A New Yorker Story by Claire Keegan That Needed More

 In the usual author interview, Claire Keegan said she wanted to make "So Late in the Day," her Feb. 21, 2022, New Yorker short story, "an exploration of misogyny," But it's more a description of ships passing in the night and a failure to explore what women want.

In a nutshell, the piece is about a man named Cathal who appears to work as a clerk at a Dublin institution that provides financial support to the arts -- near the famous statue of Oscar Wilde on one corner of Marrion Square. Unmarried, and apparently never married, he lives an unremarkable life in a coastal town called Arklow, a lengthy bus ride south of Dublin. 

A couple years earlier, he had met a well-dressed, rather petite woman named Sabine at a conference in Toulouse, only to discover she worked near his office in Dublin and unmarried, lived in a flat with three younger women. The daughter of a French father and an English mother who divorced early in her life, she had grown up in Normandy and spoke English in a fashion that sometimes grated on Cathal.

Nonetheless, after to getting to know her a bit and discovering she liked the countryside, he invited her down to Arklow. Soon she began showing up most weekends and since they appeared to be getting along quite well, Cathal eventually, and in an almost offhand fashion, suggested marriage.

Simone initially dismissed the notion with "a type of chocked laughter" and questions suggestive of incredulity, but three weeks later, "finally relented."

It's all downhill from there as they discover they don't actually know each other that well and that Cathal, used to living alone, would prefer to have her more as a possession than as a partner.  Keegan's depiction of that is well done, but what's totally missing from this story is any explanation of why Simone would have agreed to marry Cathal in the first place. She's attracted to the town in which he lives more than to the man himself -- clearly a beta-male to everyone who encounters him in the story.

The addition of some exploration of the age-old question "what do women want?" would have made this a far more interesting tale than the version printed in the magazine. As it stands, while it is easy to agree that Cathal got what he richly deserved, it's a mystery as to why the more sophisticated Simone was content with Cathal as little more than weekends in the country and an escape from those other women, paid for with some uncomplicated, consensual sex and very good dinners after which Cathal, the misogynist, would clean up.

This is "a world where women expect more," Keegan said in the New Yorker author interview. What Simone's actions say about her values in that respect is a bigger question than what Cathal's say about him -- based on Keegan's depiction of the man.

French Jews and Muslims Face Intersectionality Issues

 The New York Times recently reviewed a new play about French Jews that one can see as thematically related to a post I recently wrote about a book called "The Last One." 

The play, "Prayer for the French Republic," by Joshua Harmon, is about a Jewish family agonizing over their identity in the face of what they view as rising antisemitism in France. As the NYT reviewer puts it, "they want to be part of country that may never fully accept them" and after an ugly incident, at least one member of the family wants to move to Israel.  "It's the suitcase or the coffin," he says.

In "The Last One," a young Muslim woman living in a Paris Suburb agonizes over whether she can be fully a French citizen without giving up other parts of what she views as elements of her identity.

Other Muslims living in France are apparently increasingly coming to the conclusion one can't if a Feb. 13, 2022 New York Times Story entitled "The Quiet Flight of Muslims from France" is correct. 

In both the play and the book, the individuals in question are dealing with what is increasingly being called intersectionality. People see themselves as having various strands of identity that insect in certain ways -- sometimes positively, sometimes negatively -- that often fail to comport with a national identity of shared sociopolitical and cultural values. 

There is arguably nothing new about this -- I'm thinking of Leopold Bloom's encounter with "the citizen" -- in James Joyce's "Ulysses" -- but for some reasons these issues seem to be increasingly coming to the fore.

SFMOMA: "An Unexpected Outcome"

 "Though he is not a woman or a person of color, and I understand how that may be an unexpected outcome, I believe he will materially promote the visibility and best interest of those groups based on his past performance." 

So said Pamela L. Joyner, a black woman who co-headed SFMOMA's search committee, which settled on a white male, Christopher Bedford, to head up the museum, yet another American cultural institution troubled by charges of past racism. 

Well, as a Feb. 10, 2022, New York Times story on this development noted, Bedford not long ago made waves as head of the Baltimore Musem of Art by proposing to sell of works by Brice Marden, Christopher Still and Any Warhol to finance acquisitions of art by people of color and to finance staff salary increases. He also at one point announced a year-long commitment to acquire only works by female artists.

Such is the world of American culture at the moment: just who created something is of far greater importance than what exactly got created. To be fair, however, there are few if any objective standards of what makes for a great work of art.  Generally, someone considered an authority in such matters makes a pronouncement, or perhaps the price for which something sells is viewed as a sufficient proxy for its artistic merit.

In any event, despite the fact that by his gender and the color of his skin, Bedford represents the racist, colonialist, patriarchal past that is said to underpin prevailing U.S. social conditions, he's more or less acceptable for his new post.

I say "more or less" because here's what the NYT reported Ford Foundation president Darren Walker had to say: "While I'm disappointed that a diverse candidate wasn't chosen, no museum leader is more committed to diversity than Chris Bedford." In other words, second choice despite certain merits. 

According to the newspaper report, the museum may well have had to settle on Bedford despite his gender and skin-color shortcomings because the job isn't that attractive, and demand is high for qualified women or those of color.

"A person close to the job search who spoke on the condition of anonymity because that person was not authorized to reveal its details, said that the SFMOMA position was not an easy sell to candidates, given San Francisco's comparatively low-profile contemporary art scene and tepid interest in art patronage among Silicon Valley moguls." So the NYT reported.

A Feminist New Yorker Short Story by Lauren Groff

 Lauren Groff's short story "Annunciation" in the Feb 7, 2022 New Yorker is probably about as feminist as it gets, although not so much in terms of third wave "intersectionality." This is a woman-focused story in which men, to the extent they only vaguely appear, are disinterested, ineffectual, distant or in two cases, while no longer present, clearly malevolent. It's a story in which a woman can do a man's work and in which women rely on each other for support. 

Before going further, I need to say that "a clanger" created a hurdle for me at the start.  In her third sentence, Groff describes her unnamed heroine running in the hills above Palo Alto, California, as "the mist falls in starched sheets over the distant hills, the ones that press against the Bay."  I'm very familiar with that region and there are no hills the protagonist can see that "press against the Bay."  The south bay is surrounded by flat lands with big freeways running through them. The hills are well back from the water.  

But most readers probably wouldn't be that familiar with the terrain and I suppose one can write this off to artistic license.  "Annunciation" is a work of fiction after all.

Groff's story begins with a woman graduating from a college in New England. No one in her large family attends and as a result, with little money, she gets into an awkward old car given to her by a grandfather and heads west, ending up in a San Francisco youth hostel.  Although the story ends late in the protagonists' life, that's almost the last readers hear of her original family. At one point, the protagonist's mother does tracks her down, but their reunion is very short-lived. Graff's heroine has no need for her mother.

After the brief stay in San Francisco, the protagonist finds a job down the Peninsula in Redwood City ("Climate best by Government Test," although that isn't mentioned in the story) and takes a low-wage clerical job in a government welfare agency. There she befriends a down-and out co-worker, a victim of domestic violence who lives with a young daughter in a Volkswagen Vanagon -- in one of the wealthiest areas of the U.S. 

Groff's heroine has also found cheap housing close to her job in the compound of a strange, somewhat spooky woman who eventually dies of the law of unintended consequences, sending Groff's heroine on her way. 

The two connections mentioned above -- they seem to fall short of real friendships or relationships -- are described in great detail by Groff, but in the end, neither one goes anywhere. This is not "sisterhood" feminism. 

From here, readers are suddenly taken to a point significantly later in the life of Groff's heroine -- in Italy where readers are told she is now living a life of "grace," fundamentally a Christian concept, but in this case associated with such things as birds singing amid "beauty."

In the interim, readers learn that the woman in question created a family of her own and while it "has become my true north," it is one from which she apparently episodically flees. -- thinking good things about this behavior because she has so far always eventually returned.  No mention of a husband, but she claims to be a mother who "sees her children fully." One wonders if they see it that way, but readers learn nothing of them.

One thing she likes about Italy is that she is surrounded by a thousand Madonnas, with a thousand different faces" (in churches), all unnamed, but wearing "the particular mortal face of a woman the artist loved."  One supposes that's the way she would like to think of herself. 

In the usual New Yorker interview, one learns Groff struggled with versions this story for a decade, apparently because she had no idea where it was supposed to go. Then she made a bet with another writer on who could first write a short story with a happy ending (a rarity readers are told) and voila!

Grace, wherever it came from and for whatever reason Groff's protagonist was worthy of it, is where it's at. And who needs men?

Amen, those of a feminist persuasion might say.

More on the Tension Between Art and Political Correctness

The New York Times rehashed the career of American painter Andrew Wyeth on Feb. 3, 2022, using the transfer of a couple of small islands off the coast of Maine from Wyeth family foundations to Colby College as an excuse. 

 One paragraph in particular jumped out at me.

 "In a 2017 assessment of his paintings of Black people in the Brandywine Valley, the art historian Gwendolyn DuBois Shaw questioned the power imbalance in his representation of race, and also pointed out that in a handful of paintings he had darkened the skin tone of his white model, Helga Testorf, a Chadds Ford neighbor who posed for him in secret for more than a decade." 

 “His nude images of black women embody the power imbalance that characterized interracial interactions in the Brandywine Valley throughout the 20th century,” Shaw wrote in 2017, arguing that the “subordinate positions (of his models) as poor, black and working class enabled the artist to exert a great deal of control over how he imaged them on paper or canvas.” 

 To Ms. Shaw, the New York Times said, the visual representation of race in Wyeth’s work raised the question of how much leeway white artists should have in depicting subjects of another race. Is all fair in the name of art?

 The "power imbalance," and just what leeway artists (presumably not just those who are white) should have in depicting subjects of another race? What's at issue here is political correctness and cultural misappropriation. Sound familiar? 

 One wonders, should we go back through the history of Western art, identifying all the painting where an artist had some sort of "power imbalance" over a subject and/or where he or she depicted someone of a different race or culture and burn them? Or should we continue to evaluate them first and foremost on aesthetic considerations? We are, after all, talking about art.

 To be fair to Ms Shaw, the Times reported that in 2017 "she took pains to note that her work wasn’t intended to injure Wyeth’s reputation, but rather to layer it. "I love Wyeth,' she said. 'I think we can find artists to be complicated and frustrating and disappointing in some ways and still love the work.'" 

 Well, maybe Wyeth also wasn't trying to injure the Blacks depicted in his paintings, just lawyer them.

 I'll leave it up to readers to decide, but these are important issues in the current "cancel culture" mood of certain U.S. sociopolitical actors.

Culture and Identity: "The Last One" by Fatima Daas

Although there is considerable controversy about this, the ancient Greek rhetorician Isocrates (436-338 bce) is credited with advancing the idea that culture can trump other markers of identity.

This was at the time when Philip II of Macedon, not a Greek but a person with Greek leanings partially as a result of three years of early education in Thebes, was about to embark on conquests that, under his son, Alexander the Great, would "Hellenize" much of the then-known world.

"Our city has so far surpassed other men in thought and speech that students of Athens have become the teachers of others, and the city has made the name "Greek" seem to be not that of a people but of a way of thinking, and people are called Greeks because they share in our education rather than in our birth," Isocrates said in one of his writings. 

I mention this because it is an important idea for many modern nation states, in particular -- in this instance -- France, which much like Isocrates in ancient Athens, came to believe French culture superior to most if not all others.

A few years back, for instance, the man then serving as France's Minister of Education, denounced "intersectionality," an outgrowth of the feminist movement, as in conflict with French republican values.

While Kimberley Williams Crenshaw, a Black American feminist, is credited with originating the term in the late 1980s to explain different layers of oppression experienced by women of color, intersectionality has since come to be a way of parsing out what, in the current era, are all-important questions of personal or social identity. According to Wikipedia, this includes such things as race, gender, sex, sexuality, class, ability, nationality, citizenship, religion, and body type.  

One other thing worth noting before continuing: a person's perceived intersectionality can be viewed either in positive or negative terms.

That's a very lengthy introduction to a few comments on a book called "The Last One," which, according to the New York Times, created quite a sensation in France where it was originally published. Written under an assumed name by a young lesbian Muslim woman living in a Paris suburb, the protagonist attempts to sort through her multiple and sometimes conflicting strands of identity both to find her true self and to reconcile those strands of identity with what it means to be French.

"Representation and identity are fraught topics in France, a country that prides itself on a universalist tradition that unites all citizens under a single French identify, regardless of their ethnicity or faith," Julia Webster Ayuso, reviewing the book in The Times, said. That's at least in part because too much focus on individual identity can be seen as a threat to social cohesion, the NYT review noted.

In other words, collective culture trumps individual notions of identity if you are French, more or less along the lines of the notions but forward by Isocrates.

"If you want to be French today, a fully French citizen, you have to give up one of the fragments of your identity," the author of "The Last One," called Fatima Daas, told the NYT.  Perhaps more than one, it might seem.

"The Last One" is apparently divided into a number of chapters, each of which considers one strand of the protagonist's identity. Some, such as her sexual orientation and her Islamic religion, are in conflict with each other as well as, perhaps, with a general cultural overlay. There's arguably nothing particularly new about that, but overall, the book, available in English, is perhaps an illuminating read in our current identify-focused culture. 

"Mockingbird" Fails the Political Correctness Test in Mukilteo

 In late December 2021, "To Kill a Mockingbird" won a New York Times contest for the best work of fiction published over the past 125 years. About a month later, a school board in Mukilteo, Washington voted to remove it from the required reading list for ninth graders,

Mukilteo, for those unfamiliar with it, is a coastal town north of Seattle next door to Everett, Washington, the site of one of Boeing's largest aircraft assembly plants, 

Removing a book from a required reading list is not the same as banning it since individual teachers can still assign it, but it is nonetheless an interesting development and, appropriately, the Mukilteo decision has been widely reported.

According to a report by the Everett HeraldNet, a local news outlet, the book was dropped for several reasons including that it "celebrates white saviorhood," is guilty of "marginalizing characters of color" and it uses "the n-word almost 50 times." 

This is a HUGE topic for anyone interested in fiction and and/or interested in whether, in the current, fraught sociopolitical climate, writers have to exercise self-censorship to avoid getting "cancelled" by the thought police. So what follows is, even more than usual, is meant to be provocative as opposed to dispositive.

First, of course, one has to ask why children are assigned to read works of fiction in school. Is this to familiarize themselves with writing as an art form, and in the process, learn how differing writers deal with differing subject matter in the course of practicing their art?  Or is it an exercise in political correctness, which is to say school children should be assigned books deemed ideologically appropriate for young minds and therefore properly instructive in the prevailing sociopolitical context?

This is, of course, a moving target. Much Young Adult fiction is now celebrated for dealing with topics of sexual identity that would have been deemed highly inappropriate not that long ago.  One could go on and on and especially with respect to themes of violence.

But back to "Mockingbird," a book about which I have had very mixed feelings after the controversial publication of "Go Set a Watchman," essentially the first draft of "Mockingbird," a few years ago. In a nutshell, a very talented editor known as Tay Hohoff worked with Harper Lee for a couple of years, an effort that significantly recast Lee's original conception and made the book vastly more sellable. One can argue the final product was as much a work of commerce as a work of art.

"I was a first-time writer so I did as I was told," Lee said in 1015 -- in the wake of the publication of "Watchman."

Most significantly, the chief character, Atticus Finch, depicted as a bigot in "Watchman," was turned into what the Mukilteo school board viewed as a representative of objectionable "white saviorhood" in "Mockingbird." 

That's interesting on its face. Readers of "Mockingbird" surely know that Finch succeeds in saving no one. At best he is a "savior wannabe," but frankly, not even that. He just believes that in a society established under the rule of law, justice should be applied fairly and equally to everyone. But gosh, he has white skin and is a male -- apparently cis-gender as well -- and we now know that cis-gender white males are responsible for The Patriarchy, slavery, colonialism, a fundamentally racist American Constitution and a systematically racist society and so forth and so on. So out he has to go.

But wait a minute: "Mockingbird" was written about a different era when such notions were not in vogue. It's a story about how a particular family, and a particular community, reacted to a certain situation during a certain period of time. Is that so difficult to understand? Can't a high school child, with a teacher's help, evaluate it in that context? Or does this instead have to be taught as a now all-too-transparent attempt by Lee and her editor to make white America look better than it actually has been -- and to make whites feel better about themselves than they "should." 

Then there is the charge that black characters were "marginalized" and that the "n-word" was used -- at all, or too often? Well, one of the three main characters in "Mockingbird" is black his role in central as opposed to marginal. But, too be fair, he is given more to say in the current Broadway play version of the story than in the book itself, perhaps reflecting such concerns. Interestingly, the Finch family's black maid, Calpurnia, is given more to say in "Watchman" than in the edited version of Lee's story, which is to say "Mockingbird."

But Lee can fairly argue that Tom Robinson, the falsely accused black man Atticus Finch attempts to defend, and Calpurnia were accurately depicted as they would have been during the time period in question. 

As for the "n-word," one hardly knows what to make of this when, walking down a crowded street in New York city, just ahead of a group of black males, one hears the taboo "n-word" in just about every sentence.