The Female Man / Honmänniskan

I've Just finished a Swedish translation of The Female Man by Joanna Russ, who passed away earlier this year. It was a good read. The novel was nominated in 1975 to the Nebula Award, probably the greatest award for science fiction literature in USA.

The book is partly about travelling in time and between dimensions and is written by an angry, lesbian feminist. Russ is by far my favourite feminist theorist in science fiction literature and I warmly recommend her works, for instance How to Suppress Women's Writing. Her texts are clever, witty and really funny. Still, I found this book on the library sale.

...ok. Both science fiction and feminism are small fields, not to mention a combination of them. And the book has gotten old. Thoughts and currents develop and the new ones replace the old ones. But the book's age is, in fact, one of the things I like most about it. For me it summarizes many thoughts of the feminist movement at this time, and the mere genre it is written in is worth mentioning. When I wrote my BA thesis this spring (yet to be published, in Swedish though) I learned that genres such as science fiction and fantasy are someties used by feminist writers as a means to create and discuss alternative relationships between men and women, as well as “utopias” where women have taken over. In The Female Man Russ presents both the world where there are only women, which is good but hardly perfect, the future where there is a war of the sexes and men and women only meet to exchange goods, services and babies; the world as it was when the book was written and a more old-fashioned world. We get to know one women from each of these four worlds, and they meet of a reason told towards the end of the book.

I know I wrote earlier that the book has gotten old. Unfortunately, women are still facing widespread sexism and many of the same problems as in the beginning of the 70's, spite an ongoing feminist movement for the last... wow. More than 40 years. In fact, Russ ends the book by expressing the wish that the discussions in the book will once become old and impossible to relate to, laughed at and out-dated.

“Gläd dig, lilla bok!

För den dagen är vi fria.”

The reader is among other things told about the blame that is put on the victims of rape, highlighted today in slut walks across the world. Women were and still are objectified and being told that being ugly is one of the worst things a woman can be: “Det var den hemliga skulden för sjukdom, misslyckande, fulhet (mycket värre saker än mord)” (s. 188).We read about men refusing to accept that there are some women out there who only prefer women. ONLY women. “'Drömmer du inte om det? Drömmer inte alla tjejer om det?' 'Det vet du, Lenny', sade hon. 'Visst gör jag det', sade han entusiastiskt. 'Visst. Det ser jag på er varenda gång ni kommer hit. Ni blir upphetsade bara ni ser det. Som läkarna säger kan vi göra det med varandra, men det kan inte ni, eller hur? Så ni får inget.'” (s. 164-165)

For instance.

The male people in the book are very stupid and more or less helpless, and all grim and selfish, except for the beautiful android sex-slave. One might react to this, saying “ok, she is an angry feminist and into women and all that but hey! men are not all that bad, there are nice guys out there”. True. But if we think about it, couldn't it be that by making a whole sex stupid and helpless, the author wants to tell us something about the characterization in too many other texts that we read?

I'd like to stress here, at the end, that the book doesn't give any answers. Russ does not point out the way for us, but she raises questions about what it means to be a Woman; today, back then and in a possible future. And she does it with anger, love and humour.

Finale.

”Den lilla blå anteckningsboken skramlade runt i min ficka. Jag tog fram den och slog upp den på det sista han hade sagt ('Din korkade brudjävel' et cetera). Under stod det: Flickan backar undan – gråter – manligheten hävdad. Under 'Riktigt Slagsmål Med Flicka' stod det: Skada inte (utom horor). Jag tog fram min egen rosa bok, för vi har varsin allesammans, och när jag slog upp instruktionerna under ”Brutalitet” stod det: Mannens dåliga humör är kvinnans fel. Det är också kvinnans ansvar att lappa ihop det hela efteråt.” (s. 52)

For my sister

"The game gave him an inexplicable satisfaction, the same he felt when he lay on his back in bed hanging his head downward over the bed's edge, and by an act of will convinced his eyes that the floor was a dark dusty ceiling over his head, and the ceiling a white floor, with lamps sprouting upward from it: and a house different but the same, empty of furniture, extending outward room upon room over the tall thresholds of the open doors."

- John Crowley: Love & Sleep

Einstein on the Beach

Today I went to the library and bought a pile of books that were out of use. One of them (Experimentfälten by Torsten Ekbom) was about pioneers in different artforms, and in the discussion following the purchase of the book E.F. played Einstein on the Beach for me on Youtube (in the meantime he deconstructed a computer to make some art - I do like the variety of his fields of interest!). Music was not bad.

The chapter was partly about the opera, it did sound very interesting, and now I want to see it.

the Sun and the Rainfall

It is raining.
Not yesterday; yesterday it was hot and sunny and i was able to lie outside all day and read.
I’ve finished one book already.
This evening i embarked on reading Lunar Park. Funny how easy it is to go back to what is familiar; to your favourite writers, composers, whatever. To Bret Easton, Dostoyevsky, Skinny Puppy, Depeche Mode and Wilde (oh Wilde, who i love so much!). Not to mention the men that i bring back from memory and take with me as imaginary friends on my walks.
It is rather empty here, if i don’t count the people down in the village.

Tomorrow we will go to the mainland to buy food and to go to the flea market. Let’s hope for bloggable adventures!

On request: a New Post.

To be honest, i’ve been too good to be writing in my blog all days. Working more than ever, yes, but also reading and eating very much.
And i didn’t know what to write. What do you want to hear?

Knitting is going well; i started on my second mitten yesterday. My grandfather died a week ago without any warning and we are all, still, very surprised. Relatives came over on the weekend and we talked and celebrated my father who was turning 59. Sunday afternoon i remembered very well. I finished Small Gods and begun reading Myndin af Dorian Gray.
Sofa, thick blanket, tea, candy and books until evening-time.
Tomorrow i’ll work for the seventh day in a row, not that i mind, and go to a concert with Lustans Lakejer at the train station.
Today i’ve been looking at videos with talking cats and farting babies on youtube.
We’ve had really good weather now for some days with lots of blue sky and the occasional glimpse of the sun. No wind, sometimes light rain.
I like Military Fashion show by And One because it reminds me of my favourite club here in Gautaborg, and Enjoy the Unknown because it is kind of irresistible.

Oh yeah, and i’m going to study… logics? in spring. On a distance so that i can move whenever i want to.

Picture: my cousin’s daughter. We were babysitting her on Saturday night and she made us cabbage tea. Tasted odd but somewhat like summer.

all that i do or don't do

I tell myself that i read. In fact, i don't. I borrow books from friends and family and at libraries, i carry them around in bags and purses, i talk about them, i put them in order and look at the covers when i try to tidy up in my room and my dream is to work in a library or even better; in an antique bookstore. But i can't recall the last time i read one. Instead, i spend all my free time in front of the internet or together with my mum. My mum is to me what my wife, Anne, was to me in Reykjavík. A woman i live with that i'm able to spend hours and hours drinking tea and talking about men with. Maybe i should cure my heterosexuality and get a real wife one day. To drink tea with.
Talking about tea, yesterday i got a new favourite one: Sir Williams! Mixing Earl Grey and Lapsang Souchong, why didn't i ever think of that? Yummy. If you are in Göteborg you could find it... ai. In a store with soaps, teas and oils on Haga Nygata.
Anyway. I was thinking about reading a book by Vladimir Odojevskij that i got from Mamma (she got an e-mail from her friend who is in St Petersburg now, living on Nevjskij Prospekt, how i envy him! Would anyone like to go with me to Russia in spring? I'm afraid i don't dare to go alone), have anyone read him? Mid-19th century author. I need some booky guidance right now.

"Have some wine", the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. "I don't see any wine", she remarked.
"There isn't any", said the March Hare.

fumbler/fálmari

ha-HA! Anne and me found a toaster the other day that burns skulls onto the sneiðar, and this time you can really see the bones and the grinning skull. Pirate breakfast.
Had a busy week and no time for blogging. Went to Kolaportið on Sunday and found some really nice books and two pairs of shoes; ran into Sabrina and Camilla and was almost flying on my way home. Euphoria! The best word there is!
"Orð! Orðin ein! Hve ægileg voru þau! Hve ljós, lifandi og miskunnarlaus! Þau urðu ekki umflúin. Og þó, hvílikir leynitöfrar fólust ekki í þeim. Þau virtist vera þess megnug að formlausum hlutum líf og mynd og eiga sinn eigin tónagaldur svo þýðan sem fiðlunnar eða lútunnar. Orðin ein! Var nokkuð svo raunverulegt, sem orð?"
Yes, i did find Dorian Gray in Icelandic. Yes, I am obsessing about the book.
Hmmm…
On Wednesday I celebrated Lucia with some friends; made lussekatter and drank glögg. Went to Sirkus to see Ghostigital and they are so so SO good!

Oh and the weekend! I got a new friend on Friday; Magnús (visited him on Wednesday, note to self: find a darkroom to rent). We were puzzling, playing kalaha and talking talking talking. It is nice to meet new friends.
Met up with Joost and Óli later on and danced to New Order and Gus Gus in Kaffibarinn.
Burnt a toast because I was too busy blogging, ha ha
On Saturday evening I was invited to my mum’s friends and had some real food. Really: fish soup, garlic bread. I love my life here but it was very relaxing to be in this safe grown-up atmosphere for some hours with real furniture and… uh… grown-ups.
Went to Fjólugata afterwards to be young and to drink whiskey and vodka together with Joost and talk about love and relationships… while Mushi, the cat, gave birth to Malva, Booy and Mlakar on his couch. Joost dressed up as Hunter S. Thompson and around 4 am we went out, tricked us in as VIP:s and danced in bar 11 until i got… tired… and went home. Met some weirdo on the way who tried all pick-up lines “I know you want to kiss me, but you are too shy!” there are and who seems to be Stefán’s neighbour (met weirdo on Monday outside the house; he tried to hold me, I’m not joking! There are plenty of weirdoes out there..). This city is actually very small and I’m still not used to it.
Went to Fjólugata yesterday where Óli told me and Joost the story of the fall of the house of Usher (and a good story-teller he is), and also had a movie-night with Stefán.
Doughnuts and samlokubrauð with marmite for breakfast.
Life is good.

the artist is the creator of beautiful things

uI went to the big book fair today, and i bought:
A Rumpus in the Garden (kackel i grönsakslandet) by Sven Nordqvist - to Einar. He was here some ten days and left yesterday. I cried the whole day until my mum’s friends came in the evening and gave me red wine. They talked about St Petersburg and the north of Sweden, and I went to bed in a good mood and was no longer afraid to sleep alone.
Container by Max Andersson (one of my favourite comic writers, together with Joakim Pirinen and Daniel Ahlgren. Ok, Mystiska 2:an by Rolf Gohs is a favourite comic because of old Stockholm city and the way it is drawn. Wow! I had forgotten about them! Better look for my albums later on. And Strangers in Paradise by Terry Moore because they both look smashing and because of the lööööv story.)
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
A collection with three books by Carl Johan De Geer
Dokument Rörande Spelaren Rubashov by Carl-johan (nú!) Vallgren

and a pocket mirror

I got wine and free stuff, met people and mingled. My aunt introduced me to some Icelanders and my mum found a book with my dad in it. This is the best event of the year. Viva Bokmässan!