“Like most uneducated Englishwomen, I like reading--I like reading books in the bulk.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Tidying up for the Apocolypse

Women in apocalyptic fiction: a brief analysis of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, World War Z, The Age of Miracles, and The Walking Dead.
 
Be honest: if the world was ending right now, wouldn’t you want your mama? Me too. That’s why as much as I love a gritty apocalyptic narrative, chalked full of  survival, death and destruction. I can’t help but think there is room for a more feminine side.

I’m disappointed with the lack of strong female characters in the genre. As the world ends, women seem stuck in their most ancient of roles: whining, useless, and in need of saving. Feminine weakness is a tradition of the drama. Case in point: Night of the Living Dead. The women are so frantic, I was glad when they finally died. As the genre grows in popularity, will it’s portrayal of women also expand? I’ve been watching with interest. 


I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, hoping, like many that the zombie/love story mash up would be even better than the original. This could be awesome: adventure, zombies, and Elizabeth Bennett. Of course, as you know if you read it, you remember, that the mash-up is more mockery than innovation.  Zombies are haphazardly added to the original text with little effort to even fit in with the plot. The gimmick was funny simply because of the assumption that zombies were much cooler than the “girl stuff” (i.e. love, family, and the internal struggles created by external conflict).

 Since the Jane Austin re-write, action packed zombie adventures abound. Yet, most of these versions of the end similarly leave little room for the feminine.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that girls are all emotion and men are all action. I'm all about a strong female and a man who can express himself. I just want a drama to explore the power of both: emotion and action.

I’ve gone along for the ride on some of these apocalyptic adventures. I trudged through part of World War Z, which leads all the way through like the intro scenes to law and order. The text tells about the apocalyptic zombie infested world through brief interviews with survivors. The author describes, in detail, the world post-zombies, through short poignant interviews. There is disaster at every page turn. There are interesting political issues and plenty of commentary. I was disappointed, though with the lack of female voices in the text. Further, the voices present, are mostly weak. Men run the country, eat people, and save lives, while women cry. Female nurses hyperventilate while male doctor’s take out zombies. Further, the book, like the world it depicts, lacks femininity. Where is the heart? The character development? The apocalypse doesn’t just cause physical damage, there had to be emotional turmoil, personal growth, even.  Just because zombies don’t have feelings doesn’t mean a book about zombies should go without.

A sharp contrast to World War Z, The Age of Miracles, by Karen Thompson Walker, is an apocalyptic narrative with a woman’s touch. The novel tells the story of earth beginning to slow, and society and nature falling apart incrementally, day by day. There is little gore here. Instead of zombies eating people, the catastrophe is subtle--the breakdown of relationships caused by the environmental change. In one poignant scene, whales begin to die because the earth’s magnetic field is disrupted. The protagonist, a 12 year old loner, and her new boyfriend run back and forth up the beach with buckets, watering a beached whale, only to find it is already dead. The detail and emotion in this book are masterful. The breakdown of the family structure and the emotions of disaster are satisfyingly explored. This book is stirring.
I have to admit-- like the turning of the earth in the text, the plot is painfully slow. Perhaps the incremental flow of the book was by design, but if I had one request, it would have been more action. Some more people crushed, gory deaths, and fear mongering. I’m depressed to think the end of the world might just be like any other day, just worse. This text adds the feminine, but seeming at the expense of the guts of the genre. 

The genre seems to be asking the same question as our society: can men and women coexist equally? One show seems to be dealing with the issue head on, and the resulting drama is highly satisfying. 

The Walking Dead, A&E’s series about a zombie infested America, is struggling with this issue almost as fiercely as the humans battle the zombies. In this zombie infested world, there is emotional as well as physical drama. What’s more important, the show asks repeatedly: man’s survival or in a softer sense, our humanity? In one poignant scene, two female characters, Lori and Andrea fight in their farm house hideout. You leave more work for the other women: doing laundry, and cooking while you are out shooting zombies with the boys. Traditional women's work is important too, Lori reminds Andrea. Andrea is offended. Why clean up when zombies are on the loose? Then again, isn't clean laundry and a farm house one of the few things separating these characters from the chaos of the outside world? None of the females in the show are simple or perfect. In this world, nothing makes sense. No answers come easy. No one's role is set in stone. But at least, they are having the conversation.  

When Lori becomes pregnant,  she focuses on her family. Rick rejects this emotional bond, focusing on survival. When Lori dies, though, Rick begins to lose his soul and his mind.  He battles hallucination in the dungeons of his prison hide out, and is brought out by the voice of his dead wife. As Rick emerges and joins his group of survivors, he holds his baby for the first time. Now, he is the only parent his baby will have, both role of nurturer and care taker fall to him. With the loss of his wife, he seems to now value her role more.  Without relationships, without love, he begins to realize, what is the point of staying alive? It seems we all need a little action and a little heart to survive the apocalypse.

I can’t wait to see how this show continues to weave in the emotional and the action. I, personally, think a great apocalypse thriller, like real life, needs grit and heart. Without men and women of action, we’d all die. Without a touch of the softer side, aren’t we all just zombies anyway?

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Holograms of Hope

A comparative review of Dave Eggers, A Hologram for the King and popular TV show Raising Hope.


I  read Dave Eggers novel, A Hologram for the King, as a cautionary tale: one I needed to hear. While well written, the novel is one I recommend reading quickly. I did not want to linger with the protagonist, Allen Clay; Rather, I hoped to  get in, survey the nasty business, and get out.  Clay is a washed up business man, whose personal and career disappointments have left him impotent by choice. He can’t connect and he can’t succeed.  He waits for a big break, but circumstances and self-doubt sabotage himself at every turn. He is my ghost of the future, and I turned pages wondering how I could close the book and make my future more meaningful?

Eggers text did not leave much room for hope.  Allen is pathetic because his path to failure was so hopeful--so like my own. He is all of us who are trying to make something of ourselves. Allen was trained to expect disappointment because his wide-eyed eagerness and gumption are smothered by the realities of a down-turned economy and a dog-eat-dog business world, in which hard work is a small percentage of the equation that yields success. Sound familiar?
As I edge towards thirty, I can relate to Allen’s predicament. I chose to be a teacher, hoping to avoid the vapid allure of success and money for real fulfillment changing lives. Turns out that isn’t so much a reality either. Don’t get me wrong, I like being a teacher, but I come home feeling like a failure more often than a success. I get the feeling the kids who succeed would do fine without me, and the ones at risk often need more than I can give.
  
Fortunately, as I shoveled M&M’s into my mouth, depressed by this literary fiction, and determined to stare at the TV and forget all this meaning of life stuff, my husband and I landed on Raising Hope. We watched episode after episode on Netflix, laughing out loud. The show seems at first a silly guilty-pleasure, probably offensive to Americans struggling financially, and full of cheap jokes. The characters are inarticulate, and are the trashiest of families. However, as I watched, I see myself in the family. It is an exaggeration of American life.  As I watch the grandparents in the show, young and already trapped in tough careers and their son, still in his twenties and tethered by a baby from a one-night stand, I can kind of relateWho among us doesn’t sound stupid half the time we open our mouths, or at least worry our ignorance is showing through. Who among us has a life exactly like we imagined it? While the family’s life is by all accounts disappointing, the family deals with what life throws at them with imagination and team work. Through the family's exaggerated failure, the show reminds us that joy doesn’t come from success in careers and the perfect family. It comes from taking yourself lightly enough to make a hotdog into an octopus to make your husband smile. If I am waiting to be perfect, the show reminds me, I will always be disappointed.

 Raising Hope reminds me to humble myself. Allen Clay’s tragedy isn’t his failure. It is his lack of humility. He can’t handle being a regular guy and so he can’t connect to anyone else around him. His tragedy is entitlement. I shouldn’t expect to change every life. I should expect to hug children when they need it most, to teach them something new every day, to introduce a reluctant reader to a great book. As my husband snuggles closer to me, and kisses me on the head as we wait for the next episode of our Netflix marathon to load, I realize it isn’t that I need a new path. It’s that I need new eyes: ones that see all I have to be thankful for instead of just my own failures.