Gone Girl, The Cool Girl Speech, Margaret Atwood, Girls in Politics, and Becoming the Villainess
- At November 04, 2014
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
2
So, I finally read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. I know, you’re saying, “You’re way behind on your reading, Jeannine!” Yes, I am!
Anyway, so I’ve been thinking about Flynn’s portrayal of Amy, is it complex, nuanced, is it misogynistic or feminist? I’m thinking about the “Cool Girl” speech, in which the main female character runs down the idea that men want the woman that Cameron Diaz plays in all her films and Flynn’s own interviews and articles.
I’m thinking about Margaret Atwood, all Atwood’s wonderful complex villainesses: Atwood’s murderesses and unkind children, her suddenly violent maids. Atwood’s “bad girls” – and her assertion that to be truly feminist, we have depict women characters as being fully human, capable of both great heroism and great evil. Atwood herself is a little acerbic, a little bit difficult, definitely not giving off the maternal/nice vibe you might expect from a 72-or-so year old woman writer.
So, if you’ve read my first book, Becoming the Villainess, it’s very much about the ideas espoused in the Cool Girl speech. You could argue my “Snow Queen” – probably the most villainess-y villainess in there, unrepentantly eating children and whatnot – has a backstory that includes throwing back shots of whiskey and pastrami sandwiches while remaining perfectly beautiful, pretty much the embodiment of every guy’s fantasy cool girl. The book was inspired by some “bad girls” – Atwood’s villainesses, certainly, Louise Gluck, probably, especially her bad girls in Meadowlands, and the sexed-up villainesses of comic book and mythological fame – evil stepmothers right next to Ovid’s Procne, serving up her son to her husband in revenge for his raping of her sister Philomel.
In my twenties, when I started writing the book, I think, frighteningly, I might also have been playing a cool girl role – I was, after all, the girl who hung out mostly with guys, could quote Star Wars and Fletch, read comic books, and was pretty good at video games, especially first-person shooters. My marriage was still pretty young then. I had started to notice “feminism,” as such, only a few years before I wrote the book – and noting the sad lack of women in power in politics, in comic books, in any and all pop culture – I mean, everywhere. There was one kind of strong woman character allowed – and she was “the villainess.”
This was before movies like Maleficent started reclaiming powerful women’s stories for an alternate treatment, before “Once Upon a Time’s” sympathetic mayor villainess/heroine. That book was my discovery, my way of writing myself out of a seemingly impossible quandry – to remain the princess, the victim, the good girl, or to enter into enemy territory, empowered, maybe sexy, but crazy/dangerous/deadly/evil.
Gone Girl is making me realize that since the time I started writing my first book around 1996 – how much has changed? Shows like “The Good Wife” and “Scandal” have been popular precisely, I think, because they mine this territory of “good girl on the brink of bad.” But is a woman allowed to be sexual, intelligent, powerful – and still a heroine? Look at what happens to women who succeed – at anything – becoming a CEO, or a senator. She’s basically demonized. Look at Gamergate. What is the message that Gone Girl is giving us? Since the “Cool Girl” speech is made by a crazed psychopath, every man with a “perfect” girlfriend’s nightmare of what could go wrong, how are we supposed to take that text?
What is the ultimate message in Becoming the Villainess? (I have high school students write to ask me that all the time. Here’s your secret chance, kids!) I talk about video game heroines trapped in endless rounds of sexualized death (Lara Croft) and princesses trapped in towers becoming dangerous (Cinderella) and Wonder Woman’s secret inner conflict between violence and peace, vigilantism and working for a greater good…but what is the answer for a woman who wants a way out, Buffy when she’s tired of being a Martyr, the superheroine tired of wearing heels and a thong? As a 41-year-old woman today, I don’t want to be playing at being any kind of girl, good girl/bad girl/cool girl/gone girl whatever. I want to be authentic. I want to find a way out of the victim/villainess conundrum.
Halloween Post: Spooky Poems, Horror Writers
- At October 30, 2014
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
0
Happy Halloween! It’s official: I’m now a horror writer! I just joined the Horror Writers Association and wrote an essay for their newsletter that was just sent out on the dark side of science poetry!
Appropriate to the season, here are two spoooooky poems.
“Introduction to the Body in Fairy Tales” appeared first in Phantom Drift and was selected for The Year’s Best Horror, vol. 6!
Introduction to the Body in Fairy Tales
The body is a place of violence. Wolf teeth, amputated hands.
Cover yourself with a cloak of leaves, a coat of a thousand furs,
a paper dress. The dark forest has a code. The witch
sometimes dispenses advice, sometimes eats you for dinner,
sometimes turns your brother to stone.
You will become a canary in a castle, but you’ll learn plenty
of songs. Little girl, watch out for old women and young men.
If you don’t stay in your tower you’re bound for trouble.
This too is code. Your body is the tower you long to escape,
and all the rotted fruit your babies. The bones in the forest
your memories. The little birds bring you berries.
The pebbles on the trail glow ghostly white.
Introduction to Witchcraft first appeared in Atticus Review.
Introduction to Witchcraft
Always these young women in search of power,
their eyes rolled back in their heads, midriffs exposed.
Always some girl with a candle in a dark room –
and poof, her face brightens as she achieves
some moment of bliss. The raindrops around her freeze
in midair, the wolves stop baring their fangs, and for a moment
the young girl marvels at her own invincibility.
But then it’s fire, fire, always someone with a stake or a knife
ready to do her in. She is a spark about to go out.
What’s Really in Your Control (as a small press author)
- At October 28, 2014
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
2
Oh, look at the news these days: you might see something about spying drones, ebola, maybe some random crime spree (or school shooting, as our community had this week.) All of this worrying stuff that is out of our control.
And in our own lives: no matter how we try to follow doctors’ orders, eat right, exercise, medicate as advised, etc., our bodies will still let us down. Sometimes in an annoying way, sometimes in a spectacular way. We can’t control the weather, our friends and family, the way our neighbor looks at us funny. You can be nice to your neighbor, hug your loved one, floss, help some stranger on the street.
You know that old serenity prayer, the one that talks about knowing the difference between things you can control (your eating habits, your time reading books on subjects you want to know more about) and things you can’t control (your genetic propensities, weather, your love of seventies supergroups)?
So how does this apply to poets and small press authors (most poets)?
I’ve been thinking of the things I can do for my next book, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter, and the things I can’t do. I’ve done some of the hard work already: written the best book I could, found the best publisher I could for this particular book, and now…
Things I can do:
- Buy an ad somewhere.
- Send a book out to reviewers, bloggers, media folks.
- Get on social media and post, thoughtfully, weekly.
- Maintain a web site.
- Send my book out to book contests (or select contests for your press to send)
Things I can’t do:
- Make someone actually buy a book.
- Make someone who reads the book like it.
- Determine if the book will win any prizes or recognition.
Realistically, I’m looking at what I can do differently for this book than my last two books. I probably won’t be able to afford, either monetarily or re: physical health, a big gigantic book tour. I may be able to handle a couple of readings in cities I love and have family/friends (Portland, Cincinnati, maybe even Knoxville or NYC.) But I can plan some fun and exciting local events. I’m actually working with a PR person (a blessing in itself, as there are a dearth of PR folks who are excited to work with low-sales, esoteric poetry books) to try to launch the book with a little more forethought and try to reach out to non-poetry audiences a bit more. I know I may not make the money back from this endeavor, but I wanted to try to do something different for this book, instead of just complaining about things I can’t control.
Please feel free to post more examples in the comments of things a poet (or any small press author) can and can’t control, and what you’ve tried that made a difference! (Next post, I promise – more Halloween-type poems! Spoooooky!)
LitCrawl Seattle writeup, an Interview at Geosi reads, and Poison Ivy Poems
- At October 24, 2014
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
0
LitCrawl Seattle last night seemed like a big success, judging by the numbers of attendees (almost every event I saw, including ours, was packed) and the after-party was a great place to see long-lost writer friends, assuming you’d missed them at all the other events, and was also packed. I got a pic of our readers and MC just before the “Superheroes vs Fairy Tales” reading started.
A big thank-you for this interview up with Geosi Gyasi at Geosi Reads (he’s a very thoughtful interviewer:)
http://geosireads.wordpress.com/2014/10/24/interview-with-jeannine-hall-gailey-author-of-unexplained-fevers/
I read my Poison Ivy poem last night and it seemed to be a hit. Since it’s getting close to Halloween and I should be putting up spooky poems anyway:
For the Love of Ivy
(Poison Ivy Leaves a Note for Batman in the Wake of Another Apocalypse Attempt)
You can see, can’t you, the appeal of such a world – lush with growth,
an earth empty of men’s trampling? In college, sitting through botanical medicine
classes, ecotoxicology, experiments in plant poisons – it became clear
that this was my verité – an orchid dressed to seduce wasps, a blooming
parasite wrapped around the trunk of a tree. You might take me home,
beg me for a kiss, but don’t you see the xylem and phloem in my veins
can’t pulse for you? My only offense not-death, regenerating from venom
fed me by my own professor? Feculent, fecund and feral, my power
you couldn’t understand, being born of cave-dwellers, bats and humans,
and your peculiar love of stray cats. My very existence, perhaps, my only crime
against nature. You can’t stem the murmur of voices under soil,
buried against their will – radioactive trees, GMO fruit. Just consider me
another mutant gone wrong, my betrayals in the distant backstory, my tears
now flow a green ooze as I try to heal the land, cesium in the sunflowers,
goat genes welded into innocent corn. Despite drought and denial,
I will continue to grow unharmed, my defense all delicate leaf and toxic petal.