Other Voices in the Desert

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A Myopia with the Women

Before the Christmas break I made a confession to a group of friends that while I enjoy reading, I have not read many female authors. I confessed further that I had developed something of an aversion to books written by women in the realm of literature. I have no idea where this attitude came from or how it developed, especially since I was raised solely by a woman who loved me dearly and took very good care of me raised me. Of course, it is possible that my issue with women writers has nothing to do with my mother. As I said, I don’t know.

Indeed, sometimes I wonder if my aversion is real, or if it is perhaps something else entirely. My favorite book of all time is To Kill a Mockingbird, which was written by a woman, Harper Lee. I am also a huge fan of Jane Austen and Pride and Prejudice is on my annual reading list. I’ve also read Ayn Rand, and her stuff is not bad at all.

And yet, still, when I am at the bookstore I am more inclined to buy and read a book written by a man than by a woman. What’s my deal? Anyone out there share these kinds of attitudes? It is worth noting that this aversion only applies in the area of literature, I have no such attitude toward women theologians. In fact two of my favorite theologians are women – Nancy Murphy and Katharine Tanner. But when it comes to the fiction…

I know this probably makes me out to be a jerk. I have been told that such an attitude toward women writers makes my opinion on anything skewed and even invalid. Such a perspective is harmful to my overall view of the world, my thoughts colored and jaded.

As part of my confession I also made a promise that I would work hard to mend my crooked ways. After all, all I can do is confess my wrong and work toward becoming a better person, right? And so, in following through on this commitment I went to Barnes and Noble last night intent on finding some literature penned by those of the female persuasion.

Going to Barnes and Noble for me is like being a five year old in a candy store with the attention span of the same. And I have developed a method of bouncing from section to section that assures I will do the optimum browsing/reading/learning. First I hit the Starbucks and get some coffee, then periodicals, flip through the Harper’s and The Nation enough to feel as though I’ve caught up with world events and commentary thereupon. Then I move to the Literary Theory and Essays section, which is by far my favorite in the store. After picking up and reading through the same books I always do (Marxist and Postmodern criticism stuff), I move directly to the Philosophy section, paying especially close attention to Language/Linguistics. A few steps away, I move to the Christianity section, which is fairly weak at Barnes and Noble. Only here would Lucado and Yancy be considered serious theologians. A quick walk through History, a brief moment spent wondering if I would actually read a biography on Lincoln, and then I am on to the Reference section, where I spend half and hour reading style manuals. I once bought a set of Dictionary and Thesaurus because I thought having them sitting by my desk would inspire me to write. A pipe dream. After reading about writing I am always stirred to write, and so I move over to the Theater/Film/Television section, because who doesn’t want to write a movie, right? And screenwriting and playwriting books are really the best books for any kind of writing, teaching you so much about character, plot, structure and most of all storytelling. I’ve read and bought so many of them, in fact, that when I see a movie I see script instead of pictures, like Neo saw the matrix code. It’s made me a very knowledgeable critic and somewhat gifted at deconstructing a movie, finding structure and meaning and character – but alas hasn’t really helped me be a better writer, because after all, you actually have to write to be that.

And finally, after all the bouncing and hours after I walked in the door, I come to the literature section. After paying my obligatory dues to Orwell and Salinger, I begin my search for works written by women.

There are a lot of women writers. And they have written a lot of books.

So how was I to choose? Some women write it seems simply because they are women. Sometimes praising the differences and unique sexuality of women, and sometimes trying to break down the walls between men and women. Then there are ardent and angry feminists. Their work is angry and their words harsh toward people of my gender. While their critique should probably be heard, I didn’t want to start there.

Some women, though, write simply because they can write, and they are artists, and are incredibly gifted at it. This, in the gift of language and words and storytelling, is where I wanted to start. I also wanted to find an author who was modern, and not someone like Jane Austen, whom I already was in love with (I wonder if I love her because her stories are good or if she is a social critic and world class ethicist?). But who?

While I haven’t read a great deal from female writers, I have read enough of other stuff in literary criticism, theology, philosophy and various other essays to accumulate a lot of names in my head of women writers who were admired by people. Armed with this knowledge, I settled on two authors of whom I had heard very good things: Toni Morrison and Flannery O’Connor.

Morrison won the Nobel Prize and Pulitzer Prize for literature, which is unassailably cool. She won the Nobel for her entire body of work, given as a lifetime achievement, and placing the stamp of literary giant on her and her work. She was awarded the Pulitzer for her book Beloved, which I had heard about before, and it’s supposedly her best work – and so it seemed like the best place to start. O’Connor, on the other hand, I know less about. She is not as prolific as Morrison, and not as praised. She died early though, at the age of thirty-nine. But she is often quoted in books on theology and literature, and she’s female, so she met all the qualifications I was looking for in an author. I picked up two books authored by her, one novel called The Violent will Bear it Away, and a collection of short stories, Everything that Rises must Converge.

So there it is. I’m excited to read both authors and move past this horrible stigma of mine. I will dive into both as soon as I finish a book called The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (who, unfortunately, has a penis), which is a fine book I would suggest to anyone looking to read a modern male author. I will keep you posted on my literary journey into the minds and storied-worlds of female authors, and I hope that some of you will be willing to discuss these works with me.

To a better world…