New Books in Gender Studies

In her fourth book, Lynne Huffer argues for a restored queer feminism to find new ways of thinking about sex and about ethics. Are the Lips a Grave? A Queer Feminist on the Ethics of Sex (Columbia University Press, 2013) brings forth a breadth of sources — known and less well-known, French and American, primary and secondary — ranging from Colette, Violette Leduc, and Marcel Proust to the book of Genesis, from Supreme Court cases to Virginie Despentes' rape-revenge film Baise-moi, from Irigaray to Foucault, through which Huffer reads and writes toward a queer feminist future. Beautifully written and stimulating for the theorist and non-theorist alike, Huffer's new book combines the personal and the scholarly in experimental ways, such as her analysis of the Hagar, Sarah, and Abraham story. Carefully navigating the couloirs of queer and feminist theory, this is a book about sexuality, ethics, alterity, betrayal, and love.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Islamic Studies] How do people make sense of their scriptures when they do not align with the way they envision these texts? This problem is faced by many contemporary believers and is especially challenging in relation to passages that go against one’s vision of a gender egalitarian cosmology. Ayesha Chaudhry, professor in the Department of Classical, Near Eastern and Religious Studies and the Institute for Gender, Race, Sexuality and Social Justice at the University of British Columbia, examines one such passage from the Qur’an, verse 4:34, which has traditionally been interpreted to give husbands disciplinary rights over their wives, including hitting them. In Domestic Violence and the Islamic Tradition: Ethics, Law, and the Muslim Discourse on Gender (Oxford University Press, 2013) Chaudhry offers a historical genealogy of pre-colonial and post-colonial interpretations of this verse and their implications. Through her presentation she offers portraits of the “Islamic Tradition” and how these visions of authority shape participants’ readings of scripture. In our conversation we discuss the ethics of discipline, idealized cosmologies, marital relationships, legal interpretations, Muhammad’s embodied model, Muslim feminist discourses, effects of colonialism, and the hermeneutical space between modernity and tradition.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Political Science] Karma Chavez is the author of Queer Migration Politics: Activist Rhetoric and Coalitional Possibilities (Illinois University Press, 2013). Dr. Chavez is assistant professor of Communication Arts and Chicano and Latina Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is also the co-founder of the Queer Migration Research Network and co-editor of Standing in the Intersection: Feminist Voices Feminist Practices in Communications Studies. Queer Migration Politics focuses on the intersection of political interest between immigration activists and LGBT activists. Chavez shows some of the inclusionary approaches taken by mainstream groups to advocate for a small handful of common policy objectives. The campaign to change US law to permit gay and lesbian citizens to sponsor foreign partners was prominent on the agenda. But Chavez’s approach challenges conventional politics by offering a “differential vision” of what coalitional politics might mean. The book has a lot for political scientists and sociologists, as well as scholars in queer studies and immigration policy.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Science, Technology, and Society] Sarah Franklin’s new book is an exceptionally rich, focused yet wide-ranging, insightful account of in vitro fertilization (IVF) and the worlds that it creates and inhabits. Biological Relatives: IVF, Stem Cells, and the Future of Kinship (Duke University Press, 2013) treats IVF as a looking-glass in which can see not only ourselves, but also transformations in modern notions of biology, technology, and kinship. In addition to a fascinating ethnography of the various kinds of work (by artists, by scientists, by patients and doctors) at IVF and stem cell research facilities, readers will find insightful explorations of the work of Marx and Engels, Haraway, Plato, Strathern, Derrida, Firestone, along with a wide range of authors of feminist texts from the 1980s and after. It is a book full of hands, socks, pipettes, eggs, screens, organisms, and arguments, it is fascinating, and it was a great pleasure to talk with Sarah about it.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Biography] In America, biographies of Presidents and First Ladies are a staple of the genre, but the relationship that exists between the two receives surprisingly less exploration, as though the biographies needed to be kept as separate as the offices in the East and West Wings. (The relationship of the Clintons being the notable exception.) Hopefully Will Swift's Pat and Dick: The Nixons, an Intimate Portrait of a Marriage (Threshold Editions, 2014)) augurs a new biographical trend towards serious examination of presidential relationships. It's a daunting task- to not only humanize but probe the relationship that existed between a pair still, fifty years on, more easily reduced to the stereotypes of 'Tricky Dick' and 'Plastic Pat'- but Swift gives a welcome corrective, portraying a surprisingly vulnerable Nixon whilst, perhaps even more importantly, providing a historically significant re-evaluation of his wife. For, of all the recent First Ladies, it's Pat Nixon's accomplishments that have been most overlooked, obscured as they were by a frosty public image and the downfall of her husband. In the public imagination, First Ladies are easily associated with social issues (Lady Bird Johnson and the environment, Michelle Obama and healthy eating, etc.), and yet Pat Nixon's issue of  'volunteerism'- both important and, perhaps, overly broad and, therefore, more difficult to quantify- seems to have fallen from historical view. As Swift demonstrates, however, her volunteerism platform was a springboard in improving American international relations. When, after the Peruvian earthquake of May 1970, Pat Nixon made a harrowing journey into the heart of Peru, to an area then called 'The Valley of Death', where she assisted and comforted survivors. 'To have President Nixon send his wife here means more to me than if he had sent the whole American Air Force,' said Peruvian President Velasco Alvarado. It's a story that reveals the impact a First Lady can have, an impact that all to often goes unacknowledged, and an impact in whose preservation biography plays a key role.

[Cross-posted from New Books in East Asian Studies]  In contemporary China, the game of Weiqi (also known as Go) represents many things at the same time: the military power of the general, the intellect and control of the Confucian gentleman, the rationality of the modern scientist. In Go Nation: Chinese Masculinities and the Game of Weiqi in China (University of California, 2013), Marc L. Moskowitz considers these aspects of Weiqi, treating the game as a lens through which to observe what it means to be a child, a university student, or a senior citizen in contemporary China, and how different modes of masculinity are constructed within those spheres. Moskowitz’s fascinating study is based on extended ethnographic research in Beijing that included studying Weiqi with children in series of school programs, playing in parks with retired construction workers, and playing alongside intensely committed university students in the Peking University Weiqi Club. Rendered in wonderfully clear and accessible prose, the account focuses on the masculinities emerging within those groups but pays ample attention to women Weiqi players at all levels who also work within these social structures. Go Nation pays close attention to aspects of Weiqi culture that reflect broader nationalistic, ethical, historical, and social discourses within contemporary China, and it is both a pleasurable and enlightening read. You can find out more about Moskowitz’s film Weiqi Wonders here.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Biography] It's almost a cliché by now to say that we need stories of strong women, but that doesn't lessen the fact that we do. And biography is a field uniquely poised to transmit such stories- of compelling, complex and, at times, contradictory female characters- to a broad audience. Case in point: Clare Mulley's The Spy Who Loved: The Secrets and Lives of Christine Granville (St. Martin's, 2013). Yes, she loved and had a number of love affairs but, as Mulley makes clear, the significance of Granville's life isn't that she was, to all appearances, pathologically alluring to men. Rather, her life is riveting- it has meaning in the present day- because she seems not to have craved men nearly so much as she craved adventure, challenging work that put her at great risk. This was not simply adventure for adventure's sake either, but adventure in service to a greater good, especially that of her homeland of Poland. For all her efforts as a secret service agent during World War II were in aid of her country, which is, in part, why the British government seemed never quite to know what to do with her and why this brilliant, imaginative woman was left to constantly lobby for a greater, more challenging, role. 'Intrepid' is perhaps the best word to describe Granville as Mulley portrays her here. She kicked off her career as a spy by infiltrating Poland from Hungary on skis. Another time, arrested by the Gestapo, she talked her way out of imprisonment. Still later, when her comrades were arrested by the Gestapo, she swooped into the local office, demanding and securing their release. For her bravery, she was awarded the George Medal, the OBE, and the Croix de Guerre but there was, sadly, little room in the world after the World Wars for a Polish, female spy, and Granville slid into reduced circumstances that culminated in a tragic end: murdered by an obsessive admirer at a hotel in South Kensington. It's a good story of a charismatic and difficult woman, a story that was nearly forgotten and one which Mulley is pulling from obscurity, rightfully so.

[Cross-posted from New Books in African American Studies] Cindy Hooper is a veteran of various local, state, and national political campaigns. She is the founder of a national organization for African American women that is headquartered in Washington, D.C. Hooper is also a member of the American Political Science Association. Her new book, Conflict: African American Women and the New Dilemma of Race and Gender Politics (Praeger Press, 2012), draws on all of her experiences. Please listen to our lively exchange.

Queens and royal mistresses of the Renaissance were the Hollywood celebrities of their time, which explains their enduring magnetism for writers, artists, and the public. Historians and scholars, however, have long ignored them. Enlightenment philosophers used descriptions of powerful women in the French court to mock the monarchy. Nineteenth-century historians propagated myths about these historical women to discredit the monarchy and to justify the exclusion of women from the French republic. Feminist scholars have eschewed royal women as subjects because their influence stemmed from their sexual and romantic association with kings and not because of their own merit. And contemporary historiography in France has long turned away from political elites to focus on social and cultural sites of inquiry. Kathleen Wellman, in Queens and Mistresses of Renaissance France (Yale University Press, 2013, Yale), argues that women of the French court deserve our undivided attention because they greatly influenced the French Renaissance. Between the mid-15th century to the end of the 16th century, women such as Agnès Sorel, Anne of Brittany, Diane de Poitiers, Catherine de Medici, and Marguerite de Valois, acted with agency, carved out spheres of influence, overcame constraints, and made use of their positions for personal and political ends, and in the process influenced the course of French history. Wellman's engrossing account of royal women compels us to revise our understanding of the French Renaissance.

[Cross-posted from New Books in History] If you’re younger than 45 or so, you probably don’t remember the “Battle of the Sexes.”  This tennis match, between Bobby Riggs and Billie Jean King, is one of the iconic moments in American history of the 1970s. It represented a breakthrough moment for women in sports, a symbol of the progress women were making to finally receive something like equality of opportunity and resources in athletics. For Billie Jean King, however, the match was only a small part of a life lived in the pursuit of the opportunity for access and success for herself and for women in general.  As Susan Ware outlines in her outstanding new book Game, Set, Match:  Billie Jean King and the Revolution in Women’s Sports (University of North Carolina Press, 2011), King saw herself not simply as an athlete, but as an advocate for women in athletics.   Throughout her career, King lent her voice and her reputation to those pushing institutions and leaders to let women play.  The result was, as Ware puts it, revolutionary. Ware’s book is biography at its best.  It examines King’s life on its own terms.  But it doesn’t stop there.  Instead, it uses King’s life as a lens through which to view the broader social and cultural conflicts that swept through American society in the 1970s and after.  Anyone reading the book will have a much greater sense of why the world we live in today is so dramatically different than the one in which our parents or grandparents grew up.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Biography]  There is no one way to write a biography, nor should there be. It's a statement that seems obvious enough and yet one which is still, to some degree, casually combative. For biography has long been a genre wherein story-telling is disproportionately devoted to cradle-to-grave narratives about the lives of white men. It's also a field wherein there persists a notion that there are things one, as a biographer, is and is not at liberty to do. This is changing, yes, but slowly, so that when books come along that bring forth stories that aren't told in the standard, stale way, they often come under critical fire. As such, Neil McKenna's Fanny and Stella: The Young Men Who Shocked Victorian England (Faber & Faber, 2013) stands at the frontline, a staunch example of the histories that need to be told and what biography can be. Through meticulous research and lush, incisive prose, McKenna presents a gripping and startling account of the arrest and prosecution of two Victorian drag queens. It's a deft performance that strikes a tricky balance, playfully re-creating the underworld of 19th century London and the colorful personalities who inhabited it, whilst simultaneously conveying the importance of what is at stake for the people involved and society at-large. Make no mistake, this is a serious book, but one which is nonetheless shot through with the joie de vivre and chutzpah characteristic of the charming Miss Fanny Park and Miss Stella Boulton themselves. For readers who believe biography can only be written in one particular way, Fanny & Stella may induce an apoplectic fit. But, for those eager for innovation and displays of daring within the field, Fanny & Stella promises an exciting encounter with something alarming and bold and bright and new.

[Cross-posted from New Books in French Studies] Sandrine Sanos’s new book, The Aesthetics of Hate: Far-Right Intellectuals, Antisemitism and Gender in 1930s France  (Stanford University Press, 2013), examines the central roles that gender, sexuality, and race played in the far-right ideologies of the 1930s. Re-reading the work and ideas of a group of male intellectuals known as the Jeune Droite or “Young New Right”, Sanos argues that aesthetics and politics were deeply intertwined in these authors’ representations of a crisis of French civilization and in the antisemitic, racist, and misogynist responses they articulated.  Figures like Maurice Blanchot and Louis-Ferdinand Céline were some of the most famous members of an intellectual movement that elaborated an “aesthetics of hate” in which Jews, women, and homosexuals figured as emblems of decadence and decline. The book also traces in fascinating ways some of the crucial links between French anti-Semitism and imperialism, examining connections between metropolitan and colonial racisms. While Sanos is careful to point out that hers is not a history of fascism per se, The Aesthetics of Hate makes a significant contribution to our understanding of the far-right in France and beyond. The book illuminates the intersections between gender, sexuality, and race in modern France, as well as the fundamental interdependence of French culture and politics through the twentieth century. An archaeology of some of the more repugnant political ideas of the 1930s, the book also has broader implications for our understanding of contemporary French expressions of cultural anxiety, racism, and hateful politics.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Genocide Studies] In our fast-paced world, it is easy to move from one crisis to another.  Conflicts loom in rapid succession, problems demand solutions (or at least analysis) and impending disasters require a response. It is all we can do to pay attention to the present moment.  Lingering on the consequences of the past seems to take too much of our finite attention. Jennie Burnet's fantastic new book Genocide Lives in Us:  Women, Memory and Silence in Rwanda (University of Wisconsin Press, 2012), offers a useful corrective to this fascination with the immediate.  Jennie is interested primarily in what it means to live in a society ruptured by violence.  She writes about how people try to speak, or not speak, about the killing that destroyed their families or those of their neighbors.  She reflects on how the government's decision to try to forestall future violence by eliminating ethnic categories affects individuals' efforts to shape their own identity and self-understanding.  She analyzes the way practices of memorialization reflect changing ways of understanding and narrating past atrocities.  And she allows her subjects to share the challenges of living in a world where the past is always present. Jennie, both in print and in the interview, is thoughtful, articulate and compassionate.  I hope the interview gives you a taste of the richness of her book.

How to research the history of sexual harassment in the office, when the term sexual harassment was only invented in 1975 and it was long tabou to even use the word sex in conversation? Using an array of rich sources — from Treasury Department archives to trial records, congressional investigation files to films and novels, popular weeklies and dailies to postcards, advertisements to confession magazines, private papers to employment advice guides — Julie Berebitsky takes the reader on a discovery of sexuality in the white collar-office from the Civil War to the present day. Sex and the Office: A History of Gender, Power and Desire (Yale University Press, 2012) analyzes sexual relations, non-consensual and consensual, among co-workers, arguing that the 19th-century ideal of the passionless woman gave way by World War One to an ideal of feminine attractiveness, one that was later transformed by Helen Gurley Brown in the 1960s into a professional strategy for its time. At the same time, feminist groups and the secretarial labor movement coalesced to fight back against decades of discrimination and sexual violence in the office against women workers. Berebitsky concludes her book with an analysis of the Anita Hill-Clarence Thomas case, which brought the issue of sexual harassment into the living rooms of Americans. This case, and the Monica Lewinsky-Bill Clinton affair, demonstrate that there is both continuity and change in American attitudes towards sex at the office.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Big Ideas] A couple of years ago I was living in a hip district of a university town in the Midwest. It had all the hip stuff you'd expect: a record store (and I mean record store), a big used bookstore, a greasy spoon, two dive bars, a coffee shop, and two restaurants where you could buy 40 dollar meals (hipsters splurge too!). Then, suddenly, a knitting store appeared. It looked out of place. Knitting? So I went in to take a look. Much to my surprise, it was full of hipsters, or rather hipster women. The place was very casual. It had a coffee bar, homemade cookies, and couches. You could just wander in, get a cuppa, and, well, knit. According to Emily Matchar, what I'd seen was a reflection of a return to domesticity. In Homeward Bound: Why Women Are Embracing the New Domesticity (Simon & Schuster, 2013), Matchar gives us the why and how of urban gardening, urban chickens, urban canning, and–that's right–urban knitting and sewing. According to Matchar, youngish women are rejecting high-flying careers to go "back to the land," so long as that land is in a city. A movement or a fad? Listen to the interview and judge for yourself. All I know is that now that I've read Matchar's book, I have new respect for my mom. She was way ahead of the curve on this one. The woman made all her own clothes. And not only that, she had a career, though not a very high-flying one. She "had it all" before "having it all" was deemed impossible.