Bitter Chocolate

I just finished reading The Girl With No Shadow by Joanne Harris.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, this was a sequel to Chocolat. The book was good, as Harris' books always are, but I was a little disconcerted by the different flavor of this. One review said that it was a much darker chocolate, but I also found it to be somewhat bitter.

In other novels by Harris, such as Chocolat, Blackberry Wine, and Coastliners, for example, the magic that exists in the text is subtle. The seduction of the chocolate, the vivacity of the wine, and the power of the tides and shifting sands, are all built to create a motif throughout each novel. In this way, she weaves magic into her novels without making the suspension of disbelief very necessary.

In The Girl With No Shadow the magic is more blatant, clearly practiced by witches, and taking a somewhat odd turn more suited to a fantasy novel than Harris' usual type. As I said, it is still a good novel, but I miss the subtlety of the others I listed above, and the power present in, say, Five Quarters of the Orange.

As always, though, the novel was worth the read, and Harris' prose sometimes makes me wonder why I bother to write at all, because I could never produce something so artfully crafted. But, then again, it just gives me something to aspire to.

The Critics

I've been reading quite a bit of criticism regarding Aemilia Lanyer lately, as I'm writing a paper for my 17th Century Pious British Literature class concerning her. She also happens to be the main focus of my thesis, though the scope has broadened considerably now to include medieval devotional literature and drama, as well as the medieval mystics (particularly the women).

I find it amusing to trace the development of the criticism, and a little bemusing at times as well.

Lanyer was brought to attention first when A.L. Rowse (and others, he is just the main name here) drew a connection between Lanyer and the Dark Lady of Shakespeare's sonnets. For several years, she was studied not on the merits of her product, Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum but because of her connection to Shakespeare.

Then the focus switched to the remarkably feminist bent in the literature, and critics such as Barbara K. Lewalski determined that Lanyer was creating a community of good women, and placing women above men on the spiritual and moral level. They also focused extensively on the fact that Lanyer is the first woman to publish her own work, and, seemingly, the first woman to seek patronage of other women. Lanyer has even been criticized for seeking patronage and some critics would dismiss her work as mercenary because of this. That, of course, has been put aside because artists, male and female alike, relied on patrons for support at this time in history. To regard Lanyer as mercenary would also place all the male authors of the age in the same category.

What I find most interesting is that many critics, among them Lewalski, dismiss Lanyer's religious subject as a facade, considering it to be undermined by the feminist tack that was taken. Devotional literature was considered acceptable for women, and the assumption is that Lanyer wrote it simply because she could.

It is possible that Lanyer was simply meeting with convention, and did not feel any of the devotion or religiosity that she expressed. Yet, it does not necessarily follow that a feminist and a religious topic cannot go hand in hand. Feminism doesn't necessitate the obliteration of faith, nor does faith deny the existence of feminism.

I have taken a different tack in my research, of course, but more on that as I work on my paper, and develop my thesis.

Ira Glass on Storytelling

My friend told me about this today at coffee, and I had to share.

I particularly enjoyed the third segment.