresh work, though the track “Motorcycle” was first released in 2005 as the band was just getting its bearings after switching the lineup. With a consistent roster since, comprised of childhood pals, the fellas of The Rumble Strips chose to re-release “Motorcycle,” which is a little too sugary sweet for me in its lamenting that a bicycle is not a motorcycle. In fact, much of the album, including their single “Girls and Boys In Love,” is similar bubbly pop. The single “Alarm Clock” goes so far as to include lyrics “beep, beep, beep,” but no one ever said pop music doesn’t rely on predictable formulas, right?

The band just wrapped their first major North American tour, but check their website for future dates. This disc has been out for a little over a year, but you aren’t behind. Just go grab a copy and act like you knew all along.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, November 16th 2008