Oh look, it’s a… queer reading?

16 12 2009

(Yeah, I know I am inconsistent with my categorizing system – and it’s probably of more concern to me than to you…)

This may sound very – well, queer, but I think I first came across the literary term “queer reading” only this semester. I mean, I am familiar with the concept and have been since – 1998, I mean, it’s what I do! but I was not aware that this was actually something that you could legitimately do in academia (I love the term academia – and I love that it surprises me with little things like this).

So, we had to read this really BAD book (I have already mentioned that I have very strong opinions and being decidedly annoyed with a book usually means that it was either sexist – I still read Stephen King, though -, homophobe or just plain boring) – it’s called “The Moviegoer,” by Walker Percy (and I know that there are people out there that like this book, but I do not) -, it bored me senseless. But we had to write some comment on our blackboard about some of the things we read, so I commented on it and put my thought about the main character’s sexuality in there which might be called the only slightly interesting thing (although “interesting” is too strong a word). I wrote about my conviction that Binx Bolling is deeply closeted and might even be gay (this is not a contradiction, see my blog about not-so-literally gay-ness). I put some textual evidence in (like he is obsessed with movie cowboys, his relationships with women are superfluous and follow a self-destructive pattern, he denies his homosexuality – which is always a good/bad sign, right? – and he goes on endlessly about his “search” which I read as “coming out, already.”

Anyway, my prof was delighted with my “queer reading.” And I thought: “queer reading,” that sounds really cool! So, when I started reading “The Awakening” for the second time this semester (for my lit-paper) I thought about how queer it is (I only read the beginning and I think it is actually queerer than the rest of the book where Chopin seems to take some of the lesbian imagery away again). And I wrote a queer reading of “The Awakening.”

The downside of this is: if “reading queer” is an academic discipline (is “discipline” the right word?) it means that not everybody reads queer – I know what you’re thinking: D’uh! But… is it actually something that we can learn – or teach? Is “reading queer” taken away from the “queers”? And is that necessarily a bad thing?

I was very aware this semester that a queer discussion of a text was not something that came up naturally in any class but my gender-class. I do not think that the topic was actually avoided but that my classmates were actually not aware that it was missing. So, if “reading queer” is taught, maybe it will sensibilize the straight majority to the fact that there is a reading that does not come naturally to them but is still there. If that is the case I feel that I have failed my fellow students by not getting into it enough – would it have been so bad to say: Mademoiselle Reisz is a big DYKE.

Well, maybe not in those words, but I guess it would have been possible. I will try to do better in the future.

Where y’at!





Oh look, it’s a book: The Awakening

21 11 2009

“The Awakening” by Kate Chopin (1899)

Probably the most fascinating novel I have read all year – and most certainly during my semester here in New Orleans – is “The Awakening.” Not surprisingly, “The Awakening” is about a woman in and out of New Orleans – I actually have to read it for two classes, but one is “Literary New Orleans” – but not from New Orleans, a woman who is searching for something beyond her marriage, beyond her motherhood. What she finds is an affair with a slick creole, shady friendships and a way out: suicide.

This may not sound very encouraging but her last walk into the sea is quite liberating for the heroine Edna Pontellier, the wife of a wealthy creole who sees his wife as merely one of his possessions. As such he brings her to a vacation island off the U.S. coast where for the first time she awakens to something other than her life as wife, mother and hostess. Her yearning starts there when she meets other creoles who are – different from her husband – full of life and creole attitude. She meets Robert Lebrun and falls in love with him (or does she?), only to discover in the end that he is not strong enough to love her. She meets the perfect creole woman, who becomes her friend but who is also the picture perfect Edna herself can never be. And she meets Mademoiselle Reizs and she is quite the mysterious influence on Edna’s creative nature…

The book is full of New Orleans description, vibrant, heated, sexually charged… no wonder, the book was no success in 1899. It took the feminist movement of the 60s to rediscover this masterpiece of restricted womanhood.

I have written an essay about it and will post it on the essay-page. It is an A, by the way. Yeah, I am really that good…








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.