University of North Carolina Press

Reading Is My Window: Books and the Art of Reading in Women’s Prisons

admin — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

“Sometimes, I think they forget the women.” One seemingly simple statement at the start of this book—spoken by the chief librarian for the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction—serves to explain the importance of a text like Reading Is My Window. What began for Megan Sweeney as a dissertation on prisoners’ relationships with true crime books evolved into a years-long study of analyzing the reading patterns of the occupants of several women’s prisons across the country.

In addition to conducting 245 individual interviews with female prisoners, Sweeney also facilitated fifty-one book group discussions. The interviews and interactions with the prisoners make up at least half of the book, so by the second chapter, you’ll find yourself engaging with the prisoners and their individual stories of mental, physical, and sexual abuse, along with drug use. The stories that emerge from these interviews and discussions offer a fascinating insight into how the women manage to regain a kind of humanity through reading while residing in an institution determined to dehumanize them. Solo, Monique, and Denise are among the many who will stay with you long after the last page, and rather than pitying them, Sweeney’s nuanced descriptions of each prisoner’s personality helps you understand that they are actively making their world better through reading, even if their world will never interact with the one outside the prison walls.

Sweeney structures her study through the investigation of three specific genres: urban fiction, narratives of victimization, and self-help books. She also examines the aspect of community building through prison book clubs, and the material comfort that comes from the mere act of holding a book—something that we in the free world take for granted. While those topics make Reading Is My Window an interesting and provocative read, the excerpted interviews are what take the book out of being purely academic and ground it in the personal.

Far too often, it is easy to do just what the chief librarian from Ohio said: forget the women. Prisoners are already a population of people that we often turn away from, so when the modifier of “woman” (and often “African American”) is added to that, remembering them as people who have worth becomes even less of a priority. By telling these women’s stories and taking them out of the institution, Sweeney takes the first step in driving home the point that if we forget these women, we may as well forget ourselves.

Reading Is My Window serves as a call to action. Sweeney spares no detail in describing the shoddy state of penal library systems, pointing out that many prison administrations see books as rewards for good behavior rather than necessary tools for prisoner rehabilitation. It’s safe to say that, after reading this book, you’ll want to consult the list of organizations that provide books to prisoners Sweeney includes at the end of the book to see how you can help advance the worthy cause of prison literacy.

Written by: Alyssa Vincent, April 24th 2010

Revolutionary Conceptions: Women, Fertility, and Family Limitation in America, 1760-1820

admin — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Susan E. Klepp

University of North Carolina Press

Susan E. Klepp’s Revolutionary Conceptions tracks the changes in family size ideals and the associated changes in family planning and women’s roles in early America. It is unsurprising that Klepp’s work highlights the limitations to women’s agency in family planning. Revolutionary Conceptions makes clear that women played an increasing role in determining the number of children they would have, and how this was tied to a greater presence of women outside of the domestic sphere.

Klepp reproduces letters from women who talk about their desire to have fewer children, which are usually followed by a revelation that woman, ultimately, gave birth to (by modern, typical North American views, anyway) a large number of children. Female slaves, were, alternately, wanted for their reproductive capacity and then sold for having had “too many” children when large families were no longer en vogue. Klepp also highlights some areas in which women had (limited) control. Women were brought to court to testify as experts in cases such as rape and infanticide; however, it was men who made the ultimate decisions in these cases. Klepp notes, “[I]n the colonies, month-to-month fertility decisions were left to women.”

Throughout the text, the author notes the difficulties in acquiring information about her topic. Early censuses, for example, routinely under-counted infants, particularly girls, which makes Klepp’s task of tracking changes in birth rates difficult. Klepp’s task is even more challenging due to the paucity of birth records for slaves. Further, when Klepp examines family planning, she quotes from letters and other texts in which women talk about limiting the number of children they would have, but the methods these women used were not shared.

In one interesting section, Klepp discusses herbs and concoctions used as emmenagogues (used to induce menstruation), abortifacients, and contraceptives, but notes, “Women usually made only oblique references to their use of these medicines and practices.” Despite this, Klepp is able to produce a highly detailed study of the issue.

I appreciate the comprehensiveness of Klepp’s approach. Not only does she support her study with statistics (represented in text as well as several graphs and tables), but she also includes artwork. Her chapter examining images of women describes and provides examples of portraits of women and their children, as well as husbands, from 1682 to approximately 1830. Klepp traces changes in women’s poses and the symbolism of the accessories that accompany them.

The main flaw I found in this chapter was in the accompanying examples. It is a shame that not all images that Klepp discusses are included in the book, and the black and white reproduction of the images that do appear has obscured many of the significant details Klepp describes; however, these issues do not detract from Klepp’s analysis.

Despite the vagaries, lost information, and reticence to have recorded information in the first place, Klepp has produced a highly detailed, fact-based, and—perhaps most importantly—interesting study of the declining number of children that early colonial American women bore, and what this meant for their agency both within and outside of the household.

Written by: Erin Schowalter, February 27th 2010

Freedom’s Teacher: The Life of Septima Clark

admin — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Katherine Mellen Charron

University of North Carolina Press

When Septima Clark began teaching in 1919, she quickly learned that good education is very much like community organizing. Both start by identifying pressing needs, involve the affected in formulating solutions, and give them a stake in the final outcome. Freedom's Teacher tells Clark’s story, and while the writing is drily academic, the book is an important reminder that each of us can make a dent in the status quo.

Clark was a teacher’s teacher, a skilled motivator and a driven, hard-working, proponent of human equality and the power of the classroom to encourage and provoke social change. Her personal life was not easy—her husband died young and she was forced to send her son to live with his paternal grandparents—but her ability to shift gears and accept new opportunities, even in late middle age, is inspiring.

Born to working class parents, her first job was on Johns Island, a tiny underdeveloped farm community off the coast of South Carolina. Clark did not go to the island by choice. In fact, the position was the only placement she could find since her native city, Charleston, refused to hire African Americans to teach in the city’s segregated schools. Johns Island, populated by largely illiterate Black farmers, challenged the fledgling educator whose would-be students lived in such intense poverty that they had to work in the fields instead of attending classes.

But what to do? Clark understood that getting islanders to allow their children to study would be difficult so she began going door to door, speaking about the benefits of formal coursework. “At every turn, Charron writes, “success mandated creativity.” It also mandated that Clark get involved in people’s everyday lives, not only learning Gullah, but also helping them write letters, fill out forms, and determine crop prices and proper wages. What’s more, free evening literacy classes for adults—taught by Clark—gave residents the tools to expand their options. Decades later, Clark brought this experience to the civil rights movement, crafting adult literacy classes to activate and empower those who attended.

The few years Clark spent on Johns Island radicalized her, and Charron describes Clark’s increased agitation over the miserable conditions her students had to contend with, including a decrepit, unheated school building, inadequate supplies, and non-existent text books. Protests against racial disparities set her on a course that would last six-plus decades. Furthermore, her quest for justice prompted her to get involved in numerous civic and civil rights groups including the Highlander Folk School, the YWCA, and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference’s Citizenship Education Program [CEP].

Women formed the crux of the CEP, teaching unschooled southerners how to pass literacy tests so that they could vote and then discussing everything from racist laws to activist strategies for changing them. Clark was the force behind much of the CEP’s work, toiling behind the scenes but receiving few accolades for her intrepid work.

Unfazed, Clark never lost sight of the big picture, continually condemning government spending on war and the concomitant failure to provide adequate funds “to end joblessness, slum conditions, and to correct educational deprivation in the ghettos.” Similarly, she never lost her faith in movements for world betterment and her cautious optimism—which lasted until her death in 1987—was infectious.

Clark’s example reminds us that change is never linear or free of backlash. While she picked her battles, Clark knew the importance of nonviolent resistance. As she saw it, watching from the sidelines was never an option.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, January 25th 2010

Sex Expression and American Women Writers, 1860-1940

admin — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Dale M. Bauer

University of North Carolina Press

The intriguing title of this book, Sex Expression and American Women Writers, may lead many to wonder what exactly the author means by “sex expression”? Luckily, Dale Bauer makes this clear in the introductory chapter to her study, and I will enlighten those of you who might not be able to immediately get the book.

Sex expression is a clever way of defining the act of writing (or not) about questions relating to sexuality, a term not coined by Bauer. This phrase is especially important because of the topic of Bauer’s study, and even more significant because of what this book brings to light. There are only few ways of finding information about women and sexuality, especially in the interlude specified: 1860-1940. The period Bauer describes is one during which women were gaining a greater freedom of expression in their writing, leading up to the excesses of the roaring twenties and full “sexual democratization.” In fact, women writers have an especially important role to play in describing society during that epoch, and have a gaze that is distinct from that which their male counterparts might express. One of the principal tasks of feminist analysis is an uncovering of these women’s views, and Bauer’s study is indeed an important piece in the construction of herstory, however archaic that term may now seem.

For those of us versed in woman’s writing, it might be surprising that as early as mid-nineteenth century, women writers were writing about sex. One of the details Bauer explains from the outset is the fact that sex expression does not necessarily mean description of the sexual act; it can be simply the way a woman carries herself, conscious of her innate femininity, or the way she chooses to dress. Bauer shows a plethora of these possibilities throughout her analysis. She focuses in on various categories for the writers and novels she explores that seem most significant for revealing sex expression in the period she focuses on: “ugliness, middle age, sex power, inarticulate sexuality, and therapeutic intimacy.” Bauer’s investigation of the changing association of sexuality with ugliness (and later on to beauty) is thought-provoking and her look at sex expression in middle age is timely. Although sometimes dense, this well written study, is quite comprehensive. Even authors that Bauer does not choose to focus on in her six chapters are mentioned, especially if they are relevant to her argumentation. Bauer is careful to include writers of varying ethnicities (e.g., Jewish and African American) and sexualities, and thus consciously diversifies her analysis. Highlights of the text include her chapters on authors Fannie Hurst (for its encompassing reach) and Edith Wharton, an author Bauer has previously written about. This book provides an important synopsis of both seminal and more obscure authors, particularly for those unfamiliar with the women’s literary canon of the time period (as I was).

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

Making Marriage Work: A History of Marriage and Divorce in the Twentieth-Century United States

admin — Sun, 24 May 2009 09:34:00 +0000

By Kristin Celello

University of North Carolina Press

In Making Marriage Work, Kristin Celello outlines the evolution of public perceptions and attitudes about marriage and divorce in the United States throughout the twentieth century. Drawing on magazine articles, films and popular books, she specifically looks at the development of the notion that being married requires a great deal of work and that a happy marriage is something worth working toward. In theory, both partners are expected to sacrifice, but in practice it has been women who have borne the brunt of the responsibility—even to the extent that being a wife has been popularly portrayed as a “full time job” rather than a relationship.

Celello begins with the public perception in the 1930s that the divorce rate was out of control. From there, she covers pre- and post-World War II issues of “war marriages” which, experts warned, required a lot of work and attitude adjustments (on behalf of wives, of course) in order to survive. The book also looks at the rise of “expert” marital advice and the astronomical growth of the marriage counseling/couples therapy industry. Celello cites evidence such as articles from The Ladies’ Home Journal column “Can this Marriage be Saved?”—the answer to which is always a resounding yes, as long as the wife is willing to readjust her attitude and expectations—she also traces the development of the feminist movement and its impact on the national discussion about marriage and family. Not only did the media convince people that marriage is something to work on, Celello cleverly illustrates how counselors and psychologists ensured the growth of their professions by promoting the idea that it was impossible to have a successful marriage without extensive advice and professional help.

Celello moves on to look at the 1960s and ‘70s discourse during which some feminists would push for a more egalitarian notion of marriage, while others would wonder why the institution shouldn’t be abolished altogether. This invariably led to religious and other conservative thinkers reinforcing the idea that a woman’s ideal job is as a wife and mother. To that end, dubious studies were cited “proving” that when women failed to make their marriages work, their children suffered irreparable harm. The divorce rate did reach an all-time high in 1978, but Celello asserts that part of the reason for the declining divorce rate over the final two decades was the increased number of couples who opted to cohabitate (or not) rather than marry in the first place.

Careful attention is paid to race and class issues within the greater discussion. Celello points out that while the emphasis has generally been on ensuring that white middle class couples conform to the marriage-as-a-sacred-political-institution model, movements encouraging African Americans and low-income women to view “traditional” marriage as a ticket out of poverty have also presented themselves over the years. She clearly illustrates that while the idea that “marriage is work” has been a given for decades, the nature of that work and the reasons for performing it have morphed several times, reflecting changing cultural values and expectations.

Overall it’s a lively history, and any fans of Stephanie Coontz’s work will likely appreciate it. Those who lean a little less scholarly, but still like to make fun of Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, and the rest of the good-women-can-and should-keep-a-marriage-alive-forever peddlers will find it pretty accessible and enjoyable too.

Written by: Staci Schoff, May 24th 2009

Terror in the Heart of Freedom: Citizenship, Sexual Violence, and the Meaning of Race in the Postemancipation South

admin — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 17:16:00 +0000

By Hannah Rosen

University of North Carolina Press

Hannah Rosen's Terror in the Heart of Freedom is an essential historical document. This text is a detailed analysis of the connection between gendered rhetoric, sexual violence, and the oppression and resistance of freed people during the reconstruction era. Rosen demonstrates a thorough understanding of gender, race, and power dynamics and how these issues are employed through politics on different levels.

Terror in the Heart of Freedom is not light reading. The subject matter is intense and often disturbing considering the brutal gendered and racial violence that occurred during the reconstruction in the United States. Rosen builds a virtual theatre for these events, illustrating the antebellum attitudes of many whites, the social and political situation of southern urban areas after the civil war, and the radical reclamation of public space by Black citizens at this time. The extreme discomfort that White people felt during this Black reclamation of space was palpable, and the violence that ensued was a reassertion of power on the part of White men. Hannah Rosen extrapolates on these events, displaying White men's recreation of a racist rhetoric that was used to oppress the newly freed population, and explores how much of this rhetoric was, in fact, based in gender.

One of the most poignant points that Hannah Rosen makes is in noting the repercussions for Black women speaking out about the sexual violence they experienced during this turbulent time. Rosen extrapolates on this further, explaining that these women were not only articulating their experiences, but were reframing the common narratives of Black women's sexuality, while also claiming their space as women and citizens. Indeed, as Rosen points out, in this process, they also challenged the conventional way for women to handle sexual assault.

Aside from the implications of sexual assault during the reconstruction, Hannah Rosen very concisely handles the intricacies of federal versus local authority at this time. This is no easy task, as the actual written law, and the de facto law of the time were often so contradictory. Rosen leads the reader through these complications rather gracefully, not allowing them to snag on the details. The grit of policy is extremely relevant here, and aids in explaining the dynamics of this very specific social atmosphere.

At 384 pages, Terror in the Heart of Freedom has over 100 pages of notes and footnotes. The text stands out as a meticulously-researched, well-written, and, most of all, vital historical document. Hannah Rosen has written a detailed analysis of the convoluted relationships between power, rhetoric, race, and gender during what could have been a period of victory for equality in this country. Consider it necessary for your history reading list.

Written by: Kate Wadkins, April 3rd 2009

Sweet Tea: Black Gay Men of the South – An Oral History

admin — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 00:50:00 +0000

By E. Patrick Johnson

University of North Carolina Press

The African-American community and the gay community have come under scrutiny since the passing of Proposition 8 banning gay marriage in California. Black voters reportedly came out in unprecedented numbers to support the ban, furthering the stereotype of rampant homophobia among the black community.

Northwestern University professor E. Patrick Johnson has compiled an excellent collection of stories and interviews with gay black men from the South in Sweet Tea: Black Gay Men of the South. A strength of this book lies in its ability to highlight the relationship between the gay community and the black community as well as the relationship between the gay community and the South.

Johnson has chosen to keep the interviews in the original transcribed versions. This ensures that each narrative is distinctive. The conversations are often lyrical and musical, particularly with the older subjects.

The stories inspire a varied set of emotions and responses—many are heartbreaking, some are infuriating, and there are a few that will leave smiles and chuckles. This text is extremely readable because Johnson steps back and allows for the narrators’ voices to shine through. For the uninitiated, a helpfully glossary of Southern or gay phrases is included.

Oral histories are important in the African-American community. During the days of slavery when it was illegal to teach black people to read, narratives were handed down to generations through oral histories. Johnson links his stories to that tradition by using idiosyncratic voices of his subjects.

The book is organized into different topics, which creates some confusion because the reader has to remember interview subjects who make appearances throughout the book. Topics range from growing up in the South, the "down low", and AIDS/HIV. Most laudable is Johnson’s inclusion of transsexuals and transvestites—a population that often is ignored.

This is an important book because Johnson provides a forum for a topic that is often shrouded in misinformation, cliché, and prejudice. Black gay men have the unfortunate burden of straddling two subcultures that are sometimes at odds with each other. After reading this book, readers will also learn that the South’s reaction to the gay community is more complicated than just "Southerners hate gay people."

Written by: Peter Piatkowski, January 22nd 2009

Worried Sick: A Prescription for Health in an Overtreated America

admin — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 12:43:00 +0000

By Norman Hadler

University of North Carolina Press

It is refreshing to see find a doctor who is willing to question the establishment. In Worried Sick, Dr. Norman Hadler begins with the observation that the national health-care plans of “advanced” countries (other than the United States) cost a quarter of what Americans spend on health insurance, their survival rates are higher, and their citizens have more years of a better quality life. Rather than focusing on extending life, he believes, we should focus on maximizing the possibility for high-quality life, with eighty-five years old being the aim for a ripe old age. Hadler believes life circumstances are often the reason people cannot cope with their medical issues and recommends making changes in work, family life, and self-care rather than turning immediately to medication or surgery.

Hadler takes readers through many common illnesses: heart disease, cholesterol, colon problems, bone fractures, and neuromuscular disorders. For each, he highlights the treatments commonly prescribed in America, many of which he considers ineffective, a waste of money, and perhaps a risk to one’s health. He reminds readers that certain aches and pains, a reduction in bone density, and other minor ailments are natural elements of aging. He tries to turn the dialogue away from “What is wrong with me?” and toward “Why am I unable to cope with this episode?”

The last two chapters are the strongest part of the book. Hadler lays out an intriguing proposal for a health-care plan in the United States. He suggests it be an employer-based plan, and even provides the possibility of a state-based plan, but he does not explain why it shouldn’t be national. In his plan, employers would contribute twelve percent of a worker's annual wage. One percent would go towards administrative costs, one percent toward profit, and the rest toward an indemnity plan. There would be a conflict of interest policy, and no one working for the plan would earn more than five times the plan’s average employee wage.

Worried Sick is a book worth keeping on the shelf to double check the risks and benefits of a doctor’s suggested treatment. The ideas in the book deserve a larger audience, and I hope Hadler will collaborate with a professional for his next book because the clumsy writing style and complicated phrasings results in important ideas being lost within the text and can dissuade the reader from continuing on. The proposed health plan also deserves discussion, but would generate more interest if presented in a more accessible form. Hopefully, the author’s next book will accomplish that.

Written by: Jessica Jacobson, August 2nd 2008