• Feminism,  Personal,  Wit,  Writing

    Wednesday Words

    No, I’m not on fire. At least not for the sake of other’s comfort.

    Anymore.

    Last night after dinner my husband asked me about taking care of some rather mundane tasks that belonged to other people; other adults to be exact.

    My gracious response was, “I’m not doing it. I’m tired of doing shit other people are supposed to do.”

    No kids or animals were around to hear my sparkly words so at least there’s that.

    His response was actually gracious. Because he is a very smart man. Well, actually he just said, “ok.” But whatever. Still a smart guy.

    However, I do think my abrupt answer speaks to where a lot of women are coming from these days. Especially women with one or all of the following: jobs, families, pets, household responsibilities, personal care, etc.

    We have been told we can have it all and in the process we have set ourselves on fire. Or worse, we have let others set us on fire for their own gain. They have taken advantage of our warmth.

    Now we are left burned. And hurting. Yet life moves on.

    Kids still need to get to school and activities. We have careers we show up for with smiles on our faces. Our homes need to be clean-ish. Our families have this crazy expectation to be fed. Even our pets want treats every time we walk in the door, even if it was just to get the mail. It’s exhausting.

    So Sunday evening, after a particularly trying weekend, the thought crossed my mind:

    What if I just stopped talking?

    I spend a lot of time up in my head with my thoughts but this was a weird one, even for me. It’s now Wednesday and I have finally figured out what that my silence would ideally achieve.

    If I stopped talking, people would see me.

    They would have to look. Forced to make eye contact. Forced to read expressions. Forced to make gestures… some probably not so nice if we’re being honest.

    We don’t see each other anymore. Our noses are buried in electronic devices. Even as we are rushing from activity to activity or chasing the next big promotion, we are texting and emailing instead of seeing the other person.

    And this lack of seeing others; I don’t believe it’s a female specific issue either. But because I’m a woman, this is my own perspective. And because this is me, I’m going to tell you what I, along with most women, long to hear:

    I see you.

    I see your frustration. I see your tears. I see your hurt over the destruction of addiction. I see your worry over your kids. I see the times you clean up messes made by other adults you are supposed to be able to count on. I see your struggles because we all have them. I see the well-intentioned fire you started to keep others warm and I see the harm it is doing to you.

    It’s time to stop the madness. Put the fire out and help another woman put her fire out as well. Because there is more than one way to generate warmth. Community instead of competition would be an excellent place to start.

    Build a different kind of fire. One that illuminates and allows us to see and support each other. We can all do better.

    And one last thing, take a look in the mirror and see yourself. I did that this morning and saw a woman doing her very best, and purposed to keep talking. Without as many sparkly words.

    Maybe…

  • Book Reviews,  Bookish,  Feminism,  Writing

    True Crime Addict & Dead Girls : A double book review and commentary on sensationalized violence against women – Part Two

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    This post is the second in a three part series about the true crime genre

    • Part One – background and review of True Crime Addict.
    • Part Two – review of Dead Girls.
    • Part Three – contrast the two books and discuss the positives and negatives of the genre.

    ✂️✂️✂️✂️.5/5

    I picked up Dead Girls by Alice Bolin up a few months ago. I typically read a few books and listen to an audiobook at the same time. A few minutes into the audiobook, True Crime Addict, I knew it was time to read this collection of essays.

    The subtitle of this book is: essays on surviving an American obsession

    Very interesting (and promising) given how popular the true crime genre has become. Case in point: True Detective on HBO.

    I think True Detective mania mostly owes itself to the complicated power of the Dead Girl Show. The Dead Girl Show’s notable theme are its two odd, contradictory messages for women. The first is that girls are wild, vulnerable creatures who need to be protected from the power of their own sexualities. True Detective demonstrates a self-conscious, conflicted fixation on strippers and sex workers. Hart [one detective] helps “free” a teenage prostitute from a brothel and, seven years later, cheats on his wife with her. – Alice Bolin, Dead Girls

    The book started out strong. The premise of murdered and missing women and the portrayal of the cases in books, podcasts, TV, and movies was one that I had been struck by in the past but couldn’t quite put my finger on what bothered me.

    As Bolin so succinctly put it, the murders and abductions were happening to the (mostly) male characters. These characters had their own issues that they attempted to work out in presenting or solving the case. The focus was on anything but the victim and the accounts were largely told from the male perspective of either the male investigator or perpetrator. Anyone but the victim.

    Yes, in real life the investigation has to focus on finding the perpetrator but how we present the case for information/entertainment purposes frequently misses the mark in favor of attention grabbing.

    Bolin also tackles how living women are also used and wrote brilliantly about Britney Spears. Remember her first big hit? You know, the one in the Catholic school girl uniform.

    Baby One More Time: the one where we were all so distracted by the visual sexual overtones of a 16-year-old. Enough so to miss the hook:

    My loneliness. Is killing me.

    My loneliness. Is killing me.

    You would have had to have been living under a rock to miss 2007 Britney Spears and it makes we wonder if she was the public personification of what happens to women that are used for entertainment and dare I say, art as some have claimed.

    She also addresses white women throughout the book but especially poignantly in her essay Accomplices.

    I was able to exist in his world as long as it felt like a game I was playing, one that reinforced the narrative of myself as able to fit in anywhere but belonging nowhere, privileged with a special separateness. It turns out that this is the mental game many white women play in social (and societal) situation that they benefit from but are ambivalent about perpetuating. My trouble came when I realized that I was playing for keeps- or not playing at all but living my real, only life. – Alice Bolin, Dead Girls

    Ouch. How many times have I found myself, in a male dominated industry, willing to go along with the guys for the sake of my own benefit? Plenty.

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    And we certainly saw this in the Kavanaugh hearings.

    This book was also, in my opinion, part memoir. Bolin chronicles her childhood, college years, and eventual move to Los Angeles. There are also a lot of mentions of her favorite author, Joan Didion, and this is where the essays became slightly repetitive and Didion a distraction for me.

    But that is also a general downside of reading a collection of essays; each one stands alone but when read together, can either drive home a point or become overbearing.

    I don’t want to focus on this issue too much because it detracts from the overall message of the book and that is an important message. But sadly, some readers may be lost in the redundancy. I moved past it and still want to read some of Joan Didion’s work.

    Lastly, as I was reading it dawned on me that even the title of this book had a sensational quality to it. That’s certainly what grabbed my attention, especially using “girls” versus “women”.

    At least Bolin had the self-awareness to admit her choice in the wording of the title. That is a far cry from True Crime Addict. I can’t help but find this a brilliant way the author chose to prove her premise of the entire book.

    From a pure book review perspective, I’ll rate the book 4/5. And more specifically I will rate these essays a 5/5:

    • Toward a Theory of a Dead Girl Show
    • The Husband Did It
    • Lonely Heart
    • Accomplices

    Bolin is a talented writer, well versed in the subject, and the essays are smartly written.

    Who would I recommend this book to? Anyone interested in a feminist commentary on the presentation of missing and murdered women for the sake of entertainment as well as so much more. And one last suggestion, approach this book with an open mind and more than likely you won’t be disappointed.

    … but I thought I was writing “about the noir.” That day was when I slowly began to realize that my book was maybe not about the noir but about those forces of which the noir was a symptom, not about dead white girls but the more troubling mystery of living ones. – Alice Bolin, Dead Girls

    I’ll discuss this and more in Part Three. Until then, go read Dead Girls, it will not disappoint!

  • Audiobooks,  Book Reviews,  Bookish,  Feminism,  Writing

    The Boston Girl Review : why average books can be great

    img_9440Does every book read have to be a five-star, award-winning, New York Times bestseller?

    When you read a lot and spend a good deal of time conversing with other readers it’s fairly easy to slip into the constant quest for the next great book. Instagram is my primary social media outlet because it’s fairly difficult to be nasty when you are essentially posting pictures with captions and a few thoughts. I digress but when I found “bookstagram” on Instagram I was thrilled.

    Fellow readers! On Instagram! Posting pictures of books! With book reviews!

    I fully admit to being a bookstagrammer and I find the community there to be warm, kind, respectful, and of course, interesting. I have only found one downside and can’t really imagine another one besides this one. What is it?

    Getting on board the latest and greatest book train that never stops. I love new books and enjoy reading what everyone is reading and talking about. I’m always looking out for the next great review while readying myself to grab said book and read it ahead of all the other books in my to-be-read pile.

    But what about the average books? The ones that aren’t what everyone is raving about? For me, I have learned that average books have plenty to offer. I found this true after finishing this audiobook, The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant.

    I was pleasantly surprised by the book. The plot, the writing, and the storytelling quality of the book made it a nice change of pace. Especially after back to back books about missing and dead women.

    I logged into Goodreads to mark this book complete and started reading reviews. I was surprised at how tough some of the reviews were. Of course reviews should be honest and every reader is entitled to their opinion but reading comments about being “tired of the immigrant to America success story” plot made me laugh.

    What would be preferred? To read books about immigrants coming to America and failing? We get enough of that narrative in real life. Again I digress but I don’t want every book I read to mirror reality.

    Average books have plenty to draw from and I have found that the average quality gives the reader room to think, reflect, and take from the book what they want or even need.

    The Boston Girl is a coming of age, immigrant success story told by 85-year-old Addie to her granddaughter. She was born in America in 1900 to Jewish immigrants. She had two older sisters and her life began in a one room apartment.

    Addie’s parents were very traditional but 16-year-old Addie wanted more from life than to only marry and have children. She wanted an education and to even have a career. But the early 1900’s were not especially kind to women like Addie or women in general.

    The issues of abortion, sexual assault, suicide, death, child labor, illness, racism, and sexism were all a part of this book. Told solely from Addie’s perspective, it is the story of a young woman navigating her way through some of the very same issues women face today.

    The plot did not expand upon every single issue and while that bothered some reviewers, I liked being able to think about the issues on my own, how they related to the character, and how not so different they are even today.

    Who would I recommend this book to? Anyone who isn’t sick of the “immigrant to America success story”. I joke… kind of. This book was a quick read (listen) and a good reminder of despite how bleak things seem today, the world and it’s view of women has improved. Yes, there is more work to do but I found the tenacity, humor, and intelligence of Addie to be endearing and encouraging.

    I listened to the audio version of this book and the narration was wonderful. The narrator sounded like a Boston girl in her 80’s and her words added to the overall effect of the book. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to a feisty grandma tell me about her life and the time she smoked pot on her 80th birthday with her granddaughter.

    Who wouldn’t want to get to know a character like that?

    What is one of your favorite average books?

    (Audiobook)

  • Audiobooks,  Book Reviews,  Bookish,  Feminism,  Writing

    True Crime Addict Part One : A double book review and commentary on sensationalized violence against women

    This post has been rolling around in my mind for weeks. I have a lot of thoughts to share and plan to break this into three parts.

    • Part One – background and review of True Crime Addict.
    • Part Two – review of Dead Girls.
    • Part Three – contrast the two books and discuss the positives and negatives of the genre.

    Background: Several years ago I became a fan of true crime podcasts. It’s a terribly sad subject matter and I dropped most of them for my mental health in favor of politics podcasts. That worked out well.

    My Favorite Murder was the very first one I listened to and still listen to on occasion. Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark are the podcasters and somehow strike a balance with a very difficult subject matter. They aren’t perfect in their presentation every time but they are far more respectful of the victims than most.

    Then I stumbled on another one, Sword & Scale, that many seemed to enjoy. I made it through exactly 1.5 episodes and realized that something wasn’t sitting right with me. It was so sensational and the podcaster, Mike Boudet, took special pride in graphic details, terrifying 911 calls, and taking a very dramatic and over-produced tone when presenting his research and timeline of events. I moved on after listening to half of an episode with graphic descriptions of harming children. No thanks.

    Other than the obvious, I couldn’t put my finger exactly on why I enjoyed one podcast but not the other. Beyond the graphic sensationalism, there was something more.

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    So after practically having a nervous breakdown over politics, I revisited the true crime genre with this book by James Renner. The title of the book was intriguing and I hoped it would answer some of my reasons for pause about this genre.

    It did not disappoint from the very beginning. Let’s start with the title:

    True Crime Addict: How I Lost Myself in the Mysterious Disappearance of Maura Murray

    Look at the tagline: “How I Lost Myself…”. Put that with the title:

    True Crime Addict, I, Myself

    All descriptors for the author. The disappearance of Maura Murray is almost an afterthought. There was my first issue with the handling of this genre.

    Was the disappearance of Maura Murray investigated in this book? Yes. And with a large bias against the family because they didn’t want to talk to Renner. With much sarcasm… I can’t imagine why.

    I listened to the audiobook read by the author and hearing it straight from his own mouth was interesting to say the least. Within the first few chapters he revealed that a test he took with his therapist scored him with a personality and characteristics similar to Ted Bundy.

    He didn’t speak of this with fear or reserve but almost a bravado. It was unsettling to say the least to include such personal psychological references in a true crime book about a missing woman.

    He also spoke of falling in love with a missing girl after seeing her “missing” poster when he was a young boy and was formerly obsessed with her case. Missing girls and women consume this author and his life over and over and he spends a fair amount of time writing about such.

    Enter a quick preview of the second book, Dead Girls: Essays on Surviving an American Obsession by Alice Bolin.

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    Investigating these murders essentially ruins [detectives] Cohle’s and Hart’s  lives. When we see them in 2012, Cohle is gaunt and bedraggled, now a bartender who starts drinking at noon on his day off. Hart is off the force, too, and divorced, drinking again and working as a private eye. How sad these murders had to happen to them. 

    -Dead Girls, Alice Bolin

     

    Interwoven into Renner’s book were the author’s own life experiences, mental health, family issues, trauma, and descent into alcohol abuse. Sound familiar?

    There were also plenty of self-congratulatory passages on his research methods and “transparency”. He created a network of internet sleuths who spent their time chasing theories, some being straight up conspiracy, and freely shared this information on his blog.

    On the surface it seemed to be an interesting methodology. But in the end there were elements of harassment of the victim’s family. For example, Renner gave out the father’s address in the book. There was also harassment of Renner’s family that stemmed from his blog and research.

    The harassment of the Murray family was barely discussed and mostly under the guise of investigative journalism. But the harassment of the author’s family had at least a chapter devoted to it and much was made of the rage he felt and the reminder of his Ted Bundy-esque characteristics.

    Again, it was more about what the investigation of the crime did to him; how the disappearance of Maura Murray had and was happening to him.

    This is a common theme in true crime be it from the investigative journalists, the authors, or even law enforcement. Dead Girls explores this phenomenon and that is where I’ll pick up with Part Two.

    My rating of True Crime Addict: ✂️✂️✂️/5 but not for writing or content. Rather, this book brought to the forefront my issues with the genre and helped me organize my thoughts around the sensationalism of females being harmed.

    Who would I recommend this book to? Not many; even the true crime fans. It’s a disjointed investigation that leads nowhere. And to complicate matters, it’s an odd thing to witness as Renner inserts himself and his own issues into the disappearance of a young woman.

    Multiple young women.

  • Feminism,  Personal,  Writing

    About this morning…

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    To say that the last two weeks have been tough would be an understatement. And really, it’s been more like the last four years. I’ve shared snippets here and there on Instagram but because so much has been intertwined with other peoples’ stories to tell, I have largely remained quiet.

    But in remaining quiet I lost my voice. Sure, I had a voice to advocate for everyone around me but for me it was radio silence. I’m not blaming anyone for this because I know I did the right things for the right reasons.  I wouldn’t change anything because our experiences make us into the people we are meant to become.

    This summer we stopped watching the news. It was a conscious decision that Steve and I made together and it was a good decision. I get everything I need to know from my daily conference calls and emails at work. The rest of it, the commentary especially, wasn’t good for my mental health.

    I have paid attention to the Kavanaugh hearings and as a mother of a daughter who had her own story to tell earlier this year, yesterday was gut-wrenching. Between that and everything else, I woke up on fire this morning.

    I am far from perfect and I yelled. I yelled at my daughter and my husband over things that are worthy of getting upset about. But I felt so much more inside and knew it was about far more than people not taking care of their morning responsibilities.  I had hit my limit. With everything.

    I don’t cry and this morning my daughter saw me cry for the first time ever as I apologized to her for yelling. But I wasn’t crying just because I yelled. I was crying because I woke up different. And tired.

    I’m tired of how people treat each other. I’m tired of how men treat women. I’m tired of how women treat men. And the worst, I’m tired of how women treat each other. I’m tired of trying guess what is next and what someone’s motives are. And I’m tired of things that don’t bring me peace. When you don’t have peace, you get caught up in the chaos and the next thing you know you’ve lost your voice. I know this cycle well.

    I was telling my husband last night that lately, no matter how bad my day was, writing in the evenings helped my mood. So I’ll be writing more. Writing brings me peace and gives me a voice.

    And quite possibly, more peace and feeling like I am heard will keep me from losing my mind at 7:00 am when our dogs do dumb shit. Everyone wins.

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