I came across this article today: "It's Frustratingly Rare to Find a Novel About Women That's Not About Love," in which writer Kelsey McKinney explains a bit of her own reading experiences and laments the fact that "great literature," when it features women at all, allots them only a one-dimensional role:
"While the male characters of literature built countries, waged wars,
and traveled while smoking plenty of illicit substances, the women were
utterly boring. The assigned, award-winning, cannon-qualified books about women were
about women I didn't want to be. Jane Eyre was too blinded by her love
for Mr. Rochester, as were all of the Bennet sisters in Pride and Prejudice. Hester Prynne of The Scarlet Letter was too maternal, and no one wants to grow up to be Anna Karenina. These
women wanted to get married and have kids. They wanted to whine for 300
pages about a man who didn't want to be with them. They wanted, it
seemed, to be supporting actresses in their own stories. Their stories
were equally about the men who shaped them as what they themselves
These female characters had love stories of heartbreak, but no
stories of solitary self-discovery. Like many young adults, I didn't
necessarily want stable. I wanted to drive On The Road and stop off in small towns and drink more than was probably appropriate. I wanted to question who I was and be my own Catcher in the Rye.
There are no Jack Kerouacs or Holden Caulfields for girls. Literary
girls don't take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find
"Great" books, as defined by the Western canon, didn't contain female
protagonists I could admire. In fact, they barely contained female
protagonists at all. Of the 100 Best Novels compiled by Modern Library, only nine have women in the leading role, and in only one of those books--The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
by Muriel Spark--do the leading women strive to do more than find a
husband or raise their children. Statistically, one percent of the Best
Novels are about women doing something other than loving."
The solution to Ms. McKinney's problem is not as simple as saying, "You need to read more." This writer is clearly extraordinarily well-read. And she's right: within the confines of the traditional canon of classic literature, her complaints are entirely valid. But someone needs to point out that these books she longs for, books by women about women with their own plots and characters, really do exist. I read Viragos (and Persephones, to a lesser extent but, with the help of my library I hope to encounter more) because I too crave women's stories. Not all of the books published by these two presses escape the confines of the woman-seeking-love plotline, but many do, and I thanks to these marvelous green and grey books, I have been treated to many examples of literary females struggling to find themselves or their place in a world that has traditionally subjugated women. These are issues with which we women struggle even today in the era of post-modern feminism. And it's important to notice, I think, that some of my favorite stories about women being themselves don't require that these women be unmarried. As McKinney's article points out, women today want to be married, have kids, and have careers. It's difficult to achieve all of these things, but one doesn't need to feel alone in this endeavor. Instead, we are part of a tremendously ambitious line of women who dare.
This is why we need Viragos and Persephones. I only wish they were better-known.