Ack! My internet at home is out! We called last night, after various attempts at resetting our modem, to be told that there was a fiber problem in our area and the internet would be back up in 4-6 hours. Upon rising this morning at 5 a.m. the internet was still out. So we called again and this time they said the internet was working but the cable was not connecting with our modem. We can bring our modem in during their ridiculously limited hours, or a technician will be out to our house on Friday sometime between 8:30 and 9:30. Grr. Oh, and would you like to upgrade your access speed? It would be cheaper than what you are paying now. After much round and round and grilling the person, Bookman gets it out of her that the reduced rate is only for six months and then we will pay more than what we are paying now. No thanks! Just fix the internet I already pay for!
So I wrote my blog on my internet-less computer last night and brought it in to work this morning on a flash drive so I can post it. Sigh.
Here’s a question for you. Do you read books that are generally thought to be good but that are, in no relation to the story or plot, offensive to you in some way?
For example, not long ago I read a glowing review in the London Review of Books about three of Diego Marani’s books including New Finnish Grammar. They all sound really good, like books I would like, complex and interesting with intriguing language and style. I want to read them. But then the reviewer mentions that Marani doesn’t seem to like women very much, that he exhibits a “squeamishness at women’s bodies.” I was immediately turned off wanting to read his books. Of course then I start thinking that maybe I am wrong to dismiss what sound like otherwise good books just because the author has a woman problem. And then I think, hell no, I am not going to put up with yet another man’s inability to cope with half the human race.
And then I wonder, am I being too sensitive? Would I be bothered by a book that was racist? Anti-semitic? Homophobic? Yes, I would. There is no reason to subject myself to any of it.
Now, to clarify, I’m talking about current novels by authors who should know better. I am talking about novels in which the misogyny, etc, occurs not as part of a certain character, not as part of a broader theme or point the author is trying to make, but is just there because of the author’s own personal prejudices. It is one thing to read a novel written in the early 20th century or before when times and beliefs were different, there is a certain tolerance I can bring to my reading, a “they didn’t know better” sort of suspension of judgment. This does not mean I suspend my critical faculties, only that I take cultural context into consideration.
I find it not so easy to be forgiving with current novels. Yet, I still waffle and I feel like a dope for it. Why can’t I be firm and decisive on the matter? It bothers me that I can’t. At this point I am pretty sure I won’t read Marani’s books but I also know that if a woman friend I trust read New Finnish Grammar, raved about it and told me I should read it, I just might do it.
So I ask you, wonderful, thoughtful reader, how do you handle such books? Do you read them anyway and grind your teeth and try to ignore the offensive parts for the sake of an otherwise good book? Or do you flat-out refuse to read such a book? And how do you decide what and how much you will or won’t tolerate?
It’s a very good question, and one that i’m sure has no right or wrong reply. i think i mostly read (fiction, at least) for quality of writing – style/vocab/form etc. more than content…but definitely have difficulties when the content dwells on material offensive to me, understanding that it’s a representation of experience, but still…sometimes i have to put the book down, no matter how well written, other times i can power through (perhaps because it’s so well-written), i’m sure there are so many factors. I certainly believe one of the primary functions of literature is to provide us with empathetic experiences – envisioning world outside of ourselves, so I do NOT recommend avoiding books because of their content (a sort of censorship) – rather, finding out for yourself, and I guess pursuing that which broadens AND deepens your experiencing of the world…AND pleases you. Thanks for prompting the questions.
N Filbert, thanks for your thoughtful comment! You are right that there are many factors involved. If only it could be an easy black-and-white decision!
I think one of the fundamental reasons people read is to understand and rationalize people who have wildly differing views of the world around them than the reader does.Reading gives you a mainline into the collective human condition. It doesn’t matter whether it jives entirely with your worldview or offends it. Both works of literature maintain an equal value (if not quality). They are the words and thoughts of a single human being placed on paper and deserve consideration.
Ryan, oh yes, I agree about reading to understand different points of view but I don’t agree that books filled with racism or misogyny are particularly deserving of consideration unless it is nonfiction and one is reading in order to refute the argument. I don’t expect novels to be all sunshine and roses and leave out the uglier side of human nature, but an author whose prejudices spill out into his books don’t make them easy ones to choose to read.
As I think back upon the novels I have most enjoyed they are always peopled with individuals I admire and respect. While Henry Perowne in Ian McEwan’s Saturday is certainly among them, Michael Beard in Solar is definitely not. I don’t know who admires or respects Michael Beard. And while I read the novel to its end, it was only because it was written by McEwan who tried to tackle the issue of climate change. But to my mind, making its hero so unlikable made it impossible to appreciate this increasingly important issue.
Richard, but there is a difference yes, between creating a character who is intentionally discomforting and a novel a novel that degrades women or Jews or name your group because of the author’s own prejudices? Humbert Humbert in Lolita is a completely reprehensible character but that was the point. It is different than say a Norman Mailer book in which women are routinely portrayed as object for sex and abuse.
Reading a novel is like spending extended time with people in a particular situation. The people can include the author, the characters and the plot. I’ve stopped reading several books that got good reviews or are classics because I didn’t want to feel ‘soiled’ by the experiences of the characters, couldn’t like the main character or couldn’t care what happened to the characters. I’m particularly bothered by self-destructive characters who race pell-mell to their own destruction when it’s obvious to the reader that a little insight would cause them to redirect their action. I had trouble caring about John Banville’s characters unfortunately. I felt the same way about Madame Bovary (what a twit!). I have to try again with Swann’s Way, because my Great Books group is reading it in December, but I found the main character extremely tedious. I wanted him to get a real life. Thanks for a great question.
Kathleen, thanks for your comment! It is hard sometime to read a book in which the characters are unlikeable. I don’t have to like the characters and they can even be offensive. My difficulty arises when the unsavoriness is not tied to a character or the actual story but is a result of the author’s prejudices, for instance a male author who writes about a woman being raped and liking it. I hope Swann’s Way goes well for you. I very much like that one. That Marcel is tedious is all part of the story.
Tough question. In theory I believe the art should stand on its own, the artist’s biography shouldn’t be a factor. But in reality, my opinion is coloured by what I know of the artist. The only example that immediately comes to mind is Ender’s Game, which I loved, but when I learned of Orson Scott Card’s political views I was somewhat dismayed (and I’ve no interest in reading anything else by him.)
I quite liked New Finnish Grammar, but I hadn’t heard that about Marani till now. I’d still recommend the book, and assure you that misogyny doesn’t come across, but I can’t help you unknow what you know.
Isabella, it is hard sometimes to separate the art from the artist and knowing biography can be a big turn off even if what you don’t like about the writer’s personal life doesn’t necessarily find its way into the books. I thought I had seen that a blogger had read New Finnish Grammar but I couldn’t remember who so I am glad you mentioned it! I am glad to know his misogyny doesn’t come across in it. Since the reviewer was writing about three of Marani’s books, maybe it is in those and NFG escapes. I will reconsider reading it now!
My approach to these things is pretty similar to yours. I do try to take context into account and to be very careful distinguish a particular character’s point of view from what the book as a whole is endorsing or critiquing. But when the book is recent and the problem is one that goes beyond a specific character, I sometimes lose my patience too.
With non-fiction in particular, I often come across these things very unexpectedly. Just to give you an example, shortly after my Paris trip this summer I bought a history book called “The Seven Ages of Paris” – the cover was gorgeous, reviews seemed good, and the premise really appealed to me. I gave up on the first chapter, when the author casually declared Eleanor of Aquitaine a nymphomaniac and went on to slut-shame her for a couple of paragraphs. I can only imagine what he had in store for other historical women. In this case in particular my annoyance was a deal-breaker, but sometimes I carry on because the book has a lot to offer in other respects, or my mood that particular day allows me to sigh and press on.
So yeah – on the one hand, we shouldn’t have to expose ourselves to misogyny (or racism, or homophobia, or etc) in our media consumption; on the other hand, they still permeate our culture to such an extent that if we avoid them completely we’ll deprive ourselves of a lot of things that are valuable in other ways. It’s a decision I make on a book to book basis, depending on what I feel I can handle at that particular moment.
Ana, thanks for your thoughtful comment! Oh yes, I think it is much more difficult with nonfiction. With novels I can not like it but if the story is good and the writing is good and I am in the right mood, I can sometimes overlook it. But nonfiction, it only serves to make me angry and I can’t overlook it. I might still keep reading though and then complain about it in a blog post
You are right, it is an unfortunate fact that misogyny, etc, are still all too common and the decision whether to read a book that is offensive in such a way has to be made on a case-by-case basis. Very wisely said!
Can you be sure the reviewer is actually correct in describing the author as “squeamish” in this way? Perhaps you would read the books and come to a different conclusion.
I’d agree with this, simply because I think “squeamish” isn’t the word I was expecting! Misogyny has always seemed like something more contemptuous than what “squeamish” connotes, so I’d be interested to see if that’s an accurate descriptor or a thesaurus-happy book reviewer. As for the bigger question, reading about views you disagree with or opening your mind to alternate viewpoints is one thing, but there’s really no excuse for degradation or discrimination, especially in the contemporary writing process when there should really be some kind of editorial filter for proposals of that nature!
But can you finally say that “degradation or discrimination” is to be found in these books unless you read them yourself?
Not assertively! Which, I suppose, leaves you with three options: Accept reviews at face value and avoid certain reads accordingly, or read and ignore reviews (which seems a bit like missing the point of literary reviewers in the first place) that hint at some sort of offensive content? I definitely understand the waffling in this situation.
Nathan, you are right, “squeamish” is an odd word choice, isn’t it? maybe the reviewer was going for a descriptor that indicated Marani wasn’t keen on women but wasn’t exactly an in-your-face misogynist? Dan did make a good point in wondering whether the reviewer is making an accurate description. I do pay attention to reviews, but perhaps in this case, more opinions on the author’s work are needed before I make a final decision. Thanks for your thoughtful comment!
Dan, you make a good point! Since I don’t know anything about the reviewer other than his name, I should be more skeptical I suppose. Now if I read three or four reviews that all said the same thing, that would be something, right?
This is a challenging question indeed. Personally, how I handle these questions is to take them on a case-by-case basis and let my mood at the time be my guide, much like what Ana says. One thing I’d be interested in knowing is how much the objectionable ideas permeate the book and whether the author seems to be assuming I agree or wants to win me over to his or her side. If the objectionable ideas are just there, in the background, I’m less likely to be bothered. So with, say, someone like Orson Scott Card, who Isabella mentions, I object strongly to his homophobia, but I haven’t seen any obvious signs of it in the handful of books of his that I’ve read, so I don’t let it keep me from reading his books. But if I started seeing lots of gay characters, exhibiting lots of stereotyped behavior in them, I’d stop.
Teresa, thanks for your thoughtful comment! Case-by-case does seem like a good approach. It is hard to know how much of the objectionable ideas permeate the book from just one review, and in this case, only a description of “squeamish.” I have relaxed my I can’t read Marani to, reserve judgment pending more evidence. Not jumping to conclusions is probably the best way to approach possibly offensive books but it is so hard to not jump! I try to keep the author’s biography separate from the work as well but I can understand not wanting to read an author because of his or her personal views even if they don’t appear in the novels; it can feel like buying say, an Orson Scott Card novel, is in some way supporting homophobia. Sort of like not shopping at a certain place because you disagree with what the owner does with the profits.
I’m with Ana & Teresa: it depends on the book and the day and my mood. I will say, though, that I’ve become less and less patient with (contemporary) misogyny as I’ve gotten older. I feel like so much of contemporary culture spends its time putting women down, why should I put up with that during my reading too?
Eva, yes, you are right, some days I can just roll my eyes and then let it all go, but other days, not so much. Knowing about the likelihood of encountering something like misogyny before I even start the book makes it hard to want to read it though for the reasons you state; there is so much of it everywhere else why should I have to tolerate it in my reading too?
I’m ashamed to say that I read so little contemporary literature that it hasn’t been a problem!
Ophelia, LOL! Maybe I just need to stop reading contemporary literature!
let time do the filtering…
Heh, you gave me a chuckle! It’s so hard to resist the new and shiny. I’ll have to work on that!
Hmm, tricky one. I absolutely applaud the consideration of context. History was what it was, and we can’t unmake slaves or submissive women or any other crime against humanity. If we read from the past, I kind of feel we’re duty bound to be open-minded to the values of a different age. That’s the deal when you open the book. For contemporary writing, I’m not sure I could call it in advance. I think it’s very hard to know where attitudes come from in novels, whether they are simply prejudices being aired by the author, or whether they are aspects of a given narrator. I would hope any editor worth his or her salt would not permit plain old ugly attitudes into a novel for no good reason. But that being said, I do tire of attitudes in contemporary novels, although they tend to be different to the ones that bother everyone else! I struggle with the Polyanna frame of mind that puts a brave face on sadness and keeps singing and I don’t like unbridled awe for orthodox achievements – I find them emotionally superficial (and they tend to crop up in genre novels). I’d rather read nasty old Michel Houellebecq who plays with the reader’s triggers all the time and won’t let you know whether he means it or is kidding around! But I’d call that a part of the literary puzzle, an aspect of literature messing with the reader to see what happens. I guess it’s always the stuff authors are unaware of that gets to the reader in the end.
Litlove, as always you are marvelously measured and thoughtful! You have a good point that it is hard to tell where attitudes come from in novels. I hope editors would wouldn’t permit ugly attitudes either, but I think that might be wishful thinking sometimes. The Polyanna pov and other things that bother you can sometimes be just as bad and insidious as the obvious big baddies, can’t they? I mean, if novels/society always encourage us to put a bright face on things and we don’t then that must mean there is something wrong with us, right? I’m a generally optimistic person by nature but sometimes even I can’t pull it off!
I was just last night musing to myself about a similar question. In the vein of “which 5 books would you take to a desert island” I wondered whether I would still be an avid reader if all I were permitted to read were books that I hated (poorly written, offensive, politically not my thing, etc). Like, I’m stuck on a desert island and all I have are the works of Glen Beck and Newt Gingrich. Then I lit upon the answer: cut them apart word by word and, in the manner of refrigerator poetry, put them back together in ways more pleasing to myself.
But in the real world, I have a hard time too with offensive books when the author should know better (and sometimes when they might not be expected to). Because here’s the thing: life is short, there are lots of books, why should I waste my time and mental faculties on reading crap?
Sarah, I love your desert island scenario! It’s brilliant!
You are right, life is short and there is no need to waste precious reading time on a book that one doesn’t like for whatever reason.
Interesting question and equally interesting comments. I think I might avoid the book (and I tend to stay within my own reading comfort zone normally so no big surprise here) if I knew ahead of time what was involved. If it was something that was obvious in the text I think I would likely pass (being a woman I don’t like authors being disparaging of my sex…), but if it was a matter of the author being a certain way in his/her private life and it didn’t necessarily come through in the writing I would probably give the book a go. Like so many other people here–it would ultimately depend on my mood and how appealing the story was to me otherwise. Now you make me at least want to take a look at the book–not that I’ll read it necessarily but I’m curious!
An interesting post. I think it is part of being a reader to be prepared at some point to be exposed to writers who may be profoundly at odds with what you think or feel. Dickens is a fantastic writer but you just have to bear with his brand of mysogyny or chauvinism if you read him without constantly losing patience. I haven’t much liking for Ayn Rand’s world view but I probably should read one of her books because they are (alas) extremely influential. The marxist historian Eric Hobsbawn was extremely brilliant but rather chillingly opined that the millions who died under Lenin and Stalin would not have died in vain if the socialist paradise had worked out – to me just as offensive as any right wing offensiveness. DH Lawrence, Thomas Carlyle – all in some way ugh…. but all the sort of writers that are still worth reading. Modern writers like Houellebecq can then be taken in without simply throwing the book across the room (or being too easily impressed).
Ian thanks! And thanks for contributing a thoughtful comment. You are right, as readers we do all have to be prepared to encounter writers that are at odds with our values and world view. It is up to each one of us I suppose to determine what our tolerance level is. I read a Rand novel once for a books group many years ago, one of her shorter ones. Not only was her world-view horrifyingly antithetical to mine, but the writing itself was bad too. I could have gotten along fine with the different pov if the writing was good, but oh, did that book ever turn out to be an painful experience!
In UK an example of “writer offensiveness: does it matter?” ocurred with the details of the opinions and attitudes of Philip Larkin that emerged after his death. Larkin was not only a bit non-PC but was revealed as harshly reactionary and fairly racist/sexist. It was hard to take as Larkin’s poems (which are the reason anyone might be interested in his private opinions) are probably some of the best loved of any modern poet. Poems like “Ambulances” and “Aubade” or “The Whitsun Weddings” just seem so profoundly and in the best sense Humanist I couldn’t let them go but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t upset by the virulence of Larkin’s politics.
Ian, I hadn’t heard that about Larkin! It does make it hard to reconcile the man with the beautiful poetry.
It is difficult but I tell myself that the poems will last and the more hateful part of Larkin matter much less. The politics of Larkin came out in a collection of his letters published after his death and some of his views were pretty hair raising tho’ he may well have been playing to the right wing views of some of his friends.
Danielle, I love all the thoughtful comments including yours! I think we are in agreement on this one. And after such a great discussion I have been gradually convincing myself to read New Finnish Grammar. Perhaps I will manage it in 2013 and then find out for myself what “squeamish” means in this case.
I suppose the other virtues of the book can sometimes be enough to keep me reading even if it’s being offensive — PC Wren has a lot of really offensive racial attitudes, but the nonstop fun of his books keeps me engaged. It also depends on how much of that particular offensive quality I’ve been encountering recently. If I’ve had a week where everyone’s been homophobic, I’m less likely to tolerate a book that’s snooty in that way; if I’ve gotten catcalled and harassed a lot that week, I’m less likely to bother with a book where women are sexualized/depersonalized.
A related thing is that I tend to stop reading books where I feel like the author actively does not want me as an audience. I feel that way about Hemingway. Whatever the virtues of his books might be, I read them and I feel that Hemingway is deliberately shutting me out in every way he possibly can, like everything he hopes for in an audience is the antithesis of me. And then I’m all like, FINE! I don’t like your rotten books anyway! :p
Jenny, you are quite right. I mean, to change media for a minute, James Bond isn’t exactly feminist but I do love a good Bond movie, so I suppose books are kind of the same. It all depends on how much and what kind and what mood and whether there is something in the book to carry one over the offensive bits. I have a love-hate relationship with Hemingway. He is a brilliant writer and his short stories can be amazing, but, his hyper-masculinity is very off-putting and makes him hard to read.
Coming to this a bit late, sorry, but I just had to comment. First, to say THANK YOU for this post! What a great and important question. The comments have been thought-provoking as well.
As for myself, I’m super torn about this (another reason I love that you posted it). I think you’re right to draw a line in the sand between contemporary books and past books, as well as between disgusting views of the author that affect the actual writing verses characters one personally dislikes. In both cases the latter gets major leeway from me.
Particularly for past books, even if it’s a reprehensible worldview/opinion, it was part of someone’s opinion at that past time and I’m curious about that. But in today’s world–I know that sexism, etc. exists, and I’m not so keen on exploring it further.
My gut reaction is to say: don’t read contemporary books that support misogyny/racism. There are so few years in our lives and so many great books, one could spend an entire lifetime staying away from those ones and still never read all the great books that have been written. (Again: this reaction doesn’t apply to past books for the reason stated above, and to books with characters you dislike, as I believe it’s good to make you squirm and to read books that show different opinions than yours. I’m talking only contemporary works with indefensible opinions.)
But I don’t know if that’s right. I really don’t.
I certainly do like and even admire works by people I find personally reprehensible (William Carlos Williams comes to mind). So I feel like there are a bunch of fallacies in everything I’m writing and I feel very confused.
Which I LOVE. So, thanks.
Pingback: Hunter S. Thompson, the brilliant writer who called his baby son Dirtbag « Aldine by Rebecca Romney
Pingback: Arabian Nights and Days by Naguib Mahfouz (thoughts) « A Striped Armchair