Showing posts with label Naomi Alderman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Naomi Alderman. Show all posts

February 4, 2020

Fave Quote of the Book: Disobedience by Naomi Alderman

Disobedience by Naomi Alderman
Amazon link:
When a young photographer living in New York learns that her estranged father, a well-respected rabbi, has died, she can no longer run away from the truth, and soon sets out for the Orthodox Jewish community in London where she grew up.

Back for the first time in years, Ronit can feel the disapproving eyes of the community. Especially those of her beloved cousin, Dovid, her father’s favorite student and now an admired rabbi himself, and Esti, who was once her only ally in youthful rebelliousness. Now Esti is married to Dovid, and Ronit is shocked by how different they both seem, and how much greater the gulf between them is.

But when old flames reignite and the shocking truth about Ronit and Esti’s relationship is revealed, the past and present converge in this award-winning and critically acclaimed novel about the universality of love and faith, and the strength and sacrifice it takes to fight for what you believe in—even when it means disobedience.
I read this book in one sitting two Christmases ago, before all of this happened. The Husband and I were locked away in a cabin in the middle of the woods with no cell phone signal, no television, and barely enough internet for it to be worth it.

It was wonderful. We spent four days off the grid. I read five or six books in that time. We sat by the fireplace and listened to Frank Sinatra and other jazzy favorites of ours. I really couldn't ask for a better Christmas.

So, without further ado, my favorite quote from this book:
"All things, when measured in spans of years, seem simple. But human lives do not occur in years but slowly, day by day. A year may be easy, but its days are hard indeed" (Alderman 222).
Just a little over a year ago, I put a bookmark* on this page because even then I knew I would want to revisit these sentences. How could I have known how viscerally that quote would hit me today? The true gut punch here is that 2019 was arguably one of the most difficult years of my entire life for a variety of reasons. So many of my days in 2019 involved physical, emotional, spiritual suffering, and I did not know how to get through it. There is a quote attributed to Winston Churchill which some quick Googling tells me is probably misattributed to him, but the quote is still quite relevant: "If you are going through hell, keep going."

Those who know me well know that my stubbornness and spite have gotten me through some truly difficult experiences. For that, I blame inertia. A *me* in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by some outside force. I may not be the fastest in the race, or the smartest in the class, but my stubbornness has carried me along with good strong inertia.

Each day that was oh so difficult last year, regardless of the reason why, was punctuated by a semicolon; this may be a pause in the sentence, but tomorrow I will start again, spiting and stubborning my way through the day. And before I know it, 2019 is over, and we are into a new year (and new deductible, if you feel inclined to donate). I have a feeling that this year will be difficult, but you know what? I've made it through lots of difficult days, which add up to lots of difficult years. Day by day, we carry on.

So it goes.

*A random scrap of paper; bookmarks are for quitters.

September 13, 2019

Did you read with me? The Power by Naomi Alderman

Did you Read with Me?



The Power
Because this is not like a traditional book club, I am posting this follow up because I finally finished the book. If you have not finished be aware, spoilers may be found in the rest of the post and in the comments. Continue if you dare!
Spoilers!
Before we start with any of the discussion questions that I had linked to before, I wanted to talk about a couple of things that stood out to me.

Remember, Amazon's blurb says
"In THE POWER, the world is a recognizable place: there's a rich Nigerian boy who lounges around the family pool; a foster kid whose religious parents hide their true nature; an ambitious American politician; a tough London girl from a tricky family. But then a vital new force takes root and flourishes, causing their lives to converge with devastating effect. Teenage girls now have immense physical power--they can cause agonizing pain and even death. And, with this small twist of nature, the world drastically resets."
I expected this book to play with gender roles in unexpected ways. I did not expect this book to completely avoid the idea of sex vs. gender in the way that it did. There was one male character who had the power (in one of Margot's chapters, because it was a boy that Jos knew) but the book made it clear the reason the boy had the power was because of a chromosomal abnormality. I expected Jos's troubles to turn out to be because she was trans, but unless I missed something, from what I can tell, the power was entirely determined by sex, not by gender. So she was just defective.

I was disappointed that there was this missed opportunity to examine how the power would affect those who are trans, those who are intersex, those who may have transitioned, and how the new society would affect, accept, or reject those who did not fit these norms. Besides the one boy (can anyone remind me of what chapter he appeared in??) the only examination of gender roles besides the obvious was with Jos and her trouble controlling her power. Her lack of control was presented as a defect, and I was not comfortable with the idea of her lack of control being viewed as failing to present her femininity in the expected and most appropriate way. In this book, are woman with the power expected to remain consistently in control? As a logical counter-example, are men in the real world (not the book) expected to remain consistently in control?

A couple of things that stood out to me before I address some of those discussion questions:

At one point, Tunde writes in his notes that
"At first we did not speak our hurt because it was not manly. Now we do not speak it because we are afraid and ashamed and alone without hope, each of us alone. It is hard to know when the first became the second" (Alderman 269). 
This really jumped out at me, not because of the evaluation of masculinity, but rather because of the universality of trauma. It is so easy to feel alone in whatever trauma you have experienced, and that feeling of aloneness leads to a stigma, a feeling of shame because how are we strong and independent people supposed to admit weakness as a result of our traumas? We all have traumas, right?

I have at least two separate moments in my life that definitively caused PTSD. I talk about those moments with close friends and family. I talk about those moments even more with my therapist. How many people talk about those moments at all? How many people suffer alone in their hurt?

Roxy and Tunde eventually end up together, and the next thing that really jumped out at me was:
"Their bodies have been rewritten by suffering" (Alderman 324).
This really speaks to me about identity. Suffering changes us fundamentally, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, even physically. Depending upon the kind of suffering we are talking about, there is a visceral change from deep within, and learning who you now are can be quite the journey. Of course, because of my diagnosis, there are certain things I pick up on. I have changed fundamentally because of this diagnosis. But the idea that the change is a rewriting of myself speaks to me as an English Instructor. Those of us who teach composition spend so much time talking about re-writing, the difference between revision versus proofreading, the importance of understanding that writing is a process.

Reading this, I suddenly had this feeling. Suffering changes us, but it had never before occurred to me that suffering could make us better. The other day, I was speaking with my therapist (remember, therapy is good, y'all!) and she said something that really changed my perspective. She told me that an oncologist had asked her why she decided she wanted to specialize in oncology counseling as opposed to all the other kinds that are out there. She told me that she thought about it, and told the doctor that she found that her patients discovered their best selves as they worked through treatments, pills, radiation, therapy, and everything else. She said that in other specialties, she rarely saw so much change so significantly in her other clients as in her oncology clients.

I think that my body has been rewritten by suffering. The beautiful part of that is that I get to rediscover who I am going to become.

So, in the meantime, let's talk discussion questions:
1. The premise of The Power seems to be that if a new world order were created—with women in charge—it would look little different from the way it does now. That woman would use their power to oppress men. Do you agree with that premise? Does Naomi Alderman make her case convincingly? Do you see other possibilities?

2. Follow-up to Question 1: The book poses a question: why do people abuse power? What does the book suggest the answer is? What is your answer?

3. As an interesting exercise, go through the novel to identify those societal structures, both legitimate and criminal, that have been changed by feminine power. Look at how the book treats religion, the military, sex trafficking and porn, harassment, even bullying. What does the new power inversion say about the way gender and sexuality operates in "normal" society (i.e., today in the early 21st century)?

4. In what ways does each of the four characters—Eve, Roxy, Tunde, and Margot—illuminate the events of the novel and all that has changed? Whose perspective or story do you find most interesting … or revealing … or engaging?

5. What do you make of Neil Adam Armon and his gushing letter to Naomi Alderman, "I am so grateful you could spare the time," and "Sorry, I'll shut up now"? If you are a woman, does that tone, do those words, have a familiar ring? Also, what's the joke here about appropriation, given that Alderman's name, not Neil's, ends up on the novel? (If you haven't already, play around with the letters of Neil's name.)

6. Vogue reviewer, Bridget Read (really), calls parts of the book "revenge porn." Do you agree with her label? Do you find the revenge satisfying or twisted … or both?

7. Neil ponders: "Gender is a shell game. What is a man? Whatever a woman isn't. What is a woman? Whatever a man is not. Tap on it and it's hollow. Look under the shells: It's not there." What does Neil mean, and do you agree or disagree? How do you see gender? Is it "real" or a social construct?

I will answer some (but not all) of the questions in the comments below.

Remember, spoilers abound!

August 24, 2019

Read with Me: The Power by Naomi Alderman

If you would like to read with me, check out the info below:


The Power
It is almost time to start reading!

I don't want to run this like a traditional book club, because that requires everyone to be on pretty close to the same pace, and I know that my pace has definitely slowed down (2 brain surgeries!).

So, instead, I found a site with discussion questions to think about as we read. No deadline, no "read chapter 1 by Monday" or anything like that. Read with me, ahead of me, or along with me, and think about those discussion questions. Post comments here if you have thoughts, questions, or want to ask me or anyone else for clarification.

Have fun!