Turning on the Girls - Cheryl Benard

A wickedly amusing novel with a feminist dystopian premise 

I will make a confession: I didn't really want to read this dystopian battle of the sexes satire where women rule the world sometime in the future after a great revolution. A future where patriarchy and testosterone male hood has been banished, stiletto heels, romantic novels and rape fantasies banned and vegetarianism is mandatory. 

Behind its innocent looking, flowery cover, the pitch sounded so blatantly feminist, it screamed “feminazi". A bit though provoking indeed but too "pro-women, anti-men" for my tastes. Yet, the preview still piqued my interest, and I thought I'd just buy it and read a bit to confirm my curiosities. Secondhand books can surprise you a lot. 

I barely got through the very first page, it was as if Cheryl Benard knew what was going through my head because it was as if she had started to talk to me. No, I'm not exaggerating or crazy, the author literally breaks into the story to do a little explaining for us. About four pages later, I actually liked her unconventional prose and silly sense of wicked humor and continued to read. Much to my delight, I must add. 

You can read the preview or an excerpt online to find out about the outlandish Orwellian plot with a feminist spin so I won't repeat it all here. I just have to say that it’s been a while since I read a radically inventive novel quite like this in the recent years. Weird sci-fi movies yes but a totalitarian gender-centric novel laced with erotica and dark humour? no. 

It wasn't just the plot that had a remarkable twist, it was also the way the story was told. It’s almost as if Cheryl Benard forgot to read the rules of storytelling and skipped her writing classes in college watching Terry Gilliam's terrific 1985 gem "Brazil" for inspiration instead. And much to the reader's joy, it works most of the time. The way she pokes fun at the differences between men and women without taking sides or condemnation is a comic relief throughout. 

As long as you don’t take this very seriously and ignore the many silly clichés and unnecessary gender arguments, the subtle humor placed throughout (like Justin sipping on a "Bloody Henry") is crafty and witty, alone makes a fun breezy read. If you thought women would make the world the better place, this bizarre novel turns this idea inside out, over its head, and still surprisingly succeeds.

Paris to the Moon - Adam Gopnik

Reading Adam Gopnik's Enjoyable Love and Hate Parisian Memoirs 

I've been reading, really I have! However, much of 2012 so far found me starting new books, putting them down, starting other books. I just couldn't commit! I needed real hard literary counseling! But July is here, and I feel I am on the road to recovery. Here's one of the 3 books I started and finished recently, much to my delight considering all the three are NOT my usual type! 

The book in question here is American writer Adam Gopnik’s Paris to the Moon. If we are to believe everything he says, Adam seems to have suffered the great calamity of living in Paris for five long years while writing "The Paris Journals" for the New Yorker magazine. My heart goes out to him, the poor man. 

Paris to the Moon is a compilation of wry essays that describe his misfortunes, along with previously unpublished journal entries which are equally sarcastic in style and tone. Gopnik seems to love Paris but he discusses and dissects French life and culture like no other - with plenty of self-deprecating wit, and he is perhaps at his best when describing the many differences between his Parisian existence and the good life he left behind in New York City. 

Everyday life in the French capital seems to have been troublesome. Gopnik faces minor inconveniences, like trying to purchase a Thanksgiving turkey during a general strike and figuring out the inexplicable construction of French Christmas tree lights, as well as more knotty troubles, like how to get a taxi when his wife is in labor (French taxi drivers it seems are reluctant to offer rides to very pregnant women but I disagree). Along with his wife, Gopnik's young son Luke came along for the adventure, and his impressions and preferences, including a taste for imported Barney tapes and his special soft spot for a female Parisian classmate, add an engaging allure to this thoroughly pleasant book. Though dated by over 12 years, read this bestseller if you want to see a distinctly different perspective of Paris that you may perhaps never read in any travel book.

The Bell Jar - Victoria Lucas (Sylvia Plath)

An Intimate Peep into a Deeply Troubled but Intelligent Mind

The Bell Jar, popular American poet and novelist Sylvia Plath’s semi-autobiographical novel which she wrote under the pen name “Victoria Lucas” is an astonishingly dramatic account of her life through the mendacity of the fashion industry, the hollowness of living in a little insipid town, the bewilderment and paranoia of a young girl attempting suicide and finally a perennial struggle to fight her depression and reform her madness. Plath decided that her "warped view of the world around... seems the one right way of looking at things."

Surprisingly, Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963) had the fortunate ability to do almost anything she wanted with her life. She achieved excellence in her schoolwork, earned many awards and numerous scholarships for her writing and was publishing poems at the young age of just eight.

During her sophomore year at Smith College, Plath won a short story contest for Mademoiselle Magazine. And in August of 1951, she spent a month in New York guest editing the famous magazine. There she was enveloped in a fashionably ideal lifestyle and was consumed with the fashion industry and its trendy folks. Upon return to a small lifeless suburb of Boston, she became more and more withdrawn and her views became more and more warped. Even though she got married to fellow poet Ted Hughes, her personal life continued to disintegrate and Plath began to become trapped, in what many say was her own personal bell jar.

Maybe, Plath just didn’t know quite what to do with herself. She saw her life as a tree full of ripe fruit, each fruit representing an intense and rewarding future. In her own words, she saw herself "sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs to choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet." This dismay and consternation eventually caused her complete descent into insanity, a few suicide attempts, shock therapy and even stays at mental hospitals. When this reached a peak, Plath committed suicide which her friend and critic Al Alvarez claimed was an unanswered cry for help.

A sad feeling thats evident in her novel. Plath writes in almost child-like language, with colorful imagery and deeply thought-provoking symbolism. The Bell Jar is vivid poetry more than prose - from the colors in her neighbor’s hand-woven rug that are trampled to gray by her husband and children to the spiteful fury of bedridden hospital patients whose flower arrangements Plath combines to fit her own tastes, it’s an intimate peep into a deeply troubled but intelligent mind. Midway through, Plath's childish, obsessed thoughts, strange words and bizarre actions are easily understood and the disturbed mind of one of "society’s outcasts" becomes all too familiar...perhaps, one realizes why psychologists did coin the word “ Sylvia Plath” effect.