Spring Reading Wrap up
Maeve Fly - C.J Leede
C.J Leede’s “Maeve Fly” is a glorious love letter to the horror genre, which also addresses (and pokes fun at) its problematic portrayal of women. Leede executes this send-up of a genre that she clearly loves dearly through the book’s (anti)heroine, Maeve, who learns how to interact with the world through fiction’s iconic anti-heroes. Lacking an ability to move through the world like everyone else, Maeve tries on character “masks” in order to get through the day. But the characters that she begins to turn to, and the masks that she begins to wear, start to get darker and darker.
Maeve is narcissistic, sadistic, and, thanks to her whip smart internal monologue, unsettlingly likeable. Leede creates a stylised atmosphere that sucks you straight in and immerses you in Maeve’s twisted mind. To be clear, this book is not for the faint of heart. Many of Maeve’s actions are despicable and unjustifiable. But, men have had despicable characters written for them for centuries; enabling them to examine and work through their shadow selves through these characters. It’s about damn time we got a~truly~detestable character of our own.
Men Who Hate Women - Laura Bates
In “men who hate women,” Laura bates unveils the online culture that is fuelling violence against women (VAW). Bates connects the many different groups that, though often referred to as being independent entities, are actually a part of a wider community of misogyny. Though these groups vary in their intensity, they are all underpinned by the same ideas of male supremacy that, at best, justify, and, at worst, encourage VAW. Through rigorous research, interviews, and the detailing of her personal experiences, Bates demonstrates that what is often spoken about as pathetic but harmless online “shit posting” or “trolling” has real-life, and sometimes deadly, consequences. From “Incels” to “Men’s Rights Advocates,” Bates immerses herself in these communities and then uses her understanding of their workings to propose how they can be dismantled. This should be essential reading for anyone who works with young people—particularly young men and boys—and who wants to curb the spread of the harmful ideas perpetrated by these groups.
The Crane Wife - C.J Hauser
Hauser’s essay “the crane wife” took the internet by storm in 2019. Her story of a broken engagement resonated with women all over the world; who knew all too well the pain of shrinking themselves in order to make a relationship work. Her memoir, published under the same name, takes us through her life in essays, using the same whit and sincerity that made readers fall in love with her writing in 2019.
I think Hauser might be the most self aware person to ever exist. It is admirable, but also, almost painful to read. She picks apart her flaws, mistakes and deepest insecurities in such detail that you can feel how much self-work she has done. How far into the darkest corners of herself she has travelled, coming back out only to look at herself with an objectivity that could only be paralleled by a therapist. This makes reading Hauser’s most intimate essays hard, because you know that the work one has to do to achieve that awareness is hard. And, thinking about diving that deep into your own dark corners is quite terrifying. But the humour, beauty and tenderness with which Hauser writes makes the journey seem a little less daunting.
Lose Your Mother - Saidiya Hartman
In “Lose Your Mother,” Hartman goes on a journey to connect with a past that she has never known. Like many African Americans, her ancestral heritage is unclear, with the slave trade purposefully severing slaves’ familial ties and cultural connections in order to isolate and control them. Though Hartman does not know which country her ancestors originated from, she travels to Ghana in the hopes of connecting with her family’s past—a past that has been erased. But, instead of finding that ancestral connection, Hartman finds herself feeling more unmoored than ever. What follows is a deep dive into the realities of the Atlantic slave trade, a consideration of the impact of that trade on Africans and African-Americans today, and a discovery of the rift that persists between those two groups. “Loose your mother” is a book about what it means to be displaced; not just from a particular country or place, but from your own truth. It is about identity. It is about a woman trying to find some sense of belonging and about addressing generational trauma. It moved and educated me simultaneously.
