Soul Surfer

     While you might have heard of or seen the movie, and you probably knew that it was a true story, you might not have known that Soul Surfer was originally the book written by Bethany Hamilton herself. I myself only found the book by accident while browsing my library's biography section. Of course, this is the true story of how she lost her arm to a shark attack and got back on the board, as well as a story of her faith and how she felt and reacted to things.

     The story begins with the morning before the shark attack, but Hamilton soon goes back through the story of how her parents met, how they moved to Kauai, and how faith came into their family. A large part of this is so that we can understand how these are important to her, and to provide context. I liked this because it makes her faith a natural part of the conversation. It's not something that's tacked on at the end, but something she comments on throughout. It's just a part of who she is and what shapes her outlook on life:

     "The way I see it, putting your faith in God is something that each person has gotta come to on his or her own. It's your own personal relationship with Him; a bond that's as unique as a finger-print" (Hamilton 134).

     Even as someone for whom faith is important, I have felt the frustration of being given or made to give a thrown-together testimonial, cookie-cut and complete with an argument at the end. But Bethany Hamilton's book reads like her own testimony. It's not done for the purpose of converting

people. She just tells her own story, and lets God do the rest.

     Hamilton also writes about how she has never quite adjusted to her celebrity status. She prefers her life in Kauai and the community, look-out-for-your-neighbor feel over the rush of big cities like New York or L.A. At one point, she even writes:

      "There are lots of homeless people in New York, and that made me really sad. The guys at MTV had me go on some kind of spending spree but there wasn't really anything that I was interested in buying... So while we were doing this, I passed by a lady sitting on a steaming sewer grate to keep warm. I felt sorry for her and tried to help out by giving her some of our lunch and a little bit of money. The people I was with acted like it was some kind of big deal. It's not. I think it's simply what Jesus meant when he said 'When you do good things to the least of these you do it to me.' It amazes me that so many people in New York can just walk by a stranger who is cold and sick on the street and not even look them in the eye" (Hamilton 166).

    At the time she wrote this book, the movie adaptation of Soul Surfer was still in the works. In fact, they hadn't even decided who would be portraying Hamilton yet, although she was pretty excited about the fact that she would be her own stunt double.

    Hamilton writes in a very conversational style. Although I've never met her, I imagine it's a little similar to speaking with her. Although, since she wasn't quite comfortable with her celebrity status at the time it was written, at least, there's probably some here that would be left unsaid otherwise. Because of the conversational style, it's also just over 200 pages, with a moderate amount of words per page. She also includes photos, taken by her brother, taken throughout her life at that point.

     I would certainly recommend Bethany Hamilton's Soul Surfer, especially if you have a weekend, and even if you'll only have a few minutes a day or every other day. It's a simple story, which could easily have blown up into just inspiration or just a tragic accident. But as she shows, it's just her story.

   So please enjoy it, and I'll see you on the next shelf!
   --Rin

Wonder Woman Unbound

For this post, I'll be moving into Tim Hanley's Wonder Woman Unbound: The Curious History of the World's Most Famous Heroine.

I'll admit, in most cases, superhero history books are an immediate caution sign for me. A few that I've read in the past seem very intent on promoting their covered hero above any other, to the point of repeatedly criticizing other heroes and in some cases, even referring to them as "knock-offs." I don't believe that's inherently how existing in the same genre works. Now, if the character had a similar motif and similar origin story, perhaps even a similar-sounding civilian name, you might have a decent case for it. But existing in the same genre alone is not cause for cries of "knock-off!"

However, Hanley does a decent job of avoiding that. While there is a decent amount of praise lavished on Golden Age Wonder Woman in comparison to other Golden Age superheroes like Batman or Superman, for the most part, his analysis appears thoughtful, if not unbiased. In the first few chapters alone, we're treated to an interesting analysis which compares Robin to both Steve Trevor, Diana's love interest, and Etta Candy (and the Holliday Girls), and discusses how some of the same tropes might be present in Wonder Woman and Catwoman.

And of course, what would a book on Wonder Woman be without this quote by William Moulton Marston:
         
         "Not even girls want to be girls so long as our feminine archetype lacks strength, power....the obvious remedy is to create a feminine character with all the strength of Superman plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman" (Hanley 41).

The book covers her history in detail, not even shying away from the profuse usage of bondage imagery in the Marston years. Hanley writes about the use of bondage from all sides, comparing its frequency to other comics, and analyzing Marston's claims about bondage. He argues that it is a very double-sided metaphor, both supported and contradicted by Marston's usage of it, both in the story and in other works. While the binding of Wonder Woman certainly has an objectifying element to it, one cannot ignore that whenever she is bound, she always breaks free. (This is perhaps why his title, Wonder Woman Unbound, reflects that metaphor)

       "Dismissing the bondage imagery to focus on the positive, feminist aspects of Wonder Woman means that one would have to dismiss the theory of submission that's at the root of bondage. By cutting away those roots, you lose the foundation of Wonder Woman's feminism as well. To state that this fetishism invalidated Wonder Woman's feminism, one would have to ignore the undeniably unique and progressive elements of the character. Both approaches are wrong; Wonder Woman was feminist and fetishist" (72).

Hanley continues through her rewriting in the Silver Age, after the book Seduction of the Innocent and the resulting court hearings resulted in the Comics Code. How the once-proud Wonder Woman was reduced to doing impossible tasks to satisfy an increasingly jealous Steve Trevor, and how this was a trend with multiple female characters in that era. Hanley specifically cites Supergirl, although her relationship to her hero is a little different, Lois Lane, and Carol Ferris, who arguably receives the better end of this deal.

He criticizes the problems of the "mod-era" Wonder Woman, pointing out the wasted potential with a depowered Diana Prince. After all, Bruce Wayne is Batman without any powers, and so it seems contradictory that Diana would be written to resign from the Justice League and then become hellbent on avenging Steve Trevor, to the point that much of her strong, positive feminine imagery would be lost. While he does celebrate her return to her roots as of the early 1970s, he notes that the feminist theory behind this reboot ignores much of Marston's original imagery. In effect, their "Golden Age Wonder Woman" is merely a symbol, according to Hanley.

The book also covers the adaptation of Wonder Woman starring Lynda Carter. While he does praise the show, he is also quick to point out that, unlike in the original, which implied any woman could become strong, this still had strong implications that Wonder Woman was the only one who could. Nevertheless, at the time of this book's publication, it was one of her only appearances outside the comic book medium, aside from her appearances in animated series like The Justice League. (It is somewhat problematic that he seems to dismiss her animated roles, but that's a different story--or is it?) Indeed, it would not be until Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice, that she would make her big screen debut, which I unfortunately have not seen yet, but hope that it will do her justice.

But even more fascinatingly, Hanley writes of Wonder Woman's history alongside women's history, pointing out areas where she either reflected or failed to reflect women of the time. Some of it contains things I didn't even know about! For example, did you know that in the 1950's, many women were not only involved in Civil Rights activity, but also in working in labor unions to get better working conditions, maternity leave, and on-site child care? These are the things that are sometimes even brushed over in Women's History classes!

And of course, Hanley also takes the time to focus on other female characters in comics--both those whose strength comes from their femininity (Barbara Gordon is his example) and those whose strength comes apart from it (he selects the Emerald Empress). It is somewhat problematic that in the Emerald Empress section, he implies that using femininity as a strength is something women only do when they aren't strong enough to have power without it, and this idea seems bizarrely out-of-place with the rest of the book. Nevertheless, it is nice to see a guy who can write about comic book characters while still giving mostly fair reflections of those who are not his main subject.

Although Hanley has an overall positive view of the character, he continually emphasizes that to see her as merely a feminist icon is to lose a lot of the nuance that makes Wonder Woman...Wonder Woman. She is and has the capacity to be an incredibly nuanced character, someone strong and compassionate, both maternal and independent. She is Diana, she is Wonder Woman, and she could definitely use some more attention.

While some of Hanley's theories are problematic--in particular, the implication that Gwen Stacy of Spider-Man was killed as a sort of roundabout "punishment" for being too much of a "good girl" in a society that wanted someone more loose, fun, and sexy for their hero, as well as his diminishing the heroic last stand of Supergirl in Crisis on Infinite Earths--the work is overall handled in a well-thought yet enjoyable way. If you have any interest in superheroes, especially Wonder Woman, I would highly recommend Wonder Woman Unbound: The Curious History of the World's Most Famous Heroine.

I suppose you've probably noticed I've learned how to include pictures in my posts. I'll likely add them to the others as well, once I find some that I like.

But in any event, I'll see you on the next shelf.
 --Rin

Protagonists, Femininity, and Cross-Identification

So, about twenty minutes ago, I posted on William Deresiewicz's A Jane Austen Education. However, I had a few additional observations which might have side-tracked a little from discussion of the book itself. Rather, it would have brought the focus down repeatedly into specific observations, which I felt warranted their own post.

In his chapter on Emma, he writes about a seminar in popular fiction which he had taken. The class read works such as Sherlock Holmes, Edgar Allan Poe, Dracula, and The Maltese Falcon--and then Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca.

During the class discussion, the professor asked the (mostly male) class, "What's the matter? Didn't you like it?"

Deresiewicz answered, "I don't know. I can't really relate to it. It's kind of--girlie."

While the guys murmured their assent, "One of the female students noted that although women learn to cross-identify with male heroes--out of necessity, if nothing else, since that's what literature mainly gives you--men are only ever asked to identify with other men."

It's an intriguing observation. And kind of interesting that so many people never have to think about it. Although female protagonists are a little more common nowadays--Dorothy of L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Katniss of The Hunger Games, Cassia of the Matched Trilogy, and outside of strict literature, Wonder Woman, Sailor Moon, or any given Miyazaki heroine--it's still almost inevitable that at some point, a female viewer will end up identifying with a male hero.

Even I, as a woman, can remember identifying with male characters--Mr. Spock, (although I would later add Uhura and Saavik) Robin in "Batman," Peter Parker,  Luke in the Shadow Children series.

Again, nowadays, there is often a female character--a supporting protagonist or the like--for us to identify with. But it would be interesting to look into the ratio of female protagonists to male ones, and to compare how many are in books and other media intended specifically for women, as opposed to the number in gender-neutral works and works targeted for men.

In some ways, it's reflective of how society expects us to act. We, as women, are asked to go into "man's world," to take up traditionally masculine jobs and roles--in some cases, we're told that our femininity is a shackle, that we have to choose between being strong and being feminine. One, or the other, with no in-between and no crossover. How often do we, as a society, ask that a man take on a traditionally feminine job or role? How often do we ridicule the ones that do? And what would it take to create a real, meaningful dialogue, in which people listen instead of simply waiting to respond, that addresses the strengths of both the feminine and the masculine?

I'll see you on the next shelf,
  --Rin.

A Jane Austen Education

So for the first post, I'll be doing something a little different than I'd initially planned. At the same time, in a way, it's also going back to my roots as a blogger.

In A Jane Austen Education: How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship, and the Things That Really Matter, book critic William Deresiewicz takes the reader through his personal journey through Jane Austen, beginning with the moody university student who would never have touched something as silly as one of those books, through his growth as a person, and finally, his marriage.

Initially forced to read Emma by his college professor, he initially regards the book as a tedious slog in which nothing happens. That is, up until this exchange. During a game designed to flatter the heroine, people are told to say either "one thing very clever,...or two things moderately clever,...or three things very dull indeed." Miss Bates, a simple spinster, responds rather self-consciously that she shouldn't have any trouble with that--she'd be sure to say three dull things as soon as she opens her mouth.

Emma, carried away by her sense of superiority, retorts, "Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me--but you will be limited as to a number--only three at once"

Deresiewicz writes, "It was a shocking piece of cruelty, all the worse for the way its victim received it." Miss Bates concludes that it must be her own fault--after all, why would Emma say such a thing unless she was making herself disagreeable? This is the turning point for Deresiewicz, who realizes, "Emma's cruelty, which I was so quick to criticize, was nothing, I saw, but the mirror image of my own. The boredom and contempt the book aroused were not signs of Austen's ineptitude; they were the exact responses she wanted me to have." It's at this point that he realizes that all the trivia and small talk isn't puttering around waiting for the point--or evidence of the absence of a point--in fact, it is the point.

As he reads the rest of Emma with a new set of eyes, he goes on to make many astute observations, one of the most poignant being the way in which Austen taught him "what it means to see and think and talk like a woman," and how "the very idea that those things might be worth my while had seemed ridiculous to me before I encountered her."

In other words, Austen didn't seek to escape from femininity or the domestic sphere, regarding it as inherently unimportant, but instead sought to show the perspective from its true light--as something every bit as valuable as the things out in "man's world" (to borrow a term from elsewhere).

Although he would eventually read her other books as a fan now, instead of a cynical skeptic, Deresiewicz isn't afraid to write about areas where he didn't get it--or even to say when he outright disliked characters or situations. It seems poor Fanny (of Mansfield Park) just can't get much love from a modern audience. However, as opposed to some, who write what amounts to, "I didn't like her. Why can't Mary be the protagonist?" he is still able to recognize Austen's intent in writing her, and even though he never does come to love Fanny, he is still able to learn from the book and to recognize her for the qualities she has. That's not something I see very often in the modern world.

Deresiewicz views the pages of Austen's works with a fresh insight, ironically brought about by his intentional alienation from her, and makes several connections which I had never thought of before. Granted, I was fourteen years old--probably a bit too young for them, especially since I wanted to take things 100% seriously, whether they were meant to be or not. Nevertheless, I had never much cared for Emma before. Probably has something to do with its being a comedy, and me, in my 14-year-old, modern, literal frame of mind, wanting very badly to see it as a completely serious romance. I've begun re-reading it with these new insights, and already I'm shocked at some of the things that flew over my head.

Deresiewicz writes in a conversational style, which is fitting, considering this is the narrative of his personal journey. I appreciated how he never seems to talk down to the reader--although he specifically notes it as something he learned to get over during his trip through Pride and Prejudice. The reader is an equal partner in this journey. Perhaps because of this, it reads much more like a novel than a literary analysis. Again, what analysis is there is written in a conversational style, so it's much more like a dialogue than a lecture.

The book in total is a little over 250 pages, and certainly worth the read.

I'll see you on the next shelf!
  --RinRin