LaBlonde Book Club
What did I do on my blogging hiatus? Well, I worked, and I read. One of the things I read was Barbra Kingsolver's "Prodigal Summer". I've read several books by this author, and I think I remember enjoying them all. "The Bean Trees" was good, and so was "Poisonwood Bible". Plus, I was at work, and I needed some reading material (*ahem*), and it was either "Prodigal Summer" or "The Inuit of Northern Alaska". Sometimes, life's choices are bleak.
And they were about to get much bleaker. Seriously, I hated this book more than anything I've read since "Angels and Demons" (or as I like to call it "Cell Phones Don't Have a Dial Tone, Dickhole!!"). However, it wasn't just scientific inaccuracy or a non-acquaintance with the physics of everyday life that made me hate "Prodigal Summer" so much; it was that it might as well have been titled "Barbra Kingsolver Goes to a Womyn's Drum Circle and Becomes a Really Crappy Writer".
The book is set in rural Appalachia, a place to which I've personally never been, but where apparently, everyone is a stereotype. You've got the gossiping shopkeeper, the sanctimonious Bible-thumper, the eccentric, college-educated environmentalist, and especially the deeply good character, the one who in spite of all the indignity that life has thrown at her, never loses her sense of humor. This character, of course, bites it. Hard.
It tells the story of three women: a young one, a middle-aged one, and an old one. Perhaps what Kingsolver is trying to tell us through these characters is that there are three ages of woman, each beautiful and rewarding in its own way, and each with its own trials and glories. That the only way to move on is to put the pain of the previous stage behind you. Or perhaps she just hates her readers, and is trying to commit murder by bludgeoning us with an obvious metaphor.
One of my problems with the book is that within the first twenty pages, Kingsolver has already mapped out the specific life lesson that each protagonist is supposed to learn during the course of the novel. As the story progresses, she basically stops trying, and just describes each new character in terms of the life lesson he or she will be required to learn (see: 'stereotypes', above). For example, one of the women in the story was the only child of estranged parents, and now feels smothered by her new husband's many siblings. Do you think that she'll see the value of family, possibly involving an adorable child (see: 'deeply good character bites it', above), before the end of the book? Ooooh, I'm voting for 'yes'!
The thing I object to the most, though, is the character of the old woman, or rather, Kingsolver's treatment of her. Of course, she is feisty, full of piss and vinegar, and A Lesson To Us All. But Kingsolver spends so many pages describing the beauty of the real female body and the wonder that is using it to bang a jailbait farmhand, yet the old woman never gets any. No, she has to be content with some low-level cuddling. I have a serious problem with this, especially in light of how many words Kingsolver wastes describing the sexual cycles of her female protagonists - seriously, the book takes place over three months, yet we get to read about a biologically impossible number of ovulations, menstruations, and "not so fresh feelings". The actions of the younger women in the book are guided by these rhythms; mostly guided into having vaguely described sex-lite. They do it again and again and, God help me, again. It's because of Kingsolver's florid yet repetitive prose describing the joy of all things female that I don't think it's a coincidence that the only woman in the book who isn't fertile also doesn't get to have any sex. Apparently, she doesn't even want it, but is content to think back warmly on her younger, possibly more passionate days (once again, Kingsolver is long on words and short on details). Is Kingsolver suggesting that while men are innately sexual, female sexuality only exists in the context of our fertility? That the only reason a woman would become aroused is because of a basic biological drive, and only then because the author is trying to create yet another tremendously labored metaphor (this time to moths and coyotes)? Didn't the drum circle teach her anything?? But it also reminds me - I could dissect the point that each protagonist in the story is also metaphorically associated with an aspect of nature, but I'm tired of typing the word metaphor, and really, it's just a metaphor in the broadest sense, like me saying, "This book is a giant pile of crap". See? I've just drawn a parallel between crap, which comes out of your ass, and "Prodigal Summer" which was obviously pulled out of someone's ass*. Oprah's Book Club, here I come!
P.S. Another major theme is that rugged, yet taut young men are all desperately horny for women between the ages of 30 and 45. I'd like to savage this point as well, but I'm not going to. Mostly because I'm really, really hoping that it is true. Oh yeah, two more years and then its all the strong-but-silent high school seniors I can handle. Thanks, Barbra Kingsolver!
Update: I seem to remember Al Franken making a similar joke in his excellent book "Lies...". If so, my apologies to Mr. Franken for being so goddamned funny.
And they were about to get much bleaker. Seriously, I hated this book more than anything I've read since "Angels and Demons" (or as I like to call it "Cell Phones Don't Have a Dial Tone, Dickhole!!"). However, it wasn't just scientific inaccuracy or a non-acquaintance with the physics of everyday life that made me hate "Prodigal Summer" so much; it was that it might as well have been titled "Barbra Kingsolver Goes to a Womyn's Drum Circle and Becomes a Really Crappy Writer".
The book is set in rural Appalachia, a place to which I've personally never been, but where apparently, everyone is a stereotype. You've got the gossiping shopkeeper, the sanctimonious Bible-thumper, the eccentric, college-educated environmentalist, and especially the deeply good character, the one who in spite of all the indignity that life has thrown at her, never loses her sense of humor. This character, of course, bites it. Hard.
It tells the story of three women: a young one, a middle-aged one, and an old one. Perhaps what Kingsolver is trying to tell us through these characters is that there are three ages of woman, each beautiful and rewarding in its own way, and each with its own trials and glories. That the only way to move on is to put the pain of the previous stage behind you. Or perhaps she just hates her readers, and is trying to commit murder by bludgeoning us with an obvious metaphor.
One of my problems with the book is that within the first twenty pages, Kingsolver has already mapped out the specific life lesson that each protagonist is supposed to learn during the course of the novel. As the story progresses, she basically stops trying, and just describes each new character in terms of the life lesson he or she will be required to learn (see: 'stereotypes', above). For example, one of the women in the story was the only child of estranged parents, and now feels smothered by her new husband's many siblings. Do you think that she'll see the value of family, possibly involving an adorable child (see: 'deeply good character bites it', above), before the end of the book? Ooooh, I'm voting for 'yes'!
The thing I object to the most, though, is the character of the old woman, or rather, Kingsolver's treatment of her. Of course, she is feisty, full of piss and vinegar, and A Lesson To Us All. But Kingsolver spends so many pages describing the beauty of the real female body and the wonder that is using it to bang a jailbait farmhand, yet the old woman never gets any. No, she has to be content with some low-level cuddling. I have a serious problem with this, especially in light of how many words Kingsolver wastes describing the sexual cycles of her female protagonists - seriously, the book takes place over three months, yet we get to read about a biologically impossible number of ovulations, menstruations, and "not so fresh feelings". The actions of the younger women in the book are guided by these rhythms; mostly guided into having vaguely described sex-lite. They do it again and again and, God help me, again. It's because of Kingsolver's florid yet repetitive prose describing the joy of all things female that I don't think it's a coincidence that the only woman in the book who isn't fertile also doesn't get to have any sex. Apparently, she doesn't even want it, but is content to think back warmly on her younger, possibly more passionate days (once again, Kingsolver is long on words and short on details). Is Kingsolver suggesting that while men are innately sexual, female sexuality only exists in the context of our fertility? That the only reason a woman would become aroused is because of a basic biological drive, and only then because the author is trying to create yet another tremendously labored metaphor (this time to moths and coyotes)? Didn't the drum circle teach her anything?? But it also reminds me - I could dissect the point that each protagonist in the story is also metaphorically associated with an aspect of nature, but I'm tired of typing the word metaphor, and really, it's just a metaphor in the broadest sense, like me saying, "This book is a giant pile of crap". See? I've just drawn a parallel between crap, which comes out of your ass, and "Prodigal Summer" which was obviously pulled out of someone's ass*. Oprah's Book Club, here I come!
P.S. Another major theme is that rugged, yet taut young men are all desperately horny for women between the ages of 30 and 45. I'd like to savage this point as well, but I'm not going to. Mostly because I'm really, really hoping that it is true. Oh yeah, two more years and then its all the strong-but-silent high school seniors I can handle. Thanks, Barbra Kingsolver!
Update: I seem to remember Al Franken making a similar joke in his excellent book "Lies...". If so, my apologies to Mr. Franken for being so goddamned funny.
posted by La Blonde Parisienne at 11:29 AM
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