More on Reading
I read the Atlantic Monthly article with the graph that resonated with me, but put off others.
I found very little else that resonated--only that one bit about some of the girl readers I knew, and have encountered over the years of teaching. The writer gave a vivid example of reading to learn the "how tos" of life, but I really think that point is a given. Her "I hate Y.A. novels; they bore me" was certainly daunting.
Enough of that--there's the link above if you want to read it all. Here's what I've been thinking about in re Twilight, and the Harry Potter phenom, and the "boys don't read" observations. Just as tastes vary not only from person to person but in a single person over time, so does the experience of reading. Is it possible that girls are more likely to make reading a social act rather than a solitary one? Because what first drew me to reading about the history of the novel, specifically the early novels of the 1600s and the rise of the salons, was how women swiftly organized themselves as soon as they found one another and a shared venue for expression.
Here are some quick impressions from my own non-academic and entirely sporadic reading.
The Renaissance brought about a revival in learning, with an especial focus on classical literature. The Renaissance contributed not just new ideas, but a new paradigm--the idea that the world could be different. From monarch to middle class, the use of classical vocabulary gave you style points--meanwhile, the content of the classics led to extrapolations in various forms of writing about what the ideal world could be . . . which in turn led to ideas about what the ideal man could be. Of course this "man" was assumed to be literate, and Castiglione exhorted in his book of social climbing, The Courtier, "He must be of noble birth."
But though the language of classical literature was male, guess who else was reading? With the spread of wealth came leisure time, and as women had been denied much involvement in seignorial concerns, they turned to books. Women read, talked, penned reams of letters.
In the 1600s a woman's written work became enormously popular: Madame Scudėry, whose novels were not just romances, but long conversations and careful details about courtly behavior. A lot of those conversations were published separately in the latter part of the century as manners manuals. They were meant to depict an ideal of civilized life--but eager young women read them in hopes of emulating those up the ranks, to better their lives.
Meanwhile, Louis XIII's court was so uncouth that a remarkable woman named Madame Rambouillet opened her house in 1618, and for three decades the creme de la creme of French literati came to her place, instead of the king's court, to speak about refined love, and other polite subjects. She designed the ruelles, or alcoves, which were to become a standard of most salons; at first made so that the temperature of the room could be controlled, these intimate little partial rooms appealed so strongly that other hostesses raced to make their own.
The definition of public and private was changing. To be private, and intimate, among chosen people, was also to be exclusive. Madame du Deffand, a famous salonniere of the mid-18th Century, took eighteen months to design and furnish her place, to a very specific design. No detail was deemed too trivial; the buttercup yellow silk wallpaper in her entertainment rooms was copied by most wannabe salonnieres throughout Europe.
What did all this mean? The romance is tied up in the betterment of life--the happy ending if all live up to a standard. Unfortunately, the focus here was the betterment of an exclusive society, rather than the betterment of all. Or rather, the two things conflicted, which caused rifts among women publishing in the years before the Revolution. Not surprisingly aristos wanted to hold onto power and privilege, and women born lower down on the totem pole felt that civilization ought to benefit all.
During the patriarchal nineteenth century, there was one calling where women could hold their own with men: writing, and reading.
It's interesting to me, watching the remarkable organization of fanzine fandom (specifically fan fiction) over the past thirty years, done mostly by women. What's going on underneath fanfic? A whole lot of stuff. Women writers exploring sexual questions is usually the first thing brought up (or mudball slung); but there is so much more going on. The taking of familiar characters to extrapolate improvements to society--the determination that one can have a happy ending if this, this, and this is done--the very statement that "This is what I like in a story. Write it for me" are all interesting aspects of reading, writing, and social action. And I see mostly women doing it. Why is that? Is it just because I'm a woman that I'm mostly seeing women, or is there a social stratum that just doesn't appeal to all the guys reading out there?
I found very little else that resonated--only that one bit about some of the girl readers I knew, and have encountered over the years of teaching. The writer gave a vivid example of reading to learn the "how tos" of life, but I really think that point is a given. Her "I hate Y.A. novels; they bore me" was certainly daunting.
Enough of that--there's the link above if you want to read it all. Here's what I've been thinking about in re Twilight, and the Harry Potter phenom, and the "boys don't read" observations. Just as tastes vary not only from person to person but in a single person over time, so does the experience of reading. Is it possible that girls are more likely to make reading a social act rather than a solitary one? Because what first drew me to reading about the history of the novel, specifically the early novels of the 1600s and the rise of the salons, was how women swiftly organized themselves as soon as they found one another and a shared venue for expression.
Here are some quick impressions from my own non-academic and entirely sporadic reading.
The Renaissance brought about a revival in learning, with an especial focus on classical literature. The Renaissance contributed not just new ideas, but a new paradigm--the idea that the world could be different. From monarch to middle class, the use of classical vocabulary gave you style points--meanwhile, the content of the classics led to extrapolations in various forms of writing about what the ideal world could be . . . which in turn led to ideas about what the ideal man could be. Of course this "man" was assumed to be literate, and Castiglione exhorted in his book of social climbing, The Courtier, "He must be of noble birth."
But though the language of classical literature was male, guess who else was reading? With the spread of wealth came leisure time, and as women had been denied much involvement in seignorial concerns, they turned to books. Women read, talked, penned reams of letters.
In the 1600s a woman's written work became enormously popular: Madame Scudėry, whose novels were not just romances, but long conversations and careful details about courtly behavior. A lot of those conversations were published separately in the latter part of the century as manners manuals. They were meant to depict an ideal of civilized life--but eager young women read them in hopes of emulating those up the ranks, to better their lives.
Meanwhile, Louis XIII's court was so uncouth that a remarkable woman named Madame Rambouillet opened her house in 1618, and for three decades the creme de la creme of French literati came to her place, instead of the king's court, to speak about refined love, and other polite subjects. She designed the ruelles, or alcoves, which were to become a standard of most salons; at first made so that the temperature of the room could be controlled, these intimate little partial rooms appealed so strongly that other hostesses raced to make their own.
The definition of public and private was changing. To be private, and intimate, among chosen people, was also to be exclusive. Madame du Deffand, a famous salonniere of the mid-18th Century, took eighteen months to design and furnish her place, to a very specific design. No detail was deemed too trivial; the buttercup yellow silk wallpaper in her entertainment rooms was copied by most wannabe salonnieres throughout Europe.
What did all this mean? The romance is tied up in the betterment of life--the happy ending if all live up to a standard. Unfortunately, the focus here was the betterment of an exclusive society, rather than the betterment of all. Or rather, the two things conflicted, which caused rifts among women publishing in the years before the Revolution. Not surprisingly aristos wanted to hold onto power and privilege, and women born lower down on the totem pole felt that civilization ought to benefit all.
During the patriarchal nineteenth century, there was one calling where women could hold their own with men: writing, and reading.
It's interesting to me, watching the remarkable organization of fanzine fandom (specifically fan fiction) over the past thirty years, done mostly by women. What's going on underneath fanfic? A whole lot of stuff. Women writers exploring sexual questions is usually the first thing brought up (or mudball slung); but there is so much more going on. The taking of familiar characters to extrapolate improvements to society--the determination that one can have a happy ending if this, this, and this is done--the very statement that "This is what I like in a story. Write it for me" are all interesting aspects of reading, writing, and social action. And I see mostly women doing it. Why is that? Is it just because I'm a woman that I'm mostly seeing women, or is there a social stratum that just doesn't appeal to all the guys reading out there?